It was a very hot and sunny Wednesday afternoon, I walked back home, from the masjid after the mid-afternoon tafsir, wearing a long black hijab and a black niqabi closing my face completely.

My eyes drifted to an old lady, holding a very big bag, bending over to one side, because of the heavy weight. Her wrinkles mimicked tiredness and  hardships, making her eyes smaller.

"Mama..let me help you with it" I stated, collecting the big bag and holding it with both hands.

"Thank you my child" she said. Her voice was hoarse and cracked. She looked so old. And her clothes looked worn out

I held the bag for her and followed her suit until we reached an old rustic house, which she seems to be living alone.

Chiming of metals against each other was heard as I placed the bag inside the mud room.

"Mama...I'll leave now, please take care of yourself" I spoke.

"My daughter...thank you so much. This old lady here has nothing to give you...but.." she said and unwrapped a knot in her wrapper. She took out two dates and extended her hands to me. "Here take this my child...May Allah bless you with the highest rank of Jannah. May Allah give you a righteous spouse"

I lifted my niqabi and smiled at her, then took one dates and held it. "Thank you for the du'a mama... I'll be on my way now" and with that I made my way home.

I reached home and something disturbing caught my eye. By the side where dishes were washed, were my antique drawings and paintings, squeezed and discarded in the most harshest way ever. I felt the anger in me build up, but I let my cool take over. I moved and touched the papers. They were drenched.

My step mother's cup of atrocious cruelty was almost full. Just one more drop from her and thats it. I went to my room without a word and changed my clothes.

It was ramadhan, at least during this period she could just pray to Allah to forgive her and stop hatching conspiracies and hurting people. I'm fasting, that's the only reason that stopped me from giving her a piece of her cake.

I tore open the envelope I slyly got from the post office this morning, a letter from my best friend, Asiya. It has been two months since she got married and left for the US.

Salam alaikum my dear friend, how have you been? I miss you so so much. I've settled in here, his family are really nice. I'm being taken care of and treated like a queen.

I know what you're thinking of Siya, he's really nice, and we're getting to know each other really well.

Its very cold over here, I miss the hot sunny days back in our village...oh and the beautiful sunset.

Anyways, I have to go now. And yes Dont worry about me, I'm happy over here leema, very happy.

It's high time you find a nice handsome prince and also get married, I'm going to dance like crazy at your wedding.

Bye leema. I love you.

I smiled at the last part of the letter. Just as I tucked the paper under my pillow, I heard screams from outside.

I hurried outside to find Maa Fatima, in a pool of blood, lying on the bare floor, clutching her stomach tightly and Mama Saratu, was standing by the side, smirking, her devilish children, watching in amusement. 

I picked her up and help her to her room, I was confused on what to do. Baba wasn't at home, how am I going to take her to the hospital.

I bolted to the house next door, and asked Auntie Yagaji for help. Panting heavily, I scurried back home, with Auntie Yagaji and another woman following suit. Tears were rolling down my cheeks as I saw Maa Fatima, unconscious. The other lady, that seemed to be a doctor, asked me to wait outside.

I stood outside the door for a while and cried, then wiped my tears and went to the devils chamber.

I banged the door open and and met her eating with her children. Seriously? It's ramadhan.

"Billahil lazi, if anything happens to Maa Fatima or her unborn child, then Wallahi, you won't live another day in this house. You've got away so many times, but this would be your last. This is a promise" and I shut the door angrily behind me.

After about thirty minutes, Auntie Yagaji and the doctor came out. They looked pale.

"What's wrong? Is she fine?" I asked.

"She's fine now, she needs to rest, but..."

"But what?" I yelled

"But her baby couldn't be saved" I felt the tears rolling down and I wiped them furiously. This is the fifth time...the fifth time she's killing Maa Fatima's child.

But this time, its the last. Her last crime.

I have a hard time controlling my anger. I have a very hot temper, and when I'm angry, I can't control my mouth or my palms. I could have given Mama Saratu a very tight slap when she passed by me laughing loudly and yodeling. But I controlled myself, instead I sat on the bare ground and took deep breaths, calming down a bit.

Maa Fatima regained consciousness after an hour, and I could see the pain in her eyes when the doctor told her about her child. Maa Fatima had been childless. She never gave birth to a child of her own, but she treats me as her own daughter ever since I can remember. I have a hazy memory of my mother, she looked exactly like me. Exactly. The only difference was that her eyes were silver, and mine's brown.

She passed away when I was six, and then baba married Maa Fatima. She was my savior from my step mothers' wrath.

I went outside and met the devil eye to eye. "Don't forget my promise to you, I never break promises" I thundered looking at her straight in her eyes. She laughed loudly, her wrinkles looking more visible.

"You can't do anything" She said and I swear I could have slapped her, but I didn't want to worsen the situation. I just turned to leave, but she held me back. "Your mother too tried to go against me, and where is she now?" She said calmly. "There's no one on this earth that can go against me, me Saratu" she spoke harshly, hitting her chest vigorously, she looked like the female incarnation of shaitan.

I smiled at her. Yes I smiled. And her face turned red on seeing the large grin on my face. "I know you have a hand in my mother's death, I don't have proof to prove my point, but remember, as you sow, so shall you reap. Allah is watching you" and with that I walked into Maa Fatima's chamber.

Baba was back a little earlier today. It was a few minutes to iftar. It was Maa Fatima herself that broke the news to him. She just told him she wasn't careful and she slipped. And that it was her fault. How can someone be so kindhearted?

I watched as he performed ablution, and headed to the Masjid for maghrib salat. I prayed in my room. Hurriedly ate the date given by the old woman to break my fast, and I headed to Baba's small sitting room and waited for him. I knew what was going to happen.

Hell will break lose today, because halima is tired of keeping mum.

Baba came back and he knew something was definitely not right from the look on my face.

"What's wrong Halima?" He asked.

"Baba...have I ever spoken a lie in my whole life?" I replied to his question with a question. Maa Fatima says when I lie, I stammer, so I stopped lying because I easily get caught. I just tell the truth, and in some circumstances that I can't tell the truth, I keep quiet.

"No...you have never lied. " he spoke with a confused look.

"I have something very important to tell you baba. Whatever I'm about to tell you now is nothing but the bitter truth. If there's a single lie in my words, May the One in whose hands my soul is, and The One that place a heart inside me, take it right away"

Baba looked at me shocked.

"Mama Saratu...." I started from the very beginning. From my childhood stories.

She won't live another day in this house, and that is Halima's promise.

***********

Cliffhanger....hahahaha.

Will she be able to expose Mama Saratu?

Will Baba believe her?

Keep reading....

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Husnah💖