She was sweeping, but the hunger gnawing at her stomach made it impossible to move quickly. Tears streamed down her face as she swallowed her pain, knowing that if Balaraba heard her crying, she would be in even bigger trouble. Balaraba didn’t care if she was hungry—she would just beat her more.

Halfway through, she couldn’t continue. She sank to the ground, covered in dust. Her eyes wandered toward the pot where Balaraba had left the morning food. She knew there had to be something left inside. That’s why Balaraba had warned her not to wash that particular pot.

Slowly, she dragged herself toward it and lifted the lid. Inside was a small amount of cooked rice, dried out from being left uncovered. She didn’t waste any time. She reached in with her hands, stuffing it into her mouth as quickly as possible, choking slightly due to how little there was. Before she knew it, the food was gone.

She didn’t even realize when she dropped the water bottle she had been holding.

"Iyeee! Oh, I see now!" Balaraba’s voice rang out, making her heart pound. “So you think I have no control over you? You’ve grown so bold that you now eat before finishing your chores? I told you to finish sweeping first, but no—you’re sitting on top of the water pot eating? So you’re even full, huh?”

Maryama began trembling, clasping her hands together in desperation. “Please, Maman Hafizu! Please, I—”

Tasss! Tasss! Two sharp slaps landed on her face before she could finish.

Then came a harsh kick, sending her stumbling. Balaraba grabbed a thick geza stick and continued beating her. At first, Maryama begged for forgiveness, but soon, she couldn’t even form words. All she could do was gasp for breath, her body going limp from the pain.

It was only when their neighbor, Indo, rushed in that the beating stopped.

"Haba, Maman Hafizu! Why are you beating her like this? You’re hitting her like she’s an adult! Have mercy!" Indo cried out, rushing forward to pull Maryama away.

But Balaraba wasn’t done. She lunged forward, trying to grab the girl back. “Stay out of this, Indo! You always interfere in matters that don’t concern you! Hand her back to me!”

Indo didn’t argue. She simply lifted Maryama, who was now limp like a rag doll, and carried her away, leaving Balaraba ranting to herself.

"Let her come back! I’ll deal with her then! No one will protect her from me in this town!" Balaraba fumed as she stomped back into her room.

---

Around 2:45 p.m., Malam Habu and his sons returned from the farm. Balaraba was still boiling with anger, waiting for an opportunity to finish what she had started.

"What is it this time, Balaraba? You never get tired of being angry," Malam Habu sighed.

Balaraba glared at him. "Oh, so that’s all you have to say? No wonder all these children disrespect me! It’s because you support them!" She ranted on and on, pacing back and forth.

Malam Habu let her finish before calmly responding. “Balaraba, how could I ever encourage my children to disrespect you? Please, let’s not argue about this. If you don’t believe me, just tell me what you want me to do.”

Balaraba didn’t hesitate. “Malam, Sadiqu is old enough now. He shouldn’t just sit at home anymore. Take him to an almajiri school so he can gain more Islamic knowledge.”

Malam Habu smiled. “That’s a great idea, Balaraba. If that’s what you want, consider it done. He’s like your own son, after all, and I know you only want what’s best for him.”

---

Sadiqu had overheard everything. His heart sank. He rushed into his room, his thoughts racing. Today, he fully understood what it meant to have lost their mother.

All he could think about was his younger siblings, especially Maryama and Najibu. If he left, who would protect them?

The only thing keeping him together was knowing that his siblings depended on him. The thought of leaving Maryama behind in this house filled him with dread.