Chapter 1
685 Words
Amina stepped into the room and immediately sensed that something was wrong. The air felt heavy, as if it was holding its breath. Everyone inside had red, swollen eyes. No one spoke. No one even seemed to notice her at first.
She shifted her schoolbag on her shoulder and looked around, confused.
“What is going on?” she asked quietly.
No one answered.
Her eyes moved slowly across the room until they rested on the bed. Her mother lay there, unusually still. The wrapper she always wore at home was neatly arranged around her. Her head was turned slightly to one side, her eyes closed as if she were sleeping.
Amina frowned.
She walked closer.
She reached out and tapped her mother gently on the shoulder.
“Mom,” she said softly, “I will be late for school today. Remember we are having our assembly.”
Her mother did not move.
Amina waited.
She tapped her again, a little firmer this time.
“Mom?”
Still nothing.
Amina turned back to the adults in the room.
“Why isn’t she answering me?” she asked.
An aunt looked away. Another woman wiped her face with the edge of her scarf.
Amina felt a small knot form in her stomach.
She leaned closer to the bed and took her mother’s hand. It felt colder than usual. She pulled her hand back quickly and stared at it, as if unsure what she had just felt.
“Mom,” she said again, her voice shaking slightly, “wake up now.”
There was only silence.
Behind her, someone began to cry. Not the quiet kind, but the deep, broken crying that made Amina’s heart beat faster.
She turned around.
“Why is everyone crying?” she asked. “Did something happen?”
Her father stood near the door. His eyes were red, his face drawn.
He walked toward her slowly and placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Come outside,” he said gently.
“I haven’t finished greeting her,” Amina replied. “She didn’t even answer me.”
He didn’t respond. He simply guided her out of the room.
Outside, her brothers sat quietly. One stared at the ground. The other hugged his knees tightly.
Amina looked from one face to the other.
“Why are you people sitting like this?” she asked. “Did mom shout at someone?”
No one answered her.
She was still standing there when her father came out.
He crouched in front of her and held her small hands in his.
“My dear,” he said, struggling to speak, “your mother has gone to rest.”
Amina blinked.
“Rest?” she repeated. “Is she tired?”
He nodded slowly.
“So she will wake up later?” she asked.
He did not answer.
Amina pulled her hands away.
“You didn’t answer me,” she said. “She promised to come to my school.”
Her father lowered his head.
That was when she heard the crying again. Louder this time. It came from inside the house, spilling out through the windows and doors.
Amina felt her chest tighten.
“No,” she whispered. “You are joking.”
No one laughed.
Later, when they allowed her back into the room, her mother had been dressed in white. People stood around the bed, whispering and shaking their heads.
Amina went straight to her mother and touched her hand again.
“Mom,” she said quietly, “I’m here.”
Nothing.
She shook her gently.
“Wake up now,” she said. “They are crying too much.”
Someone pulled her back.
“She can’t hear you anymore,” a voice said.
Amina shook her head.
“You’re lying,” she replied. “She hears me.”
But even as she said it, she knew something had changed forever.
That night, she lay awake, staring into the darkness, listening to the sounds of a house that no longer felt like home.
Her mother had stopped answering her.
And no one could explain why.
- Writer
