<p> </p><p> </p><p>—</p><p>As I entered the room, I found him sitting and staring intently at the door I had just walked through. I stumbled slightly as I walked, feeling nervous under the intense gaze he fixed on me.</p><p>I knelt down to greet him, and he responded warmly. I found a place to sit at a distance, but he moved closer and held my hand. I quickly pulled away and shifted away from him, speaking boldly.</p><p>“Why are you touching me? Do you want me to get pregnant out of wedlock?”</p><p>He immediately covered my mouth. “I am your husband. If I touch you, it's not a sin. And who even told you that touching you would get you pregnant?”</p><p>I pouted. “My mother told me not to let any man touch me because that’s how pregnancies happen.”</p><p>He chuckled. “Your innocence is amusing, Niimatullah.”</p><p>I frowned. “Oh, so now I’m amusing?”</p><p>I stood up to leave, but he grabbed me and pulled me back down, kissing me.</p><p>I screamed, “Let me go! Do you want to make me pregnant out of wedlock?”</p><p>He locked his deep eyes on me. “Never say that again. If I get you pregnant, the child will not be illegitimate. I am his father, and he will have a rightful father.”</p><p>I nodded reluctantly and moved away from him. His voice softened as he spoke with a hint of affection.</p><p>“Why are you avoiding me, Wife of an Elder? Do you still not love me?”</p><p>I simply replied, “No.”</p><p>After our conversation, he handed me two hundred naira. “Take this and buy whatever you need.”</p><p>I shrugged, acting spoiled. “Keep it. I don’t need anything. My parents provide for me.”</p><p>He left the money for me anyway. “Now your responsibility has shifted from your father to me. You must accept that.”</p><p>He left the room, and I followed behind him. Before leaving, he knelt down and greeted my mother respectfully.</p><p>Leaning my head on my mother’s lap, I told her, “Mother, this old man just held my hand for no reason. I hope I’m not pregnant!”</p><p>She looked at me, speechless. I stood up and anxiously checked my stomach. "Check for me, mother. Am I pregnant?" Tears welled in my eyes.</p><p>Seeing how distressed I was, she reassured me. “This is your husband. If he touches you, it’s not a sin. You were only warned against allowing strange men to touch you.”</p><p>I nodded, but my heart was not at ease. Even at the Islamic school, I asked my friend, and she gave me the same response as my mother, being older and wiser.</p><p>On our way home, a car parked in front of us, and two fair-skinned women stepped out. They blocked our path and asked, “Who is Niimatullah?”</p><p>Trembling, I replied, “It’s me.”</p><p>One of them grabbed me and looked me over from head to toe before bursting into laughter.</p><p>The other woman spoke. “Wow! Daddy Munir really disrespected you. Of all the women he could marry, he chose this little thing? Look at her! She doesn’t even have developed breasts!”</p><p>They laughed and high-fived each other.</p><p>The first woman sneered. “I agree. What will he do with this underfed child? Look at her—she doesn’t even seem clean. But at least she’s a little pretty.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
