"You have no right to stop me from making this girl sell goods since you're not the one taking care of her needs. If you want me to stop, you must take care of all her expenses, including feeding all of us," she said as she walked away, muttering loudly.

Malama Yahaya was silent, wiping away a tear from his eye.

Fahima, who had been selling goods, also wiped the tears that filled her eyes before entering the house. She approached her father and said, "Father, please be patient. Don't argue with Mother for my sake. I don't want anything to upset you."

He stroked the head of his beautiful daughter and said, "Fahima, may God bless you. May you also have people who will obey you."

With compassion for my father, I said, "Amen, Father."

As I walked away, I kept glancing back at my father, who had not moved from where I left him. My anger toward my mother grew even stronger as I thought about her behavior. Lost in these thoughts, I entered the house.

"Hey!"

I quickly looked at my mother, who had called me. She said, "Just because you spilled the money for my goods, you didn't even greet me when you came in. Now you're looking for an excuse to get money from me to buy medicine that I haven't budgeted for."

I stared at my mother as if she were a TV screen. Clearly, she cared only about her money, not about any injuries I might have sustained. That's typical of Mother; she only cares about her money.

Feeling dejected, I entered our dilapidated room. Anyone could tell it was an old building just by looking at it. I closed my eyes and looked at the ceiling, pondering the life my parents were living. My mother, Amma, had no respect for my father. She constantly quarreled with him and spoke harsh words to him just because he had no money. I was deep in thought when my younger siblings, Khalil, Nusaiba, and Haruna, entered the room. We were only four children because Amma had decided to stop having children after Haruna, claiming she was tired of childbirth since she was not given a proper naming ceremony. Now, Haruna was five years old, and even he was not spared from being sent out to sell goods. All my siblings were sent out to sell, each going out with their wares every morning.

Nusaiba's voice interrupted my thoughts. "Sister Fahima, that man you stopped me from seeing has called me again today, saying he wants to give me candy. I ran away."

I looked at my little sister with tears of pity welling up in my eyes. "Sister, are you crying? Please don't cry. If you cry, I'll cry too."

"I'm not crying, little sister. Please tell Amma about this, okay? We can't trust that man."

"Honestly, Sister, Amma won't believe me. She will beat me if I tell her. The last time I told her, she said I was lying and warned me not to tell anyone, not even you or Father. She said she would beat me if I did."

"Did Amma really say that?"

"Yes, Sister, she did. She said she would hurt me if I told anyone."

I hugged my little sister, sobbing over her plight. At just eight years old, some man was already trying to take advantage of her. Something had to be done because I knew Amma, for the sake of the money Nusaiba brought in from selling goods, would ignore any potential harm.

That night, while we were having our evening meal, Amma had gone to a friend's naming ceremony. I looked at my father, who was happily eating his food, and said, "Father, I need to talk to you."

"I'm listening, Fahima."

"Father, it's about Nusaiba. Every time she goes out to sell goods, a man calls her to his shop, saying he wants to give her candy. I told her to avoid him, but today he tried to grab her again," I said, sobbing. I loved my siblings dearly, especially Nusaiba.

My father was silent. He drank the water I had fetched for him, washed his hands, and put on his shoes before leaving the house.

Tears rolled down my face. What did this mean? Was my father now supporting Amma's behavior? I thought he would be concerned since it involved his daughter. But why hadn't he done anything? I sat there alone, voicing my worries to myself. Then, I returned to our room, feeling disheartened.