Sefinat: (weeping quietly) But I don’t think I can bear this one, Habeebah. This pain... it's too much.
Habeebah: But Allah only tests those He loves. Look at the time of the Prophet (sallallahu alayhi wasallam)—he lost his father before he was even born. He never got to see him. He lost his mother at a young age and was raised by his uncle. He lost his beloved wife. Many of his children died while he was still alive. And he was the most beloved to Allah. Of course, Allah tests those He loves.
Habeebah: (smiles through her sadness) At first, I wondered why we even became friends... but now it makes sense. You’re precious to Allah, Sefinat. And He wants you to wake up—to rise from your pain and embrace your purpose. It’s time to move on. To live.
Habeebah: What if you spend your entire life chasing after that monster and never find him? I know you grew up in the orphanage… why didn’t you question Allah when He took your parents? Just like that, your brother’s death—it was all written. Even this moment—us talking like this—was written before we were born.
Habeebah: (gazes at her deeply) What is meant to be will always be. None of us can escape death. You survived those men not because they spared you—but because your time hadn’t come. Allah still has something in store for you.
Habeebah: (voice softens) I don’t even know if I’ll live to see tomorrow. I don’t know if I’ll make it home safely. Who knows? This might be our last conversation.
Sefinat: (sits up, eyes wide) Don’t say that!
Habeebah: It’s the truth, Sefinat. And as Muslims, we must live each day like it’s our last. This conversation—this moment—is a blessing. You’re finally opening your heart to accept the truth. And now it’s time… time to move on.
Habeebah: (holds her hand tightly) The best gift you can give your brother now is your du’a. Pray for him. Take your solat seriously. Death comes without warning. Islam is peace. But only those who open their hearts can taste its beauty.
Habeebah: This dunya—it’s nothing but a beautiful lie. A temporary bridge to our real home. And what we do here determines where we’ll end up—Jannah or Jahannam. Please, Sefinat. For the sake of Allah… let it go. Leave him to Allah. He will fight for you.
Sefinat: (cries bitterly) I knowwww…
Habeebah: (pulls her into a warm embrace) You can do this. I know you can. You’re strong, beautiful—and not just that—you have a kind heart. Do you know how I found out?
Habeebah: The so-called civilized people? They hate us. They call us extremists… pretenders. All that is a test. A test of our faith, our imaan. But you? You came to me. You didn’t care what others thought. You stood with me. That’s strength, Sefinat.
Habeebah: I like you so much. And I never want to see you walk the wrong path. Please… take this path of forgiveness—and see how Allah transforms your life.
Sefinat: (wiping her tears) Thank you so much, Habeebah. You’re truly an angel… No one has ever sat me down and talked sense into me like this. Growing up alone was hard. And the only friend I had—I left her because of ignorance. Thank you for being honest with me. It means the world to me.
Habeebah: All thanks belong to Allah SWT. So tell me, how do you feel now?
Sefinat: (sighs deeply, still sore) My body still aches… but I know there’s one thing I need to do before I say goodbye to this city.
Habeebah: (surprised) Really? I mean… not that I’m happy, but—uhm, I mean…
Sefinat: (chuckles weakly) It’s fine, I understand. But I hurt someone really badly.
Habeebah: (exhales softly) Khalid, isn’t it?
Sefinat: (nods sadly) Yes.
Habeebah: I was wondering why he didn’t give the phone to you personally. He must be really hurt. He didn’t look well when he visited me this morning.
Sefinat: I don’t know why, but after everything you said… I feel calm. A little at ease. I’ll try to ask for his forgiveness before I leave.
Habeebah: He’s a good man. Honestly? Sometimes I feel like… he really likes you.
Sefinat: (laughs awkwardly) Let’s not go there, please.
Sefinat: That reminds me—have you heard from your husband?
Habeebah: (eyes roll slightly) Oh! That...
Sefinat: Did he come back to attack you again?
Habeebah: No! Not at all… It was a whole plot twist. Totally unexpected. I even planned to attack him if he tried anything funny again—but suddenly, he changed. Like, he became the man I used to know—before marriage.
Sefinat: Ehhn? What did you say?
Habeebah: He filled the kitchen with foodstuff… left ₦30,000 before leaving again. He even invited my parents to help us settle our differences. He said he wants to start a family.
Sefinat: (in disbelief) Like… have a baby?
Habeebah: Exactly.
Sefinat: Are you kidding?
Habeebah: No.
Sefinat: Someone who was ready to force himself on you… now wants a baby? Hmm. I don’t believe it.
