Amina woke up with a pounding headache. The argument from the previous night still echoed in her ears—Maryam's voice like a whip, her father's silence cutting deeper than any insult. Her cheek still throbbed where Maryam had slapped her.
But she got up anyway.
She had a test to prepare for.
She had a future to fight for.
She washed her face quietly, ignoring the sting, and stepped outside to draw water. The morning sun was rising shyly behind the clouds, painting the sky with soft streaks of orange.
Mama Grace noticed her swollen face immediately.
"Oh, child…" she whispered, pulling Amina close. "You don't deserve this. None of it."
Amina breathed deeply, resting against her grandmother's shoulder. "Mama… if I stop now, everything I've suffered will be for nothing."
Mama Grace cupped her face gently. "Then don't stop. But promise me you'll be careful. When a woman like Maryam feels her power slipping, she becomes dangerous."
Amina nodded. She already knew.
At school, Fatima rushed over the moment Amina walked through the gate.
"Amina! What happened to your face?"
Amina forced a small smile. "The usual."
Fatima didn't smile back. "One day, I'm going to drag that woman to the police station myself."
Amina laughed weakly. "Please don't. She'll blame me for it."
Fatima squeezed her hand. "You're too soft."
"Or I'm just tired," Amina said quietly.
Inside the classroom, John noticed her the second she stepped in. His normally calm expression hardened when he saw the bruise.
"Who did that to you?" he asked, voice low.
Amina looked away. "It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me," he said.
Something warm flickered in her chest, but she swallowed it quickly. She couldn't afford distractions. Not when everything at home was erupting.
Their teacher, Mrs. Olaniyi, entered the room with her usual gentle composure. But when she looked at Amina, her eyes softened.
"Amina, please see me after class."
Amina felt her chest tighten with worry. Had something gone wrong with her scholarship arrangement?
When the bell rang, she walked into the staffroom.
"Sit," Mrs. Olaniyi said softly.
Amina sat.
"I need you to understand something," her teacher began. "You have one of the sharpest minds I've ever taught. But brilliance doesn't protect you from people who fear it."
Amina blinked, caught off guard.
"I spoke to the scholarship board again," Mrs. Olaniyi continued. "They've agreed to schedule your preliminary exam off-site. Somewhere safe. Somewhere your stepmother can't interfere."
Amina stared at her, stunned. "Ma'am… why are you doing all this for me?"
"Because someone once did the same for me," she replied quietly. "And because I see myself in the girl standing in front of me."
Amina's throat tightened. "Thank you. Really."
Her teacher smiled. "Don't thank me yet. Pass the exam."
Later that afternoon, as Amina walked home, dark clouds gathered in the sky. The wind picked up, sending dust swirling across the road.
A storm was coming.
And not just in the sky.
As she approached her house, she heard shouting from inside. Her father's voice. Maryam's voice. The children crying.
Her stomach clenched.
She pushed the door open and froze.
Her father stood in the middle of the room, holding a torn shirt—Sarah's uniform. Sarah sobbed in the corner, and Daniel clung to her leg. Maryam was pacing furiously.
"What's happening?" Amina asked.
Her father rounded on her. "Did you tear your sister's uniform?"
"What? No!" Amina gasped. "Why would I—"
Maryam spun to face her, eyes blazing. "Don't pretend! Sarah said she saw you do it before school!"
"That's a lie!" Amina cried, turning to Sarah. "Sarah, look at me. Did I touch your uniform?"
Sarah looked terrified. Her small hands trembled as she wiped her tears. "M-Mummy said I must say it… or she'll beat me."
Amina's father's eyes widened.
The room fell silent.
Even the ceiling fan seemed to pause.
Amina's heart hammered. She slowly turned to look at her father, hoping—desperate—for him to see the truth.
Maryam lunged forward. "The child is confused! She doesn't know what she's saying—"
"Enough!" her father yelled.
Everyone froze.
"That child just told the truth," he continued, voice dropping dangerously. "Maryam, why would she say that unless you told her to?"
Maryam's face drained of color.
But she recovered quickly. "She's lying! You know how impressionable children can—"
"No," he said quietly, shaking his head. "I'm starting to see things clearly now."
Amina felt the world tilt, a strange mix of fear and hope crashing over her.
Was this it?
Was this the moment he finally saw Maryam for who she was?
Maryam's eyes flicked from him to Amina, panic rattling her composure. "She's trying to turn you against me! I've done everything for this family!"
"And you've also done everything to destroy Amina," he said.
Maryam stepped back as if slapped.
Amina stood frozen, barely breathing.
Her father looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time in years. His voice cracked.
"Amina… I'm sorry."
Her eyes flooded instantly.
But before she could speak, a loud bang hit the door.
Everyone jumped.
Another bang. Harder this time.
A man's voice growled from outside. "Open this door now!"
Mama Grace rushed in. "Amina, hide—go to the back!"
The banging grew violent.
Maryam clutched her chest. "Who is that?!"
No answer.
Just pounding.
Amina grabbed her siblings and pulled them toward the inner room, her heart thundering. John's warning earlier echoed in her mind—You matter. Someone needs to protect you.
But right now, she could barely protect herself.
The door shook under the force of the hits.
Her father moved toward it cautiously.
"Who's there?!"
No response.
Just one final, deafening slam—
Then silence.
Everyone stood frozen.
Amina clutched the children tighter, her breath shaky.
The storm broke outside, thunder splitting the sky as rain poured down.
Inside the house, one truth hung heavy in the air:
Whatever that knock was—
Life would never be the same after this night.