AYAT, THE OVERCOMER

EPISODE TWO: THE SHATTERED PROMISES

At night, Zaynab woke up with a deep sigh, stretching her tired limbs before sitting up on the woven mat. Her body still ached from the exhaustion of the day, and her mind was clouded with fear and uncertainty. Beside her lay a covered bowl of iyan and egusi, carefully placed by her mother. But she had no appetite, not when the weight of her secret pressed heavily on her chest.

She needed to see Youssef. She needed to tell him.

Moving silently, she tiptoed toward her mother’s door, pressing her ear against the wooden frame. The house was silent. Only the distant crackling of the dying àdìrò fire outside filled the night. She let out a small breath of relief and turned toward the front door.

Just as her fingers grazed the wooden handle, a door creaked behind her.

"Zaynab."

Her father’s deep voice cut through the silence like a blade.

Her breath hitched. Slowly, she turned. "Y-yes, Father," she stammered.

His gaze bore into her. "What are you doing out here?" His voice was heavy with suspicion. "You should be in your room, asleep."

Zaynab swallowed, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs. She couldn’t tell him the truth. "I… I’m pressed," she lied.

Her father studied her for a long moment. She felt his eyes scanning her face, reading her body language. The weight of his gaze made her stomach churn. Then, after what felt like forever, he sighed.

"Be quick and go back inside immediately."

"Yes, Father." She forced a smile before slipping out into the night.

The air was crisp, wrapping around her like a cold embrace. Shadows stretched across the compound, flickering under the dim glow of the moon. She hurried toward the àdìrò, crouching to scoop a few embers into a broken calabash, lighting them up with ògùnsọ̀ to use as a lantern. The warm glow did little to chase away the eerie stillness around her.

Her mother had always warned her, nighttime was for spirits and restless souls. Pregnant women, especially, were vulnerable. What if something followed her? What if a witch or a demon laid claim to her unborn child?

She shuddered but shook the thoughts away. No turning back now.

As she walked briskly through the narrow paths, her foot struck a sharp stone. Pain shot through her toe, and she gasped, stumbling forward. She barely caught herself before falling face-first onto the dirt road. A sharp sting burnt at her foot, and when she looked down, a thin stream of blood trickled from her big toe.

She froze.

Her mother had always said it was a bad omen to hit the left foot before an important meeting. A warning that things would not go well.

Was this a sign?

Her chest tightened. She clenched her fists and forced herself to push forward. No. Superstitions wouldn’t stop her now.

After what felt like an eternity, she reached Youssef’s home, a tiny wooden structure barely held together. The worn-out planks and patched cloths over broken walls made it look even smaller in the dim lantern light. She took a shaky breath, then raised her hand and knocked.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the door creaked open.

Youssef stood before her, shirtless, his dark skin glistening with sleep. His eyes were half-lidded with exhaustion, but when he saw her, they widened slightly. His brows furrowed.

"Zaynab?" His voice was groggy. "What are you doing here?"

She swallowed hard, her throat dry as dust.

"Can I come in?"

Without a word, he stepped aside.

The room was dimly lit, cluttered with schoolbooks and scattered clothes. A small wooden bed, barely big enough for one, sat in the corner. On the floor, an empty plate with remnants of eko and moinmoin rested beside a bundle of banana leaves.

He gestured for her to sit, but she remained standing, gripping the edge of her wrapper so tightly her fingers ached.

Youssef frowned, stepping closer. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders, his voice laced with concern.

"My love, what’s wrong? Why are you here so late?"

Zaynab’s lips trembled. She wanted to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Then, like a broken dam, the tears burst forth. Her shoulders shook as quiet sobs wracked her body.

Alarmed, Youssef pulled her into his arms. His embrace was warm, familiar, comforting. "Please, don’t cry," he whispered. "Tell me what’s wrong. Ọrọ ò sá à ní tóbi ká f’òbẹ̀ bú u. No matter the problem, there’s always a solution."

She pulled away slightly, wiping her face with the back of her hand. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

"I… I'm pregnant."

The words fell between them like shattered glass.

Youssef’s arms dropped to his sides. His body stiffened. His expression shifted from shock to something unreadable.

Silence.

Then, he let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair. "Tell me this is a joke."

Zaynab’s stomach clenched. "Have I ever lied to you before?"

He stepped back, shaking his head. "No… but this… this is bad, Zaynab. Really bad."

She frowned. "Bad? What do you mean, bad? We’re in this together. We’ll figure it out."

Youssef scoffed, his voice turning cold. "Together? Do you know what this means for me? I’m barely surviving. I'm sponsoring myself through school, struggling every day! And now you’re telling me you’re pregnant?"

Her heart cracked. "Youssef… you act like I did this alone. Like I wanted this to happen."

His jaw clenched. "Didn’t you?"

Her breath hitched. "What?"

"You’re the one who always brings me food, helps me with money sometimes… Maybe you thought having my child would tie me to you forever." He let out a bitter laugh. "You wanted to trap me, didn’t you?"

The slap came before she could stop herself.

A sharp, stinging sound filled the air as her palm connected with his cheek.

Tears burnt her eyes. "How dare you?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "I gave you my heart. I gave you my trust, including my body. And you think I would do this to trap you?"

Youssef's face darkened. He didn’t touch his cheek, didn’t flinch. He just stared at her with something icy in his gaze. Then, he pointed to the door.

"Get out."

Her breath caught. "Youssef…"

"I said get out."

Her hands trembled as she stepped backward. "You’re throwing me out? After everything?"

His lips pressed into a tight line. "I don’t know whose baby that is, but it’s not mine."

The words slammed into her like a dagger to the chest.

Zaynab stumbled toward the door, her pride keeping her from begging. She had come here hoping for love, for reassurance. Instead, she had been discarded like trash.

As she stepped outside into the cold night, something inside her shifted.

Something hardened.

She was truly alone now.

And she would never, ever forget this night.