From shadows to light

Chapter 4: THE IMPACT

Ammar couldn’t sleep.

2:17am. His room was dark except for the glow of his phone.

He kept seeing her. The girl in yellow aso-oke who didn’t belong,

but carried herself like a queen anyway. Back straight. Eyes watching everything.

For years he’d been told to find a "suitable" girl.

Zainab. Perfect gele. Perfect family. Perfect for business.

Eman wasn’t suitable. She was something better: real.

He rolled over and reached for his sketchbook on the nightstand.

For the first time in months, he didn’t draw buildings.

He didn’t draw the Iroko mural for the center.

He drew her eyes.

Wide. Tired. But there was fire in them. Like she was holding in a storm.

He shaded the charcoal until his fingers were black.

E. Adeyemi_, he thought. What are you doing in that house?

Across Peckham, Eman traced her locket.

The house was silent. Aunty snoring. Zainab out.

But. Ammar’s voice was still in her head: escape artist.

No one had ever seen her before. Not really.

Not as more than "Aunty’s niece who does the dishes."

She pulled out her charcoal. Her hands were shaking.

She didn’t draw a princess with a crown.

She drew a girl with a paintbrush. Standing in front of an Iroko tree.

Her back to the world, but her head held high.

Because something in her had shifted tonight.

Maybe I don’t have to wait for permission.

She tore the page out and tucked it into her wooden box.

Under the photo of her mama.