Fatimah story side
(On Saturday)
I dressed up slowly, checking myself in the mirror more than once. My heart beat faster than usual, not out of fear, but excitement. Today, I was going to my boyfriend’s house.
Fatimah: Mom, I’m going out. I’ll be back in about two or three hours.
Mom: To where?
Fatimah: My friend’s house… you know, the one I told you about. She’s doing her freedom today and she invited us.
Mom: Which friend?
Fatimah: The one that came here last month.
Mom: How am I supposed to remember someone I saw only once? I just hope you’re not lying to me.
Fatimah: Why would I lie to you, Mom?
Mom: If you are lying, I’ll catch you one day. And if it’s your boyfriend’s house and he deceives you, that’s the end of your education and your happiness. If you bring pregnancy into this house, you better tell that child to bring food from heaven, because all he will drink is useless garri.
Fatimah: (hurt) Mommy… just because I said I’m going to my friend’s house, you’re saying all these things? If you don’t want me to go, just tell me instead of insulting me.
Mom: I’ve said my own. Fatimah! Irinkurin re tipoju. Remember whose daughter you are. Don’t let any boy deceive you.
Fatimah: I’ve heard you… motigbo. Can I go now?
Mom: Go. Am I holding you?
Fatimah: Okay, bye Mom. (She slips on her shoes.)
Mom: Odabo o… hmm. I’ve said my own.
When I got to his house, the compound was quiet… too quiet.
Fatimah: (knocks softly) Knock… knock…
Abdulateef: Yes, I’m coming!
(The door opens.)
Abdulateef: Ahh, my baby! How are you? (He pulls her into a tight embrace.) I’ve missed you so much. Come in.
Fatimah: (smiles faintly) I’m fine… thank you. Why is everywhere so quiet? Where is your mom and your siblings?
Abdulateef: They all went for a wedding. One of our relatives is getting married today. You can relax… we have the whole house to ourselves.
Fatimah: (hesitates slightly) Oh… okay. But why didn’t you go?
Abdulateef: Because I was waiting for you.
Fatimah: (soft smile) That’s… sweet.
Abdulateef: Come, let’s go inside.
Fatimah: Inside where?
Abdulateef: My room.
Fatimah: Why can’t we stay here? I’m comfortable here.
Abdulateef: Come on, baby… I’m not comfortable here. Please, I have something to show you. I want us to enjoy ourselves. Please.
Fatimah: (uneasy) I don’t really think that’s a good idea…
Abdulateef: Do you want me to carry you?
Fatimah: (trying to laugh it off) If you can.
Abdulateef: Come here.
(He lifts her suddenly. She laughs at first, but her laughter fades as he carries her into the room. The soft click of the door locking echoes louder than it should.)
Fatimah: (frowning) Why did you lock the door? I don’t like that.
Abdulateef: Relax, baby. You worry too much. Here… I got you something. Your favorite drink.
Fatimah: (her mood softens) You always make me feel like a princess. Thank you so much. What about the phone you promised me? (She takes a sip.)
Abdulateef: (hands it to her) Here.
Fatimah: (eyes widen) Wow… a brand new phone? Ahh… finally I’m free from using a button phone. Thank you, thank you so much. I love you. (She hugs him tightly.)
Abdulateef: I love you too. Finish your drink.
Fatimah: (laughing lightly) Okay, okay. (She drinks faster, excited.)
(He watches her closely, his eyes fixed on her every move. A slow smile creeps onto his face.)
Fatimah: Ahh… it’s so sweet. Thank you, my love. You’re the best.
Abdulateef: You’re welcome.
Fatimah: So, how is work? Hope they’re not stressing you too much?
Abdulateef: No… everything is fine. (He moves closer, his gaze intense.)
Fatimah: (uncomfortable) Why are you looking at me like that? Is there something on my face?
Abdulateef: No… I’m just admiring you. Do you know what I feel like doing right now? I feel like kissing you.
