At night
Hajia Habibah: (enters Fatimah's empty room) I can’t believe she’s gone… Why? Why didn’t she tell me what’s going on? I’m already missing her. (She begins to search the empty room.) What am I even searching for? Mtmm… I need a break. (As she’s about to leave, she spots a pile of money on the floor.) Wait! Don’t tell me she didn’t take this money with her? Subhanallah! How is she going to cope? (She picks up the money and heads to her room.) Baby!
Alh Ismail: (pressing his laptop) Yes, dear? What is it?
Hajia Habibah: (showing him the money) Can you believe Fatimah didn’t take this with her?
Alh Ismail: (raising his head) Are you serious? Let me see.
Hajia Habibah: (hands him the money) How is she going to cope at that wicked woman’s house?
Alh Ismail: (examining the money) Wait… I think she took some, but just a little. I would have counted it, but I’m too busy.
Hajia Habibah: Are you sure she took some?
Alh Ismail: Yeah… I remember how I gave it to her. I just hope she’s in safe hands.
Hajia Habibah: I miss her already… everything about her. (Looks sad.)
Alh Ismail: (noticing her mood) Come here, my dear. (He cuddles her.)
(Curtain)
---
Around 8:30pm
Fatimah is still on her way home, her mind racing. She can barely remember her home address. After hours of walking, she finally sees her street.
Fatimah: (talking to herself) Take a deep breath, Fatimah… You have plans, right? You won’t let them bully you… you must stand for the truth. But wait… Did she say she’d kill me if I stepped into her house? No… I can stand on my own now. I can do this… No, you can’t, Fatimah. Are you okay? You’re about to face three people on your right… They’ll just… but… I can do this. (She smiles) Enough talking in my head. (She walks faster until she reaches her home gate and begins to knock.)
Grace: (in the middle of prayer) Thank you, Jesus… Heavenly Father, please forgive me, renew me, I am now a changed person. Have mercy on me, in the mighty name of Jesus… (she hears a knock) Amen! Who is knocking at my door? (She goes to check.)
Fatimah: I… I’m the one, Mom… (Her voice shakes.)
Grace: That voice… it sounds familiar… You—who?
Fatimah: Please… open the door. (She quickly holds her mouth and mutters to herself) I can’t believe I just said that.
Grace: (opens the gate and is shocked to see Fatimah holding two luggages, dressed modestly and covering her hair) Fa… Fa… Timah! Is that you?
Fatimah: Yes, Mom. Good evening.
Grace: Good evening… (tries to mask her shock)
Fatimah: You don’t have to act like that. I came back home because this is my home… my dad’s house. I don’t care if you still hate me. I belong here too. So, if you plan to maltreat me again, I’m ready for you.
Grace: (speechless)
Fatimah: Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to carry my things to my room.
Grace: (steps aside, still in shock at her appearance)
Fatimah: (enters the house and is shocked at how messy it is) Mom? What happened here? Where are my siblings?
Grace: They… they don’t live here anymore.
Fatimah: Why? What happened?
Grace: Whatever happened is none of your business. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to sleep.
Fatimah: Good night, Mom.
Grace: (noticing Fatimah’s changed appearance) Why are you dressed like that… like a masquerade?
Fatimah: Well… because I’m now a Muslim. A real Muslim.
Grace: Whatever… (she heads to her room)
Fatimah: (smiling to herself) I can’t believe I faced her… Masha Allah! Wow… I just hope she won’t insult me before morning. I need to be careful. Anyway… I have a lot of work to do here, but first… my room. I need to pray now.
Middle of the night, around 3 a.m.
Grace wakes up from sleep to get some water from the kitchen. As she heads there, she notices Fatimah praying and crying.
Grace: (talking to herself) Why is she crying… and praying? At this hour? Do I even care? (She walks past her and heads to the kitchen, but to her greatest surprise, the kitchen looks so clean and brand new.) Wow… when was the last time this kitchen got cleaned? Now that’s how a real kitchen looks! (She drinks water quietly and heads back to her room.)
---
The next morning, around 8:30 a.m.
Fatimah knocks at Grace’s door.
Grace: Who is there?
Fatimah: It’s me, Mom. Breakfast is ready.
Grace: Breakfast? (She opens the door.)
Fatimah: Good morning, Mom.
Grace: Morning… How was your night?
Fatimah: (smiling gently) Breakfast is ready, Mom.
