Amina didn't notice her father's subtle change at first. He had always been a quiet man, a thinker rather than a speaker. But after Maryam's whispered lies, small things began to shift.
Musa no longer smiled when Amina ran to show him her school results. He didn't ask about her day or pat her head absentmindedly the way he used to. Instead, he studied her with eyes that held confusion—uncertainty—pain.
As if he was searching for something wrong.
Something that didn't exist.
One evening, after school, Amina and her best friend, Rahila, walked home together. Rahila was the only friend she had who understood her hunger for education. They sat under the mango tree in the schoolyard, sharing groundnuts and laughing about one of their teachers who always mispronounced students' names.
"You're lucky," Rahila said. "You're always first in class. You'll become something big."
Amina smiled sadly. "Not if my stepmother has her way."
Rahila's laughter faded. "What has she done now?"
Amina hesitated. "She… makes it difficult. There is always some problem. I don't know why."
"Maybe she's jealous," Rahila said bluntly. "Some people don't like to see others shine."
Amina shrugged. The truth felt heavier than words.
When she got home that day, Musa was waiting for her. His face was unreadable.
"Your stepmother said you left school early," Musa said, his tone sharp.
Amina blinked. "No, Baba. I didn't—"
"She said she saw you with some boy behind the classrooms."
Amina felt the world tilt. "Baba… that's not true."
Musa's jaw tightened. "Are you calling your mother a liar?"
Amina's heart cracked a little. Mother. The word did not fit Maryam. It never had. She swallowed hard, forcing the tears down.
"No, Baba. I'm just telling you the truth. I was with Rahila."
Musa stared at her a long moment before turning away, shaking his head as if trying to clear confusion. Amina watched him go, helpless.
Behind him, Maryam stood half-hidden behind the curtain, smirking.
That night, Amina cried silently into her pillow. Not because of Maryam. Not because of the false accusations.
But because she saw doubt—real doubt—in her father's eyes for the first time.
Days turned into weeks. The house became a maze of whispered accusations and taut silences. Maryam made sure to drop small, calculated lies everywhere.
"Amina is disrespectful."
"Amina hides things."
"Amina is stealing."
"Amina is meeting boys."
Each lie was a needle piercing the fragile fabric of trust between father and daughter.
Her grandmother noticed immediately.
One evening, after Maryam left for the market, Mama Laraba drew Amina close, studying her face.
"My child," the old woman said softly, "don't let the darkness entering this house enter your heart."
Amina finally broke down. "Mama… I'm not doing anything. Why is she like this? Why does she want Baba to hate me?"
Mama Laraba cupped her face gently. "Wickedness rarely needs a reason, my child. Sometimes it grows from jealousy. Sometimes from greed. Sometimes from fear."
Amina nodded slowly, wiping her tears. "I didn't do anything."
"I know," her grandmother whispered. "And God knows. Stay true to yourself."
Her grandmother's words were a balm—but not enough to stop the coming storm.
The First Attack
It happened in the middle of the night.
Amina woke to shouting, loud footsteps, and the heavy sound of wood striking metal. Armed robbers were at the door. Maryam screamed so loudly it pierced through the walls. Musa rushed out of bed, fumbling in fear. Mama Laraba grabbed Amina and dragged her under the bed.
The robbers broke the door, stormed the house, and demanded everything phones, money, jewelry. Musa begged, voice trembling. Maryam threw herself on the floor crying dramatically while Amina held her breath in the darkness.
One robber kicked Musa in the stomach and spat, "Your wife opened her mouth in the market. That's why we came. Next time, warn her to keep quiet."
Amina's eyes widened.
Maryam caused this?
Before she could process it, the robbers were gone. The house was turned upside down, roof leaking again, the night echoing with Maryam's exaggerated sobs.
But when the dust settled, Musa turned and shouted at Amina:
"Where were you hiding?! You could have helped! You should have come out!"
Amina froze. "B-Baba… how could I help armed robbers?"
Maryam wailed louder, "She doesn't care about us! Imagine—she sat there while we were dying!"
Amina looked at her father's face and saw it again—that doubt, laced now with frustration and fear.
The storm inside the house was becoming worse than the storm that once tore their roof.
The Beginning of Obsession
Maryam became obsessed with breaking Amina's spirit.
She hid Amina's books.
She poured water on Amina's schoolbag.
She locked her in the bathroom on days Amina had exams.
She whispered lies to neighbors to isolate her.
She convinced Musa that Amina was becoming wayward.
Yet through everything, Amina kept studying.
Sometimes with a candle.
Sometimes under the leaking roof.
Sometimes in the neighbor's corridor.
Sometimes during chores.
Sometimes secretly at night with torn pages she hid under her mattress.
Her grades stayed high.
And that only enraged Maryam more.
One afternoon, after another long day of school, Amina returned to find her exercise books burning in the compound. The smell of burning paper hit her like a fist.
"No!" she screamed, running toward the fire.
But Maryam stood beside the flames, smiling. "You don't need books. Focus on house chores. Good girls don't chase big dreams."
Amina fell to her knees, watching the only things she loved—her notes, her stories, her goals—turn to ash.
Something shifted inside her.
A quiet vow.
A silent fire.
She would survive this. She would outgrow this house, this pain, this prison. She would win—not for revenge, but because she deserved a life bigger than the one Maryam wanted to trap her in.
But destiny wasn't done testing her yet.
As she stared at the ashes, her father arrived, took one look at the scene, and asked the most painful question he had ever asked:
"Amina… what evil have you done this time?"
Maryam stepped forward, placing a dramatic hand on her chest.
"Musa… I think it's time you know the truth about your daughter."
Amina felt the ground crumble beneath her.