Fatimah: (her voice slows, her eyes blinking heavily) Baby… I don’t feel… okay. I feel… dizzy.
Abdulateef: (softly) You’re probably tired. Just lie down for a bit.
Fatimah: I’m fine, I just… I just…
(Her words fade. Her body gives in. She collapses onto the bed.)
Abdulateef: (whispers, almost breathless) It worked… the medicine worked.
(The room feels heavier. Silent. Wrong.)
Time passes.
Fatimah’s eyes flutter open slowly. Her head aches. Her body feels strange… weak… exposed. Then it hits her.
Fatimah: (voice breaking) Why…?
Abdulateef: (panicking, stepping back) I’m sorry… please, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know… I didn’t know you were a virgin. I swear I didn’t mean to… please forgive me.
(His words sound distant, meaningless.)
Fatimah sits up slowly, her hands trembling. Tears roll down her face, but she says nothing. She walks into the bathroom, closes the door, and lets the water run.
She stands under it, unmoving… as if trying to wash something deeper than her skin.
When she comes out, her face is empty. No expression. No warmth.
(She picks up the phone he gave her and throws it at him.)
Fatimah: Keep it.
(She walks out without looking back.)
Abdulateef: (voice shaking) What have I done…?
When I reached home, my steps were slow… uneven.
Fatimah: Ekule ma…
Mom: Kule. Why are you walking like that?
Fatimah: I fell… I injured my ankle.
Mom: Where were your eyes? Can’t you see the road? Come, let me see it.
Fatimah: (avoiding her gaze) Please… just leave me alone. I’m fine.
(She walks past her quickly.)
Mom: Fatimah! Did you just walk away from me?
(She follows her into the room and finds her lying on the bed, quietly crying.)
Mom: What happened?
Fatimah: Nothing.
Mom: Face me when I’m talking to you.
Fatimah: (voice low) Nothing… I just want to be alone.
Mom: That’s your problem. Get up and go and cook. Don’t waste my time.
Fatimah: Okay.
(She stands slowly, every step heavy, and walks out.)
Mom: And make it sweet.
Four hours later, around 7:39pm, the house felt normal again. Laughter from the TV. The sound of plates. Life moving on like nothing had happened.
But Fatimah stayed in her room.
Dad: Iya Fati.
Mom: Yes?
Dad: Where is Fatimah?
Mom: She’s in her room.
Dad: Doing what?
Mom: I don’t know.
Dad: Call her.
Mom: Okay.
(She enters the room.)
Mom: Fatimah, your dad is calling you. I don’t even know what’s wrong with you today.
(Fatimah drags herself up and walks to the living room.)
Fatimah: Sir… you called me?
Dad: Yes. Have you eaten?
Fatimah: No.
Dad: Why?
Fatimah: Nothing.
Dad: Just like that? Or is it because you see your mates going to school and we haven’t sent you?
(She stays silent.)
Mom: So that’s why you’ve been moody since morning.
Dad: Don’t worry. Once I get the money I’m expecting, I’ll pay for your NECO and JAMB. You’ve been working hard with your tailoring… you even sew for your mother now. I’m proud of you. I’ll sponsor you.
(Fatimah forces a small nod.)
Dad: Are you happy now? Go and eat.
Fatimah: I’m not hungry, sir.
Dad: Why?
Fatimah: I… I just lost my appetite.
Dad: And your leg?
Fatimah: I hit my ankle.
Dad: Okay. Sorry, my dear. Go and rest.
Fatimah: Okay, sir.
(She walks back to her room, closes the door gently… then locks it.)
The moment the lock clicks, her strength breaks.
Fatimah: (whispers, collapsing to the floor) Ya Allah…
(Her tears come uncontrollably now, raw and painful. She clutches herself tightly, as if trying to hold together the pieces of what she just lost.)
The room is quiet… but inside her, everything is screaming.
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