The Next Morning…
Blessing: (coming out of Fatimah’s room, looking worried) Mom?
Where is Fatimah? I can’t find her.
Grace: (silent, avoiding eye contact).
Blessing: (moves closer, impatient) Mom, I’m talking to you!
Grace: Lower your voice! Shebi you’re better now? So why are
you shouting? Don’t disturb my life, abeg.
Blessing: (shouts angrily) Mom! Where is Fatimah!?
Abdulrahman: (stepping out of his room, phone in hand) Ehhh,
you’re disturbing me with your noise. I’m on a call, abeg.
Blessing: (hisses) Mtteew! Mom, please don’t tell me you sent
her out of this house.
Grace: (calm but firm) Well, for your information, yes. I did. I
realized she’s a bad omen in our lives. Because of her, I lost your
father… I almost lost you last night because of her again.
Before she kills us all, I had to send her away.
Blessing: (shocked, staggers back and falls to the floor,
covering her ears) You… you did what!? Nooooo! This can’t be
happening right now! Noooooo!!!
Grace: (snaps) You’re too dramatic, jor.
Abdulrahman: (irritated) See, you’re disturbing me o.
Blessing: (suddenly jumps up, runs outside frantically, shouting)
Fatimah! Where are you?! (She runs back inside, tears rolling
down her face, glaring at her mother) Mom! You are a witch!
Grace: (stunned, standing to her feet) What did you just call me?
Blessing: (screaming) You heard me! Witch!
Abdulrahman: (furious, moves closer and slaps her hard across
the face) Are you mad!? You called our mother—a witch!?
Blessing: (enraged, rushes to the kitchen,
grabs a knife, trembling with anger) Oya! Hit me again if I won’t
kill you, bastard!
Grace: (panicking, voice trembling) Blessing, please! Put the
knife down… please.
Abdulrahman: (stammering, sweating) Ble…ssing… ple…ase… put
the… the knife down.
Blessing: (pointing the knife, tears falling uncontrollably) If you
ever raise your filthy hand on me again, I swear, I won’t hesitate
to kill you! Innocent Fatimah… all alone. You sent her out of the
house! Where on earth do you expect her to go? She has no one
but us—why!?
(She breaks down in tears, her voice trembling)
Blessing: (drops the knife with a loud clang, breathes heavily)
I’m out of here! (She storms off angrily to her room).
Grace: (collapsing into a chair, crying bitterly) What has
Fatimah done to this family? God, why!?
Abdulrahman: Mom, stop crying. (He tries to approach her).
Grace: (snaps at him, her voice sharp like thunder) Don’t you
touch me! You caused all this! Yes—you were at fault, but I still
blame Fatimah. Everything she touches turns into pain! All I’ve
ever done is to protect both of you, but what do I get in return?
This!? (She storms angrily into her room, slamming the door).
---
Meanwhile… in another house.
(Fatimah slowly enters the spacious living room, her eyes wide in
wonder. The house glitters with luxury and peace).
Fatimah: (whispering, amazed) Wow… so beautiful. (She turns
slowly, admiring everything around her).
Hajia Habibah: (smiling warmly as she walks in) Good morning,
sleepyhead.
Fatimah: (quickly kneels on the floor) Good morning, ma.
Hajia Habibah: (surprised, rushing to lift her up) Oh no, my dear,
don’t kneel! That’s not necessary. (She gently helps her stand).
How was your night?
Fatimah: Fine, ma.
Hajia Habibah: (suddenly notices her arm) Uhmm… how did you
remove the injection from your hand? You’re bleeding!
Fatimah: (looks at her hand, startled) Oh! I didn’t even notice…
Hajia Habibah: (grabs her hand gently but firmly) Come with me.
Alh. Ismail: Baby, I’m off to work.
Hajia Habibah: Okay honey, take care.
(He exits. Hajia Habibah enters her room where Fatimah is
seated. She wipes her hands as she sits across Fatimah.)
Hajia Habibah: So, can you tell me a little about yourself?
Fatimah: (smiles nervously, scratching her neck) Uhhmm… my
family… my mom chased me out of the house.
Hajia Habibah: Your mom?
Fatimah: Although she’s not my biological mother. According to
what I heard, my dad found me on the road when I was six
months old.
Hajia Habibah: Subhanallah!
Fatimah: (voice trembling as she narrates) That’s why I was sent
out of the house…
Hajia Habibah: (in tears) I’m so sorry you had to go through all
that alone, without any helper. I promise to find a better life
for you here. But first, you need a proper check-up.
Fatimah: (falls on her knees) Please ma, I’m ready to be your
maid. Just let me stay in this house. I have nowhere else to go,
please!
Hajia Habibah: Get up! Get up, jor!
Fatimah: (crying, refusing to rise) Please… let me be like this.
Hajia Habibah: Get up, please. Okay, I will accept you.
Fatimah: (sits, wiping her tears) Thank you ma… thank you so
much, ma’am!
Hajia Habibah: I can only accept you on two conditions. First, if
my husband accepts. Second, you must be a true Muslim—a
practicing Muslimah.
Fatimah: (with hope in her eyes) I promise! I will do anything!
Hajia Habibah: (smiles softly) Welcome to the religion of peace.
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