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Amina picks at her food, her mind still reeling from the strange encounter—or was it a dream?—with Mami Wata. Grandma eats heartily, her sharp eyes occasionally flicking toward Amina, as if she can sense her granddaughter's unease.
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When they finish, Amina stands to clear the dishes, her hands trembling slightly as she stacks the plates and utensils. She's about to leave when Grandma's voice stops her in her tracks.
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"Amina, where's my medicine?"
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Amina freezes, then quickly retrieves the packet of malaria pills from the basket. She hands it to Grandma, her fingers brushing against her grandmother's weathered hands.
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"Here, Grandma. Take two with water."
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Grandma nods, popping the pills into her mouth and washing them down with a sip from the glass Amina offers. She sets the glass aside and fixes Amina with a piercing gaze.
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As Amina turns to leave, her hands tremble again, the basket wobbling in her grip. Grandma notices immediately.
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"Why are you shaky?" she asks, her voice sharp. "Are you pregnant?"
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Amina's eyes widen, her face flushing with embarrassment. "Aì, Grandma! No! Why would you say that?"
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Grandma's expression doesn't soften. "I saw Emeka leaving your room last night. Through the window."
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Amina's heart skips a beat. "Grandma, it's not what you think! He just came to talk—"
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Grandma cuts her off with a wave of her hand. "Don't lie to me, child. I may be old, but my eyes still work."
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Before Amina can protest further, Grandma stands with surprising speed and grabs her wrist, her grip firm and unyielding. Amina flinches but can't pull away.
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Grandma pulls Amina closer, her other hand reaching out to grasp her granddaughter's waist. She presses her palm against Amina's belly, feeling for any sign of pregnancy. Amina stands frozen, her cheeks burning with shame.
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After a moment, Grandma releases her, her expression softening slightly. "You're safe," she says, her voice quieter now. "But don't bring men into this house. Your father is a good man, but he's strict about such matters. Follow his rules, and all will be well."
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Amina nods, her eyes downcast. "Yes, Grandma."
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***
Grandma helps Amina pack the utensils into the basket, her movements slow but deliberate. As she hands the basket back to her granddaughter, she looks Amina in the eyes, her gaze filled with a mix of sternness and concern.
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"Be careful, child," she says. "The world is not as simple as it seems."
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Amina nods, though her mind is racing. How did Grandma know about Emeka? Did she really see him, or was it something else—something supernatural?
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As Amina walks back to her family's compound, the basket swinging gently at her side, she can't shake the feeling that something is watching her. The path is familiar, but today it feels different, the shadows deeper, the air heavier.
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She glances over her shoulder, half-expecting to see Mami Wata or the old man from the market. But the path is empty, the only sound the rustle of leaves in the breeze.
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When she reaches home, her mother is in the kitchen, preparing dinner. She looks up as Amina enters, her expression softening.
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"How's Grandma?" she asks.
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"She's fine," Amina replies, setting the basket on the table. "She ate well and took her medicine."
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Mama Nkechi nods, satisfied. "Good. Now, have you eaten?"
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Amina hesitates. "Not yet, Mama. I was waiting to get back."
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Her mother frowns. "You should've eaten with Grandma. A young girl like you shouldn't go hungry. Sit down and eat something now."
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Amina obeys, serving herself a small portion of the leftover jollof rice. As she eats, her mother rummages through her bag, her brow furrowed.
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"Amina, where's the rest of the money your father gave you last night? I only gave you ₦4,000 for the market. Where's the other ₦1,000?"
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Amina's heart skips a beat. The ₦1,000—the same amount she gave to the old man at the market. She forces herself to stay calm. "I... I must have misplaced it, Mama. I'm sorry."
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Mama Nkechi sighs, muttering under her breath about carelessness. "Well, keep an eye out for it. Money doesn't grow on trees, you know."
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***
As Amina finishes her meal, her mother turns to her with a serious expression. "Before you go, there's something else. Your father's friend's son from Lagos—the suitor—is coming for dinner tonight. He's in town, and he'll be staying in your elder brother's room at the edge of the compound. It's better than him paying for a hotel, and it will give him time to... observe you."
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Amina's stomach drops. "Observe me?"
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Mama Nkechi nods. "Yes. He wants to see if you're a good match. If you behave well, the dowry will be higher—more lavish. This is a big opportunity for our family, Amina. Don't ruin it."
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Amina forces a nod, though her mind is racing. She doesn't want to marry someone she's never met, especially not someone who's being forced on her. But she knows better than to argue.
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"Clean your room and your brother's room," her mother continues. "Make sure everything is perfect. We want to make a good impression."
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***
As Amina leaves the kitchen and heads to her room, her mind is a whirlwind of emotions. She can't stop thinking about the suitor. What does he look like? Is he handsome? She can't imagine marrying an ugly man, not when she has so many admirable qualities. She's intelligent, hardworking, and beautiful—everyone says so. Surely she deserves someone who matches her worth.
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But what if he's rude or arrogant? What if he expects her to be a submissive wife, cooking and cleaning without a thought for her own dreams? The thought makes her stomach churn.
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As she begins tidying her room, she glances at the talisman in her pocket. It's a small comfort, a reminder that there are forces at work beyond her control. But even the talisman can't protect her from the decisions her family is making for her.
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