Mama said, “Teacher said RUMAINA should not come back without her school fees. She’s owing three months.”

Baba sighed deeply. “We’ve tried, wallahi. I always think about it. I don’t want my daughter to stay without education again. Allah knows my heart, and I know He will help me.”

He brought out some money—five two-hundred-naira notes.

“Allah never blocks all doors of provision. This money is from what I earned today at the farm. On my way back, I saw a man struggling with his car. I helped him fix it, and he paid me.”

Mama said, “Indeed, Allah never abandons His servant.”

He added, “Take this money. It will cover two months’ fees. By Allah’s will, I’ll complete the rest.”

Mama accepted it, praying for Allah’s blessings.

From my room, I overheard their discussion. My eyes filled with tears. Seeing my parents in hardship pains me deeply. Sometimes I wish I were a man so I could help my father, but even as a woman, my heart aches. I will continue praying for them.

I wiped my tears and returned to my studies.

Later, a boy came and greeted Mama, saying someone was calling RUMAINA. Baba said, “Tell them she is not allowed to talk to boys yet.”

The boy left. Shortly after, Baba went out for prayer.

Mama then asked me to perform ablution, pray, and go grind pepper. I prayed, took the money, and walked calmly to the grinding place.

On the way, Bashir (Sadam) blocked my path.

“RUMAINA, what does your father mean by refusing everyone that comes for you? Is he trying to force marriage on you because you’re beautiful? You know who I am in this area. Whatever I want, I get it. I won’t leave this beautiful face. Tell your father you want me. Tomorrow I’ll send my parents.”

I stopped him sternly.

“Stop it. Watch how you talk about my father. If you ever insult him again, I won’t tolerate it. Did you give birth to me? Who are you to impose rules on me? Don’t ever approach me with this nonsense again.”

Instead of getting angry, he smiled arrogantly, folded his arms, and stared at me flirtatiously. I hissed loudly and walked past him.

Even after grinding the pepper, he still followed me, but I ignored him.

I wondered why some rich people behave as if they own the world. Sadam was one of them—whatever he wanted, his wealthy father provided.

I entered our house safely. I washed the grinding stone, prayed Maghrib, revised my Qur’an, and slept.