Khadijah story side.
Two years later…
Life didn’t suddenly become better. I only became used to it.
The pain didn’t disappear, it just became something I carried quietly.
But in the middle of all that, I found comfort in one place, my mom2.
She became everything I needed.
She listened to me, supported me, cared for me, and loved me like I was truly hers. Because of her, the emptiness my own mother created didn’t consume me completely. At this point, my real mom… felt like a stranger living in the same house. Alive, but absent.
A living ghost in my life.
Alhamdulillah, I gained admission into Lagos State Polytechnic. I wrote my exams once and passed everything. I was so proud of myself.
I thanked Allah, my ustaz, my dad, and mom2. Everyone supported me… except my mom.
Life at home moved on.
Mom2 gave birth to a baby boy last year, Abdullah. He brought light into the house. She later returned to her job.
Amirah is now in SSS2.
Amir is in JSS3.
Khalid is in JSS1.
My mom hasn’t changed.
Not even a little.
But the difference now is… no one expects anything from her anymore.
She treats my siblings better than she treats me, and strangely, I’m okay with that. At least they are not going through what I went through.
As for me, she only talks to me when my dad forces her to.
And when she does, her words are always the same.
“Don’t let any man deceive you and bring pregnancy home. If you try it, that’s the end of your life.”
That’s all.
Nothing more.
Nothing less.
But my dad…
My dad remained my safe place.
He calls me often, sometimes with mom2 beside him. He sends my allowance regularly, checks on me, advises me.
“Focus on your studies.”
“Avoid bad company.”
“Don’t disappoint us.”
And every time, I promise.
I promise I won’t fail them.
Until one particular day…
I was returning to my hostel after a long, stressful day in class. My body was tired, my head was heavy.
Then I heard a voice behind me.
Stranger: Sister!
I ignored it at first.
Khadijah: Why is he shouting sister like that? Can’t he find who he’s looking for properly?
Stranger: Sister in blue khimar!
I paused.
I looked around.
I was the only one wearing a blue khimar.
Slowly… I turned.
Stranger: Thank you for stopping.
He finally reached me, slightly out of breath.
Stranger: As-salamu alaykum, sister.
Khadijah: Wa alaykum salam warahmatullah. How can I help you?
I was already tired and not in the mood.
Stranger: My name is Mansur. Please, can I know your name?
Khadijah: I’m sorry, I can’t tell you. And please, why did you stop me? I’m really tired.
Mansur hesitated.
Mansur: It’s nothing serious… but since you’re in a hurry, can I have your contact so we can talk later?
Khadijah: No, I’m sorry. I can’t. As-salamu alaykum.
I turned to leave.
Mansur: Please, sister! For the sake of Allah, just your contact. I have good intentions. I’m a Muslim just like you… and seeing you as a practicing Muslimah really drew me to you. Please… for the sake of Allah.
I stopped.
That phrase…
For the sake of Allah.
I took a deep breath.
Khadijah: Just because you said “for the sake of Allah”… I’ll give it to you.
Mansur’s face lit up immediately.
Mansur: Jazakillahu khairan. You are truly a good Muslimah.
He handed me his phone.
I typed my number.
Khadijah: That’s it.
Mansur: Thank you so much. You are special. I’ll call you soon. As-salamu alaykum.
Khadijah: Wa alaykum salam.
I continued walking toward my hostel.
But my mind wasn’t at peace.
Khadijah (thinking): I shouldn’t have given him my number… Dad told me not to disappoint him.
I sighed.
Khadijah (thinking): I only did it because he said “for the sake of Allah”…
Fatimah story side.
Two years later…
After everything I went through at home, at work, and even in the community… I finally became good at tailoring.
My boss was impressed and told my parents I was ready to stand on my own.
For the first time in a long while, my parents were proud.
My dad even promised to pay for my WAEC again.
But my heart…
My heart was still restless.
Different men kept approaching me, and I didn’t know what I truly wanted anymore.
Eventually… I accepted one.
His name is Abdulateef.
We’ve been together for five months now.
He just finished his service and is currently looking for a job. I support him, encourage him, and he always tells me he will marry me.
And honestly…
I’ve lost interest in school.
I now believe learning a skill is better.
So I gathered courage to tell my parents.
At least… I tried with my mom first.
In her provision shop—
Fatimah: Maami…
Mom: What is it?
Her tone alone made my chest tighten.
Fatimah: I don’t like the way you talk to me… it hurts. Even when I want to tell you something, I lose the courage immediately.
Mom laughed dryly.
Mom: So you want me to kneel down and be greeting you now?
Fatimah: No, Mom, that’s not what I mean—
Mom: If you don’t have anything sensible to say, leave my presence.
Fatimah: You see? This is what I’m talking about…
Mom: Oh, so you’re now my mate? Just because you’re 19, you want to raise your voice at me?
Fatimah: No, now…
Mom: Get out!
I stomped my foot in frustration as I walked away.
Fatimah: I’m not going to school again. I’m not going!
Mom: Come back here! What did you say?
I turned back, folding my arms.
Fatimah: I’m not going. This tailoring is enough for me.
Mom laughed again.
Mom: You are ungrateful. Your father wants to send you to school and this is how you repay him? You want to end up like us?
Fatimah: Mom, school is not everything anymore. Look at graduates without jobs. Skill is better.
Mom: If you had sense, you would think properly. When last did you even pray? You are behaving like a non-believer. You must go to school. That is final!
Fatimah: I’m not going!
Mom: Should I use this stick on you? Go and prepare food before your father comes back!
I stormed into the house and slammed the door.
Mom: Break it completely if you want!
Later, while cooking, my phone rang.
I checked the screen.
Fatimah: My baby…
At least… someone makes me happy.
I picked the call.
Fatimah: Hello, my love.
Abdulateef: Hello baby, I missed you so much.
Fatimah: Not as much as I missed you.
Abdulateef: What are you doing?
Fatimah: Cooking.
Abdulateef: Sweet. Make it as delicious as you are.
I laughed softly.
Fatimah: You’re funny. So… what’s up?
Abdulateef: I have something for you. Guess.
Fatimah: You know I’m not good at that.
Abdulateef: Okay. Choose one. You come to my house, spend three hours with me, and I’ll buy you a new phone… or I take you out on a date.
My heart skipped.
Fatimah: Are you serious?
Abdulateef: Very serious.
I hesitated.
Fatimah: I can’t be seen outside with you too often… what if my parents catch me?
He smiled through his voice.
Abdulateef: So you’ll come to my house?
I paused.
Fatimah: I think so…
Abdulateef: Good. We’ll have so much fun.
Something about the way he said it…
But I ignored it.
Fatimah: Maybe Saturday.
Abdulateef: Perfect. I can’t wait to kiss you.
Fatimah: Stop… you’re too much.
Abdulateef: I love youtimah: I love you too.
I ended the call quickly.
Then deleted his number.
Fatimah (thinking): No privacy in this house…
Mom shouted from outside.
Mom: Are you done with the food?
Fatimah: Almost done! Just for it to dry.
And deep inside me…
Something didn’t feel right.
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