The next day
(Khadijah is laid to rest. The air is heavy with grief as her parents and loved ones mourn her deeply. Hours pass before they finally gather the strength to visit the baby in the pediatric ward.)
Ummu: (moving closer to the incubator, her eyes filled with tears) Subhanallah… she’s a girl… she looks just like her mother… Barakallahu feekum… Habeeby, look at her.
Abu: (bends slightly, peering through the glass) Masha Allah… I have never seen a premature baby before… are you sure she is breathing?
Rasheedah: Of course she is breathing… I’ve been with her since last night.
Ummu: Can I carry her?
Rasheedah: The nurses said no… she needs to stay in the incubator.
Abu: How long before we can take her home?
Rasheedah: About two months, I think… but if she responds well, maybe next month.
Edrees: (joining them, staring through the glass) Is that her? Inside there?
Ummu: Yes.
Edrees: Allahu Akbar… are you sure she is breathing?
Rasheedah: (manages a faint smile) Yes, she is.
Edrees: I’m not afraid of anything in this life… but I cannot carry this baby.
Abu: (softly) Me neither.
Ummu: Why?
Abu: Maybe when she gains a little weight… not now. I’m afraid she might slip from my hands.
Edrees: Same here.
(They stand there, quietly admiring her, whispering prayers under their breath. Soon, the nurses gently ask them to step out, leaving only the baby’s guardian.)
Edrees: Alright, we’re going… no need to chase us out.
Ummu: I will stay with her… Rasheedah, you should go home and rest.
Rasheedah: No, Ummu… I will stay. You look very weak, and I’m sure you haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. Abu, please take her home.
Ummu: Then I’m not going anywhere. I will wait at the reception… in case you need anything.
Abu: Come home with me, dear. I will stay with the baby.
Ummu: You want me to leave? No… I’m not going.
Edrees: Alright, don’t worry. I will stay with her. Both of you should go home.
Ummu: That means none of us is leaving… (she sighs, defeated) My dear, if you need anything, call me immediately. I will be right there. (she walks slowly toward the reception)
Edrees: Ummu… okay, wait for me.
Abu: (shakes his head slightly) I guess none of us is going home.
Rasheedah: (turns to the baby, her voice soft, breaking) Look at you… so small… so beautiful, just like your mother… I still can’t believe she’s gone… but I promise you… I will take care of you like my own child… everything your mother couldn’t do for you, I will do it… (tears fall freely) Sister mi…
(Curtain)
At the police station
(Adekunle sits in the same corner, unmoving. His eyes are swollen, his body weak, yet he refuses to rest. His mother watches him helplessly, her voice trembling as she pleads.)
Mum: Adekunle… please… have mercy on me. You didn’t sleep all night… you’ve been crying since yesterday… I can’t bear to see you like this. What has happened has happened… we need to find a way forward… please… I don’t want to lose you too.
Adekunle: (his voice faint, hollow) A mother lost her child last night… because of me… a child lost her mother… because of me… the only punishment I deserve is death… Mum, you don’t understand how much I loved Khadijah… how do I face the world again? I should be locked away forever… or hanged… I can’t forgive myself… I can’t…
(He breaks down again.)
Mum: (pulls his head gently to her shoulder) I am sorry… for everything… I am sorry… but please, let’s leave this place first. You haven’t eaten since yesterday… please, Okomi… let’s go.
Adekunle: (barely audible) I am never leaving here… never.
(Curtain)
During the night
Abu: (gently tapping his wife) What would you like to eat? Edrees can get something for you. You are very weak, my dear.
Ummu: (weakly) I’m fine…
Edrees: Ummu, please… for the sake of Allah, eat something. Khadijah is gone… we cannot bring her back. Even if tears could… ours would have done it already. We cannot lose you too.
(Ummu breaks down again, her body shaking with silent sobs.)
Abu: Even your tears are gone… your body has nothing left. Please, eat something… for Allah’s sake. You know what… Edrees, go and get food. I will feed her myself.
Edrees: Yes, sir. (he leaves quietly)
(Rasheedah walks in, her expression heavy.)
Rasheedah: Abu… Ummu… the police said they released Adekunle last night, but he refused to leave. He asked them to lock him up again with his mother. He’s still there… he hasn’t eaten or drunk anything… they said he has been hurting himself… and his mother keeps begging him.
Abu: Subhanallah…
Ummu: Are you sure?
Rasheedah: Yes, ma.
Abu: Leave him… maybe that is how he chooses to mourn her. I know he feels guilty… (he sighs deeply) How is my grandchild?
Rasheedah: I just finished feeding her… she loves food.
Abu: Alhamdulillah… she is responding quickly.
Ummu: Please… can I see her again?
Rasheedah: Of course. Let’s go.
Abu: I will come with you.
(Curtain)
The next morning, 5:30 a.m.
At the police station
(Suddenly, a piercing scream breaks the silence.)
Mum: Somebody help me! Please! My son is not responding! Help me!
(The officers rush toward the cell. They unlock it quickly and carry Adekunle out. His body hangs weakly in their arms as they hurry toward the nearest hospital.)
(Curtain)
At the hospital
(Adekunle lies unconscious on the bed. A drip is attached to his hand, slowly restoring his strength, while his wounds are carefully treated. The room is quiet except for the faint sound of medical equipment.)
Mum: (wiping her tears) Doctor… how is my son?
Doctor: He will be fine. He just needs a lot of rest. With time, he will recover.
Mum: Thank you, doctor… can I see him now?
Doctor: Of course.
Mum: Thank you, sir. (she rushes to his bedside, breaking down) Okomi… I am sorry… I am sorry for everything… for all the pain I caused you… (she gently touches his head) I can see it now… this is all my fault… I was not a good mother… I did not lead you the right way… please forgive me… (she cries deeply, resting her head on the bed) please… forgive me…
(A tear slips from the corner of Adekunle’s eye.)
