Mariam stared at the dinning table, her hands trembling as she adjusted the spoons for the third time. She glanced at the clock on the wall, it was 7:55 PM. He’d soon be home. She could feel his presence in the house already and felt so suffocated.
She had memorized every sound of his arrival from the screech of the car tires as he drove into the compound, the slam of the car door, to his heavy footsteps as he approached the front door. Mariam’s heart raced as she replayed it all in her head over again.
It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when his coming home was the complete opposite. She remembered when the house used to feel like a safe haven, when Kola’s laugh echoed through the corridor and his hands only ever held hers gently. But now, those same hands of his does one job to her - left bruises. His words, once sweet, had become sharp, pierces her deeper than she thought words could.
“Mariam! Open This Door!” His voice emerged from outside.
She rushed to open it, keeping her head slightly bowed. “Welcome Kola,” she said softly.
He brushed past her hurriedly without a glance. “And where’s my food?”
“It’s on the table, it’s set” she replied, her voice firm despite the fear beaming beneath.
Kola sat down and began to eat in silence. Mariam stood near the doorway, watching him and for the last time, she allowed him to treat her that way. The routine was always the same. To serve him, avoid breathing too loudly, avoid speaking without being asked, avoid provoking him, and pray the night passes without any issue. But tonight, the pattern was broken.
She had made a decision.
For months, Mariam had been silently gathering courage. She had saved bits of money, hidden beneath the clothes in her travel bag. She had met with her childhood friend, Amaka, who had offered her a place to stay until she found her feet. Mariam had written letters to herself, reminding herself of the girl she used to be, the girl with simple yet wonderful dreams who wanted to be an artist, happy and believed in love that didn’t hurt.
As Kola ate, she thought about the plan she had rehearsed in her head. She would wait until he fell asleep. She had already packed a small bag and kept it beneath the sink in the kitchen. Her heart pounded at the thought of leaving, but she knew staying was no longer an option.
“Mariam,” Kola said suddenly, pulling her out of her thoughts.
“Yes?”
“This food is cold.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied quickly. “I’ll warm it up.”
He stared at her, his gaze hard and sharp. “Don’t bother,” he said, pushing the plate away. He drank water instead. “You can’t even do the simplest things right. To cook, what more is required from you?”
She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat.
The hours dragged on. Kola drank himself to sleep in the living room while the faint hum of the television filled the silence. Mariam watched him from the kitchen doorway, grabbing the strap of her bag.
“This is the best time,” she whispered.
As quietly as she could, she slipped on her shoes and headed for the door. But as her hand touched the doorknob, a voice froze her in place.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She turned slowly to see Kola standing behind her, his eyes red and his expression curious and dark.
“I.. I was just stepping out for cool air,” she stammered.
“With that bag?” He stepped closer, his voice low. “So you think you can leave me, Mariam? After everything I’ve done for you?”
Her heart raced as she backed away, her mind was screaming at her to run, but her legs froze.
“I’m not leaving,” she lied, holding the bag tighter.
Kola gave a bitter laugh. “You’ll never survive out there without me. You think anyone else will want you?” He emphasized the “you”. “You’re nothing without me.”
His words cut deep, but for the first time, Mariam felt something other than fear. She felt anger.
“You’re wrong Kola,” she said, her voice shaking but firm. “I’m more than what you’ve made me believe. And I’d rather run trying to find myself than stay here and let you finish my life.”
Kola’s face changed in rage, but before he could respond, Mariam turned and walked out of the door. She didn’t look back, even as he shouted after her. She walked faster and faster and never looked back.
With her bag bouncing against her side and her legs ached, she didn’t stop and for the first time in years, she felt free.
When she finally reached Amaka’s house, she collapsed into her friend’s arms, tears streaming down her face.
“I did it Amaka,” she whispered.
Amaka held her tightly. “You won, my dear. You didn’t lose anything.”
And for the first time, Mariam believed it.
Thank you for reading!
