Inside the Mosque
Habibah: (covers her mouth, whispers) Shhh… we’re in the mosque. Don’t drag attention.
Sefinat: (shocked, trying to process) I’m… I’m so sorry. He should be jailed for this. Why didn’t you report him to the police? He deserves to be punished.
Habibah: (chuckles bitterly) He’s my husband, Sefinat. I brought him into my life with full confidence—believing we’d spend forever together.
Sefinat: But that’s not your fault. Now that you know who he truly is… (gently touches her shoulder) Are you okay? Are you in pain?
Habibah: (smiles faintly) You’re sweet. I’m trying to get better.
Sefinat: But this is rape we’re talking about, Habibah. He should be held accountable.
Habibah: He can’t be punished. That’s his right over me… he’s my husband.
Sefinat: His right? To rape you? Is that what Islam teaches?
Habibah: No! Don’t say that. Islam would never permit such immorality.
Sefinat: Then tell your parents. Let them hold him accountable.
Habibah: (looks down, silent)
Sefinat: Please, Habibah. Your life could be in danger. Who knows what he might do next? Men are unpredictable. That’s why I haven’t settled down yet—I fear men more than I fear snakes.
Well… except my brother.
Habibah: (trying to change the topic) So… why didn’t your parents do anything about his death?
Sefinat: (sinks into thought) Actually… (clears throat)
Habibah: (taps her gently) It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.
Sefinat: No… I do. I don’t know why, but I feel safe with you.
Habibah: (smiles) Likewise.
Sefinat: My brother and I grew up in an orphanage. We never knew our biological parents.
Obviously, they’re dead. I mean… who gives birth to twins, goes through labor, and just walks away?
Habibah: That’s heartbreaking… truly.
Sefinat: The people who claimed to be Jamiu’s parents? They weren’t.
He was adopted at age ten. We always hoped to be adopted together, but they only wanted one child. The orphanage said they couldn’t care for us both without support.
I was devastated when he left. I stayed behind and grew up in that place—alone. We kept in touch, though. But now… I’m alone in this world.
Habibah: I’m so sorry. That must have been so difficult.
Sefinat: It was.
Sefin and I shared a bond that’s hard to explain.
When I found out about the terrible things he’d done—the ones that led to his death—I was angry, hurt, disappointed. I ran away and returned to my state.
But I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
Something didn’t feel right… and I need to know the truth.
I may not be able to bring him back, but I must find out who killed him.
Habibah: (gently rubs her back) You’re really strong, Sefinat. I admire your courage and your fearlessness.
Sefinat: And I admire everything about you—except your marriage.
Habibah, you need to leave that marriage before he does something even worse to you.
Habibah: I’m trying. But I need a source of income. Right now, it’s my parents who send me small stipends to survive.
He starves me. He hurts me.
So I saw this online business—affiliate marketing. I did some research. It seems legit… and halal.
I’m thinking of giving it a try.
Sefinat: Affiliate marketing? Never heard of it. Just be careful. Scammers are everywhere.
Habibah: I know. But the woman teaching it is Muslim too. A niqabi like me. Her story touched me. I trust her. But… (voice trails off)
Sefinat: But what?
Habibah: It’s nothing. I’ll figure it out.
Sefinat: Come on, talk to me. We’re close friends now, remember? Unless… you don’t see me that way.
Habibah: No! That’s not it.
It’s just… she said I need to register for a course to learn the skill properly.
Sefinat: How much?
Habibah: Twenty thousand naira.
I’ve saved ten thousand, but every day, I dip into it to survive.
Her posts hit me like arrows. Like she’s speaking directly to me.
I need to act. Otherwise, I’ll remain stuck like this.
Sefinat: Then let me give you the money.
Habibah: What?! No! I can’t accept that. Never.
Sefinat: Come on—I just want to help my friend.
Habibah: I said no. Where will you even get that amount?
Sefinat: I work at an eatery every night. Plus, someone else supports me, but I’d rather not say who.
Habibah: Still no. I can’t burden you. I won’t.
Sefinat: Fine. How about this—you borrow it. Just repay me when you start earning.
Habibah: Still no. Let’s change the topic… or maybe head back to class. (puts on her niqab)
Sefinat: I wish we could stay here longer. I really enjoyed your company. (smiles as she scans her from head to toe)
I still can’t believe the beauty behind that niqab.
Just know—if you ever need help: emotionally, mentally, financially, or physically—I’ll be here for you. Always.
Habibah: Now you’re sounding like an angel.
Thank you for everything.
Sefinat: No, thank you—for trusting me and letting me see the real you.
It’s… amazing.
Habibah: (chuckles and grabs her hand) Let’s go.
A Few Days Later – Evening at the Eatery (Item7Go)
The city buzzes with life—cars honking in night traffic, people rushing home, streets glowing with headlights. One by one, cars pull into a popular eatery: Item7Go.
Sefinat: (attending to customers)
Welcome, sir. Welcome, ma. What would you like to order?
Customer: Uhmm… rice with chicken, Five Alive, and shawarma.
Sefinat: Alright sir, that’s ₦9,500.
Customer: (hands over the money)
Sefinat: Thank you, sir. (prints and hands the receipt)
You’ll be attended to over there. Thanks for coming.
Customer: (nods and leaves)
Sefinat: (turns to next customer)
Welcome to Item7, sir. What would you like to order?
Jabir: Thank you. I’d like rice with chicken for two—and two servings of coleslaw.
Sefinat: That will be ₦7,000. (starts entering the order but suddenly sees Khalid walking toward them, smiling)
(to herself) What is he doing here again?
Khalid: Yo, bro! What’s up?
Jabir: (smiling, they shake hands)
How far now? Look at you—fine boy.
Khalid: Abeg, stop whyning me. You’re the one looking fresh—soon-to-be graduate. You dey glow, guy.
Jabir: Thanks, man.
Sefinat: (hands Jabir his slip without looking at Khalid)
Here’s your slip, sir. You’ll be attended to over there.
Jabir: Alright, thanks. (walks away) Come on, bro.
Khalid: (noticing her properly)
Wait—you’re working here too? Why are you everywhere?
Sefinat: I should be asking you that.
Jabir: (calling from the queue) Bro! You placing your order?
Khalid: Yeah, one sec. (turns back to Sefinat)
You’re unbelievable.
Sefinat: I’m unbelievable… for trying to survive?
Khalid: (calls out) Jabir!
Jabir: Yeah bro?
Sefinat: (suddenly remembers something) Wait… is he in our department? Or HND2?
Khalid: Why do you want to know? Mind your business.
I’ll have rice with chicken and an extra piece of chicken.
Sefinat: Please just tell me.
Khalid: So you can stalk him, abi?
Look, he’s clean, alright? Not like those campus thugs.
Whatever you’re thinking, delete it. Now give me my slip.
Sefinat: (reluctantly hands him the slip) Here, sir. Thank you.
Khalid: Better. (joins Jabir)
Sefinat: (thinks back to what Anna said)
Yeah… she said his name was Jabir.
I need to find a way to talk to him.
Co-worker: Why are you lost in thought? Customers are waiting!
Sefinat: Oh! I’m so sorry.
Welcome to Item7. What would you like to order? (steals glances toward Jabir and Khalid)