Habeebah: Same here. A part of me wants to believe him, but my gut tells me he’s pretending—just to get what he wants. But I’ll figure it out.
Sefinat: Don’t let him come near you. Maybe he’s planning to hurt you through kindness. Don’t fall for his trap.
Habeebah: I’ll be sensitive.
Sefinat: Why don’t you just come clean to your parents? Maybe they’ll surprise you.
Habeebah: With the way he sweet-talked them last time? Trust me, they’d blame me if I say anything. I was dumbfounded, Sefinat.
Sefinat: Just be careful, please. May Allah keep you safe for us. This world is too scary... loved ones turning into strangers every day.
Habeebah: Honestly.
Sefinat: So… how far with your online thing again? What’s it called? That marketing stuff?
Habeebah: Affiliate marketing. First of all, it’s not for the faint-hearted. You must hustle for your money. I’ve completed the course and now I post content to generate leads. Let me show you. (brings out her phone)
Sefinat: (eyes widen) Huh! Someone’s becoming a content creator ooo!
Habeebah: Not a content creator, please. This is faceless advertising. I make sure not to go against Islamic rules—no music, no face, and my target is Muslim women.
Sefinat: That’s cool. But your engagement is low.
Habeebah: Consistency is key. It’ll grow, so long as I don’t give up.
Sefinat: Hmm... This is tempting. Maybe I should join you?
Habeebah: Trust me, it’s not as easy as it seems. I spent sleepless nights studying those modules. But I love that you have to work for your money. I almost closed a sale yesterday but my prospect pulled out—which is normal. It's still a win for me. It means I’m getting closer.
Sefinat: (smiles warmly) You have no idea how much better I feel talking to you. You’re my soulmate.
Habeebah: (pulls away playfully) Abeg ooo! Go and find your soulmate outside.
(They both burst into laughter)
*******************************************
AT THE PRISON – Morning
Zatimah: (using a blade to shave Akeelah’s head) I don’t know why you really hate yourself this much… but all is well sha.
Akeelah: (sadly stares at the wall) Thank you, ma.
Zatimah: This long, beautiful hair… hair that every woman craves. And you? You’re shaving it off. You’re a beautiful young lady.
Akeelah: And where did that bring me? I got raped by three men. I got pregnant by force. I hated that child even before she was born. And the moment I finally felt what it means to be a mother, I became a murderer. I killed my own baby… and it all started with this beauty the society admires. Now look at me—living the best of my life.
Zatimah: Don’t say that. You are a survivor. And those men? They will be punished. I know that.
Prison Officer: (approaches their cell gate) Hey, you! Your attention is needed at the office.
(Zatimah and Akeelah glance at each other in confusion.)
Zatimah: Me or her?
Prison Officer: Her, of course! Get up! I don’t have all day. (unlocks the cell gate)
Akeelah: (gets up in confusion and follows him)
Prison Officer: (leads the way to the office, salutes the officers, and steps aside)
Akeelah: (lowers her gaze, rubbing her arms, clearly uncomfortable in a room with three men) Yes, sir.
Mr. Ramola: So, you are the young lady who murdered your rapist and was raped by three men, then sentenced to five years in prison. Am I correct?
Akeelah: (nods sadly) Yes, sir.
Mr. Ramola: (scans her from head to toe, observing how miserable she looks) The federal government has ordered the release of five prisoners as the new year approaches. And lucky for you… you’ve been selected. Congratulations. You’re going home today.
Akeelah: (shocked, raises her head slowly) S-sir?
Mr. Ramola: You’re now free to go. Officer.
Prison Officer: (salutes) Yes, sir.
Mr. Ramola: Return her belongings and set her free.
Akeelah: (still frozen in shock)
Prison Officer: Young lady, come with me.
Akeelah: (still stiff)
Prison Officer: (rolls his eyes, grabs her by the arm and leads her out of the office)
(Curtain.)
TWENTY MINUTES LATER
Zatimah: (lying down, staring at the ceiling) Hmmmmm...
Akeelah: (reaches the gate and holds it tight, staring at Zatimah with tears in her eyes) Aunt?
Zatimah: (notices her presence and hurries to the gate) What is it this time? What happened?
Akeelah: (breaks down in tears) Auntttt…
Zatimah: (grabs her hand through the bars) Talk to me! You’re scaring me! What happened?
Akeelah: I… I… (breaks down again) I’ve been set freeee…
Zatimah: (a bright smile breaks across her face) Really? Are you serious? Oh my God! I’m so happy for you. Or wait… are you pulling my legs?
Akeelah: Nooo… don’t you see I’m wearing mufti? I had to plead with them to let me see you.