Amina felt as if the earth beneath her feet was crumbling. Her stepmother's voice sliced through the air, dripping with practiced sorrow. The early evening sun cast long shadows across the compound, as though even the light wanted to back away from the unfolding scene.
Maryam's eyes glistened with false tears as she continued her performance.
"Musa," she whispered, "I didn't want to say this… but I can't hide it anymore. Your daughter needs help. She's becoming a danger to herself—and to this home."
Amina's heart hammered. "Baba, please—"
"Be quiet!" Musa snapped, turning to her with a hardness that made her stomach twist. He rarely raised his voice. When he did, it meant something inside him was breaking. "Let her finish."
Maryam moved slowly, deliberately, as she walked toward the charred remains of Amina's schoolbooks. She crouched, holding a half-burnt page between her fingers. "Look at this. She burned her own books to make it look like I did it. This child wants people to see me as wicked."
Amina blinked hard, breath shaky. "I would never—"
But Maryam talked over her smoothly. "I saw her earlier carrying kerosene. I thought she was going to clean something… I didn't know she was planning this."
Musa looked from Maryam to the ashes on the ground, and Amina saw confusion deepening in his eyes. He wanted to believe Amina—but Maryam had already planted enough doubt to cloud his judgment.
"Why would she do something so foolish?" Musa asked.
Maryam lowered her gaze, shaking her head. "Children who feel unseen do strange things. Maybe she's craving attention… maybe she's angry that you remarried… maybe she blames me for her mother's death."
Amina froze.
That accusation hit her like a slap.
Her mother's death was something Amina barely understood—something wrapped in sadness and secrecy. Never once had she accused Maryam of anything. She had simply accepted her loss like a scar she learned to live with.
"Baba, that's not true," Amina said softly. "I don't blame anyone."
But Musa's face remained tense.
Maryam seized the moment. "There is more," she said in a low, trembling voice. "I have been seeing signs for months. I didn't want to believe it but… Amina may be following her mother's footsteps."
Musa's breath caught.
Amina stared, confused. "What does that mean? What footsteps?"
Maryam approached Musa and whispered dramatically, "Your first wife… she wasn't as innocent as you think. She kept secrets too.
"Enough," Musa snapped sharply. "Don't speak about the dead."
Maryam instantly switched tones, appearing "hurt," stepping back slowly as if she had only been trying to help.
"I'm only trying to protect our home, Musa. I won't say more."
A thick silence settled.
Amina felt sick. She didn't understand the undertone of Maryam's words, but she sensed something sinister. Her stepmother was trying to stain her mother's memory—and use it to destroy her.
Her grandmother stormed out of the house at last, having heard enough. Mama Laraba's frail frame shook with anger as she pushed past Maryam.
"You wicked woman," she hissed. "You think tears can cover every lie? You want to turn this house into fire. And Musa—" She turned sharply to her son. "Open your eyes. Look at your daughter. She's telling the truth."
Musa clenched his jaw. "Mother, please—"
"No!" Mama Laraba stepped between Amina and Maryam protectively. "I won't let you destroy this child."
Maryam scoffed. "Oh please. Everyone knows you favor her. Even more than her own father."
Amina felt the tension choking the air.
Her father looked at her again, and she saw something devastating there—doubt battling with love.
"Mama," Musa said softly, "I'm simply tired. I don't know who to believe anymore."
Amina's heart shattered at those words.
The house she once thought was a shelter had become a stage where her stepmother played the victim, and her father had unknowingly taken a seat in the audience.
Her grandmother sighed heavily. "Amina, come inside. Ignore all this."
Amina obeyed, stepping away from the ashes of her books. As she walked past her father, she paused, searching his face for any trace of the man who used to lift her onto his shoulders and call her his little star.
But he wouldn't even meet her eyes.
Inside the House
The air felt thicker inside. Amina sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the wall, trying not to cry. She wasn't sure which pain hurt more—the lies being told about her, or the fact her father seemed to be slipping away from her.
Her grandmother entered the room quietly and closed the door.
"My child," Mama Laraba said gently, sitting beside her. "You must be strong. Evil has entered this home, but God will not sleep."
Amina leaned on her grandmother's shoulder. "What did I do wrong? Why does she hate me so much?"
"You did nothing," Mama Laraba whispered. "Some people cannot stand light. It exposes their darkness."
Amina swallowed hard. "I didn't burn my books, Mama."
"I know." Mama Laraba stroked her hair. "And one day, the truth will stand tall."
But Amina wondered if the truth would matter when her father's trust was already slipping through her fingers.
Days Later… The Darkness Grows
From that day forward, Maryam intensified her cruelty. Little things at first:
She hid Amina's uniform.
Claimed Amina broke plates she didn't touch.
Locked the kitchen when Amina was hungry.
Poured water on Amina's textbooks again.
Whispered to neighbors that Amina was becoming "spoiled."
Amina became the target of gossip at school. A few classmates started avoiding her. Even teachers noticed she seemed quieter, distracted, tired.
She studied with borrowed notes.
She slept on a damp mattress because the roof still leaked.
Her shoes tore but she wore them anyway.
Her father stopped giving her pocket money.
Only Rahila remained loyal. Only her grandmother kept her human.
But Amina held on to her dream with trembling hands.
She still came first in class.
And that made Maryam even more vicious.
The Breaking Point
One Saturday morning, Musa announced he needed to check some missing money. He had been saving secretly for repairs on the roof. Now the envelope was empty.
"Who took it?" he murmured, his voice low with shock.
Maryam placed a hand dramatically over her chest. "Musa… I didn't want to say anything. I really didn't. But…"
Amina's stomach clenched.
Maryam turned toward her slowly. "I saw Amina near your room yesterday. I thought maybe she was cleaning… but now I'm not sure."
The room spun.
"No!" Amina cried. "I didn't! I've never stolen anything in my life!"
Musa's face hardened. "Amina… look at me."
She looked up, her eyes swimming with tears.
"Did you enter my room yesterday?"
"Yes. I swept the floor. Mama told me to."
"Is that all you did?"
"Yes, Baba. I swear."
Maryam shook her head and sighed loudly. "God knows I'm trying to keep peace. But this girl needs correction. We can't keep ignoring the signs."
Amina felt something inside her snap.
The humiliation.
The lies.
The false accusations.
The way her father looked at her as if she were turning into a stranger.
She broke.
Her voice shook as she whispered, "Baba… you really think I took your money?"
Musa hesitated.
That hesitation told her everything.
Amina's tears fell silently—hot, painful, and heavy with betrayal.
Before Musa could answer, the front door suddenly burst open.
Rahila rushed in, breathless.
"Amina! Come outside! Something is happening!"
Confusion swept through the room.
"What now?" Maryam snapped.
Rahila grabbed Amina's hand. "Please. Come. It's your father's friend… he's at the gate."
Amina blinked, unsure.
Then she heard the man's voice calling out for Musa. Something urgent. Something desperate.
A shiver ran through her.
This moment…
This interruption…
This strange tension in the air…
It felt like something big was about to unfold.
Something that would shake the entire household.
Amina stepped outside and froze.
Standing at the gate was her late mother's closest friend—
holding a brown envelope,
sweating nervously,
and looking as though he had been carrying a secret too heavy for one man.
"Musa!" he shouted. "I can't keep quiet anymore. You must hear the truth about what happened the night your wife died."
Amina felt her breath stop.
Her stepmother's eyes widened in fear.
And everything…
everything
was about to change.