MONIFE

Eighteen

MONIFE

Chapter two

For a long time, I believed I would escape it.

The shame, the pattern, the curse, if it could be called that.

My mother had always feared that life would repeat itself through me. She never said it out loud, not in those exact words, but I saw it in her eyes. The way she watched me interact with boys. The quiet panic when I came home five minutes late. The protective silence that followed any conversation about dating, love, or bodies. It was as if she was always bracing for something to go wrong.

And I, in all my teenage confidence, believed I was smarter than fate.

I was eighteen and focused. School was almost over. I had passed all my mock exams. My teachers liked me, especially the English teacher, who said I spoke like someone meant for more than this town. I believed him. I believed I was going somewhere, that my voice, like my mother’s once was, would open doors.

Then it happened.

I was eighteen.

Just one year older than my mother had been when her own world collapsed.

The birthday party wasn’t even a big deal. Just a few classmates, drinks, music, and borrowed clothes. I told my mother it was a “small get-together.” She looked at me for a long time before nodding, and that was all the permission I needed. I wore a friend’s floral dress, glossed my lips, and tied my hair with a scarf Mummy had used when she was my age.

I remember feeling excited, grown, even. I wasn’t looking for trouble. I wasn’t looking for anyone. But somehow, trouble always knows where to find you, especially when you think you’re untouchable.

His name was Dayo. I didn’t know him well but I had seen him before that night. Not closely though, just...in passing. He was a cousin to one of the girls in my class. He had shown up at school a few times during our inter-house sports and had this way of laughing like he belonged everywhere and watching people confident, smooth, and just slightly dangerous. He was the kind of boy people noticed without even trying.

We had exchanged glances at once. Maybe twice. Nothing serious.

I ignored him at first but he remembered me. I didn't know that then. I only found out the night everything changed.

I saw his friends whispered something to him and then he walked up to me for the second time.

"You are Monife, right?' he had said, like we already knew each other.

I nodded, slightly confused.

"I've seen you at school," he added with a small smile.

That should have been nothing. And maybe...it was supposed to be.

But then, he offered me a drink. Something sweet and fizzy in a red cup. I didn’t want it, but everyone else was drinking, and I didn’t want to seem uptight. So I took it. One sip turned into two. The music was loud, the room warm. People danced, laughed. My head spun a little, but I blamed it on excitement.

I didn’t see it coming. I never even imagined it was possible.

All I remember is the spinning. Then the darkness. Then hands I didn’t recognize. A room I didn’t walk into. A voice that told me, “You’ll be fine.” But I wasn’t fine. I was frozen. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t scream. I don’t remember crying. Just numbness. Cold, silent, crushing numbness.

When I woke up, I was alone.

The party was still going on outside. Someone was playing Burna Boy. Laughter floated in from the balcony. My dress was pulled halfway down my legs. I sat up slowly, heart pounding, stomach heavy. I didn’t understand what had happened, not completely. But I knew I was no longer the same.

I left that night without saying goodbye. I walked home in silence, refusing to think. I changed into my nightgown, wiped my makeup, and lay beside my mother like nothing happened.

Days passed. Then weeks.

I kept it to myself.

I smiled when I had to. Ate when I could. Studied, prayed, slept, repeated.

But my body knew.

I began to feel tired all the time. My chest hurt. I couldn’t stand the smell of kerosene. The food I used to love suddenly made me sick. I tried to deny it and tried to convince myself it was just stress, maybe a virus. But deep down, I knew.

I walked into a small pharmacy one Saturday afternoon and bought a test. The attendant gave me a look I couldn’t name. Pity? Judgment? Maybe both. I took it home and locked myself in the bathroom.

When the two pink lines appeared, I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just stared.

Pregnant.

Eighteen.

Unmarried.

And I hadn’t even told anyone what happened that night.

I sat on the cold floor for what felt like hours. The walls were closing in. My breath was shallow. I wanted to rewind time. I wanted to blame someone. I wanted to disappear.

But instead, I just sat there…

a silent reflection of the very woman who had raised me.

And for the first time in my life, I was afraid to face her.

To Be Continued.