26/07/2025
Tobi was my boyfriend. He had a little sister Amara. She was eight. Very quiet. He told me she was staying with him temporarily because their aunt, who normally took care of her, travelled. It was a long distance relationship.
Tobi lived in a small rented flat at the back of a compound with few tenants. The living room had one brown couch, a standing fan and a small curtain that separated the bedroom from the rest of the space. A small old tiger generator was mounted by the corner of the living room. The place wasn’t much, but he always kept it clean.
He worked part-time at a printing press in town, helping them design posters and flyers. Sometimes jobs came in, sometimes they didn’t. It wasn’t stable, but it paid just enough to cover his rent, a few meals, and whatever little Amara needed. Since he brought her to stay with him, he started turning down shifts, just to stay close and keep an eye on her.
Every time I visited, I asked about Amara. He’d point toward the bedroom and say, “She’s sleeping.” Always sleeping. As in, Morning, afternoon, and night same story.
He had this habit of always washing her underwear by himself. He never let me help. Amara had so many pánts more than I thought a child her age would even need. One day I came with a doll and a drawing book. I asked if I could give it to her myself. He smiled quickly and said, “Just leave it here. I’ll give her when she wakes up.”
Weeks passed. I never saw her awake. Once, I tiptoed into the bedroom when he went outside to get something from his car. She was lying still, wrapped in a pink blanket. The room had barely any light; just a thin ray from the window. No TV. No toys. No schoolbag.. Her face looked pale, like someone who hadn’t felt the sun in days.
“Maybe she’s sick,” I thought and left.
I asked Tobi once if she had friends around or went to school. He replied, “She’s not too strong, so I let her rest mostly.”
But something about that didn’t sit well with me. Kids love playing even when they’re sick, they want attention, they want company.
Then one Sunday, I stopped by unannounced. He looked surprised. The house was oddly spotless. I asked about Amara, and he said she was sleeping. Again!
I asked to see her. He hesitated.
“She’s... not feeling too well today,”
I looked at him. “Let me just talk to him please. Even if it's just a minute?”
He didn’t speak. He just turned and walked to the room. I foll0wed behind slowly.
He opened the curtain halfway and whispered, “She’s resting.”
But I saw her.
Sitting at the far end of the room. Staring at the wall.
Just staring. Not blinking. Not moving.
My heart was beáting fast. I stepped inside.
“Amara,” I called gently.
She didn’t answer. Didn’t even look my way.
I went closer. Her hands were fidgeting with the edge of the mattress. Like she was trying to keep herself distracted.
I sat beside her slowly. “Are you bored? Do you want to draw?” I said, showing her the drawing book I had brought.
She blinked once and that was all.
I turned to Tobi. “What happened to her?”
He looked down. Then said, “Our uncle.”
That was all he said. That one line, and everything made sense. The silence. The stillness. The fear in her eyes. The consistent washing of her undîes. The reason she “sleeps” all the time.
She wasn’t sleeping.
She was hiding in pain inside herself.
Tobi had taken her away from their uncle’s place after he found out. But he didn’t know how to help her heál. So he kept her close, hoping time would fix it.
He said he didn’t tell anyone because he didn’t want people looking at her with pity. “She’s already been through too much, Let her stay here with me and regain herself gradually” he said.
That day, I didn’t know what to say. I just sat beside her. Quietly.
I still check in sometimes.
She’s still quiet. But now, she lets me hold her hand.
Healing is slow. But it’s happening.
And I’ll wait.
Nicholas Stephen
July 25th, 2025