(Curtain)
Three months later
(Khadijah’s baby is finally discharged. The family brings her home with quiet joy, determined to care for her. Yet, beneath that joy lies a lingering grief that refuses to fade.)
(No one reaches out to Adekunle, and he does not reach out either. Guilt has built a wall around him. His life has not been the same since Khadijah’s death. The thought of seeing his child terrifies him, yet somewhere deep inside, he longs for that moment.)
(Rasheedah has also recently had her Nikkah. Despite her pleas, her parents refused to let her take the baby with her, insisting she must begin her own life without that burden.)
(Whenever Abu leaves for work, the baby stays with Ummu.)
Ummu: (playing gently with the baby) Aren’t you the most beautiful gift Allah has given me? Yes… you are… my precious little girl…
(The baby responds with soft movements, her tiny face lighting up. Ummu smiles, but the smile slowly fades as tears begin to gather.)
Ummu: It’s a pity… your mother is not here to hold you the way you deserve… no warmth… no milk from her… no love like only a mother can give… (her voice breaks) I am trying… wallahi, I am trying… but I know I am not enough… I am sorry…
(She breaks down, holding the baby close.)
(Curtain)
A few days later, Saturday
(Adekunle sits alone in his living room, absentmindedly pressing his phone. The house feels empty, heavy with silence. Suddenly, the gateman rushes in.)
Gateman: Sir! (panting heavily) Sir, your friend is outside… he is fighting me because I didn’t open the gate!
Adekunle: (raises his head slowly) My friend? I don’t have friends anymore… who is it?
Gateman: Mr Kelvin… he is still banging the gate and shouting.
Adekunle: (takes a deep breath) Let him in.
Gateman: But sir…
Adekunle: I said let him in.
Gateman: Okay, sir.
(As the gate opens, Kelvin storms in angrily. In his aggression, he slams the gate with his leg, injuring the gateman’s hand.)
Gateman: Aahhh! My hand!
Kelvin: (adjusting his collar, unfazed) That’s for wasting my time. Now where is your boss?
Gateman: (holding his bleeding hand) He… he is inside…
Kelvin: Fool.
(He storms into the house.)
Kelvin: Where is that son of a—
Adekunle: (calmly, without moving) I am here.
Kelvin: You! You had the guts to call the police on me? How dare you?
(Adekunle remains silent, staring at him.)
Kelvin: So you won’t talk? You don’t even know who you’ve messed with!
(He punches Adekunle hard. Adekunle does not react.)
Kelvin: Get up and fight!
Adekunle: Hit me as much as you want… I won’t fight you. Just leave my house.
Kelvin: Or else what?
(He punches him again. Blood forms at the corner of Adekunle’s mouth.)
Kelvin: You are weak! I will make you pay for humiliating me in front of everyone!
Adekunle: (quietly) You should have listened when they warned you to stay away from me… maybe my life wouldn’t have turned into this.
(Kelvin raises his hand again, but suddenly, armed police officers enter.)
Police: Take one more step and I will shoot.
Police: Mr Kelvin, you are under arrest.
Kelvin: (laughs bitterly) You called the police again?
(He tries to attack, but the officers quickly overpower him and handcuff him.)
Kelvin: I swear you will pay for this!
Adekunle: (tired, emotionless) Take him away.
(The police drag him out.)
(Kelvin’s voice fades as he is taken away.)
(Adekunle stares blankly at the wall, then suddenly throws his phone to the ground.)
(His mother rushes in.)
Mum: My dear, what happened? (she hurries to him) Your face… did Kelvin do this?
Adekunle: I’m fine, Mum.
Mum: Thank God you called the police… look at you… (she gently wipes the blood from his mouth) I brought your favorite food…
Adekunle: Mum… please leave. I just want to be alone.
Mum: (takes a deep breath) I understand… I am sorry for coming uninvited… let me at least put the food in the fridge.
Adekunle: You wanted to replace my wife… now you are doing it. Are you happy?
Mum: Adekunle, please… not again… I regret everything… I said I am sorry… what happened was destined… but you refuse to move on…
(Adekunle looks at her sharply, anger flashing in his eyes.)
Mum: Fine… I’m leaving.
(His phone rings.)
Adekunle: (picks it up) Hello…
Abu: As-salamu alaykum.
(Adekunle freezes, recognizing the voice. He quickly stands.)
Adekunle: Wa alaykum salam, sir… good afternoon, sir.
Abu: Good afternoon. How have you been?
Adekunle: I’m fine, sir… and you?
Abu: Alhamdulillah… you haven’t come to see your daughter. Why? Just because she lost her mother does not mean she should lose her father too.
(Adekunle’s eyes fill with tears.)
Adekunle: Sir… I don’t have the courage to face you… or her… I have hurt your family deeply… I cannot forgive myself… please, find it in your heart to forgive me.
Abu: Lukman… what has happened is the will of Allah. Everything happens according to His decree. Khadijah belonged to Him, and He has taken her back. We must accept it.
(He pauses gently.)
Abu: Come and see your child. Maybe when you see her, you will begin to heal. She needs you now more than ever. Do not let her suffer because of your guilt. Your wife gave her life just to bring her into this world. Come… see her. She is the best gift Khadijah left behind.
(Adekunle wipes his tears slowly.)
Adekunle: Okay, sir… I will come tomorrow… I promise.
Abu: Insha Allah.
Adekunle: Insha Allah, sir.
Abu: As-salamu alaykum.
Adekunle: Wa alaykum salam… (he lowers the phone slowly, then collapses into the chair, weeping)
(His mother stands quietly behind him, watching, unable to speak.)
(Curtain)