Grace: I could have sworn there’s nothing in this house… no food at all. Where did you get it?
Fatimah: I know, so I went myself to the morning market and got a few foodstuffs.
Grace: (surprised) Are you serious? With which money?
Fatimah: The money my guardians gave me.
Grace: Your guardians?
Fatimah: Yes, Mom. Just come and eat now.
Grace: I’m not hungry, thank you.
Fatimah: (smiling and holding Grace’s hand toward the dining table) Wait… do you think I would put poison in your food? If I wanted to, I could have done it long ago… I wouldn’t even care about going to jail. But I’m not that person anymore. I’m a new Muslimah. No matter how you chase me out of this house or your mind, I still belong here. I don’t pay evil with evil. I only prepared a light breakfast for us, so please… come, Mom. Please sit.
Grace: (sitting down, feeling pleased to see her house beautiful again)
Fatimah: Here is bread, fried egg, hot water, and other things. Take yours and serve me.
Grace: Serve you?
Fatimah: No, Mom. That’s not how you used to do it. I still love it when you serve me.
Grace: (tears threatening to fall, but she holds them) Okay…
Fatimah: Thank you, Mom. (She smiles warmly.)
(Curtain)
---
Meanwhile, in the dining room:
Alh Ismail: Baby, aren’t you done cooking? I’m late for work! (He shouts.)
Hajia Habibah: I’m almost done!
Lukman: (enters the kitchen and sees his mom wiping tears) Mom, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?
Hajia Habibah: I miss Fatimah… I miss her so much. (She bursts into tears.) And this… this is all your fault!
Lukman: I’m sorry, Mom… I miss her too.
Hajia Habibah: Will you shut up!
Alh Ismail: What’s going on? Are you done cooking yet?
Hajia Habibah: (quickly wipes her tears) Almost… I’m just toasting the bread.
Alh Ismail: Are you okay, honey?
Hajia Habibah: I’m fine… you too, stop asking so many questions! (She bursts into tears.)
Lukman: Mom… it’s okay now!
Hajia Habibah: If you say another word, I will send you away!
Alh Ismail: (embracing her) It’s okay, my dear. From now on, I approve your next decision.
Hajia Habibah: Do you even know what’s on my mind?
Alh Ismail: Yes… of course. You want a maid, right? I approve it.
Hajia Habibah: (bursts into tears again) I don’t want a maid… I want Fatimah. No one can be like her.
Alh Ismail: I know… but what can we do? She’s not ours.
Hajia Habibah: I wish she was!
Lukman: Mom… it’s okay, I miss her too.
Alh Ismail: We all do. Lukman, I want to see you in my office today. You are to start working immediately.
Lukman: (mood changes) Okay.
Alh Ismail: (still embracing his wife, sniffing the air) Do you smell that? Something is burning…
Hajia Habibah: Ahh! The bread, the toaster! (She rushes to turn it off.) Breakfast is ruined! I’m sorry, honey… I need to start all over.
Alh Ismail: Don’t worry, I’m okay… I’m even late for work. (He kisses her forehead.) Bye.
Hajia Habibah: Bye.
Alh Ismail: Lukman, don’t forget what I said. (He heads out.)
Lukman: Okay… (sad face)
Hajia Habibah: What’s wrong with you?
Lukman: Mom… I don’t want to work under Dad. I want my own business! I’m a graduate; I want to be my own boss.
Hajia Habibah: That’s your problem. Look, I’m not even in a good mood, so don’t make it worse… I’m seriously mad at you. Now, if you’ll excuse me. (She leaves the kitchen angrily.)
Lukman: Mom!!
Hajia Habibah: Don’t call me!
Lukman: What about my breakfast?!
Hajia Habibah: Don’t you have hands?
Lukman: Come on!
(Curtain)
---
At Jamiu’s office:
Secretary: (knocks at the door)
Jamiu: Come in.
Secretary: Good afternoon, sir.
Jamiu: Afternoon… (looking tired and sad)
Secretary: Hope all is well, sir?
Jamiu: I’m okay… what do you want?
Secretary: Uhmm… our cleaner resigned from her job.
Jamiu: Why? Were you harsh towards her?
Secretary: No, sir! She quit because her salary was too small for the work.
Jamiu: How much was she being paid?
Secretary: #10,000, sir.
Jamiu: Oh… okay. Find another one.
Secretary: Okay, sir. (She heads out.)
Jamiu: (talking to himself) Fatimah… where are you?
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