Roshbee Stories

19/04/2026

Nah Roshbee Delights And Decor borrowed me for now. SCAR is still ongoing...

Anyways, I make the best SNACKS in Nigeria.

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17/04/2026

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Roshbee Stories

17/04/2026

Beloved RoShBeE FANmily, bawo ni day? Trust it's going on well? May Allah grant us the best.

I need your assistance to make my sister win a contest. Your vote, comment and share will give her opportunity to win.

And guess what... We'll be having two chapters next in appreciation.

How to help her WIN, Follow this link...

Like, and comment TEAMZAINNY, and share massively. You can comment more than once. We can achieve this, let's goooooo. JazakumuLlah Khayran, may Allah grant your heartfelt desires.

https://www.facebook.com/100029974637766/posts/1698179651191173/?app=fbl



Roshbee Stories

16/04/2026

SCAR

A STORY BY ADEBAYO ROSHEEDAT ABISOLA (RoShBeE)

Chapter Eighteen (18)

The moment Yéwándé stopped speaking, silence sat heavily in the air like something alive. Fatimah didn’t blink, Faruq didn’t move. Even Balkiss who's busy with house chores stopped, Mrs Tenigbore’s hand crossed, all ready to hear what she's here to say and her purpose of the visitation.

Yéwándé stood in the middle of the room, on her chair, she looked around, heaved and then started.

“Please don't blame Mummy Basirah, she made me visit you. She told me the truth, she's the light to the dark house I was living in. I never know.”

“I didn’t know.” She said again, looking straight at Fatimah.

“I swear by Allah’s, I didn’t know he had children. I didn’t know he left a whole family behind. I didn't know you're sent out. Why will I let the innocence suffer because of me? If I'd known, I would have set things right. He didn't tell me he's married, he said his girlfriend left him because he travelled out and he had been looking for a serious lady to settle down with. He lied about everything.” Yéwándé paused.

“I only found out after I came here,” She continued.

“It was your neighbour… Mummy Basirah. She told me everything. About your mother, your struggle as the children. And how the cruel woman sent you away from home and how you're ignored. I never know, I'm in my late 40’s and never had a child, why would I be so cruel to maltreat children I suppose to honor and raise as mine. Wallahi I didn't know, I loved your father, and that's why we married. And it's because of my love for him I travelled down home, even when he's deported. I loved him and was sincere with him about everything. I just got to know why he was deported from a co-worker. We met in Dubai, my workspace.”

Yéwándé exhaled slowly, she's already teary. For a moment, she didn’t speak because she's scared how the truth they're ready to hear will sink in them.

“When I met your father in Dubai, he wasn’t like this. And you can never know he's going through a lot.”

“We worked in the same industry but different departments. He's the kind of man that made you feel safe just by standing beside him.” Yewande paused and Faruq looked away, while Fatimah hissed silently.

“He had a good job, and a stable income.” Yéwándé continued.

“I’m not saying this to hurt you.” She said quickly, trying to calm the angered children.

“I’m saying it so you can understand how everything changed. He would always send money home to his children and his mother's weekly hospital checkup. All these were from his transaction description, his report said everything.”

"Haaa, hospital check up.”

"According to the report I got, it said he'll collect salaries before the end of the month and send them home. I check the evidence and it's your grandma’s name. He took care of his children, but Mummy Basirah let me know it's a lie.”

“Everythng started falling apart for him, he wouldn't talk nor tell me about it. And we would talk and talk, I'll tell everything about me and he would even advise.”

“All of a sudden, he lost his job.” She paused. Faruq’s eyes flickered slightly, tons of questions playing in his head.

“He didn’t tell anyone at first. Not me… not anyone back home. And we smile every day. The reason I know Mummy Basirah and source wasn't lying was that, there's a day we're together and we're watching a movie with his phone connected to the TV. Mama called and said she couldn't walk and needed to go to the hospital immediately. He was sad and I could read it as he dropped the call. I had to voluntarily borrow him because I had naira in my Nigeria account. He's a hardworking and dedicated man.”

“He kept pretending everything was fine, and didn't know he lost his job.” Yéwándé added.

“Still dressing up every morning… still leaving the house like he was going to work. He pretended everything was fine but it's already falling apart.” She inhaled and wiped her tears.

“He tried to get another job and that's when I know he lost his job. But in our industry system, if your visa is tied to your company, once that job is gone, your time starts counting.” She paused and Faruq frowned slightly.

“Counting?” He asked and she nodded.

“Yes,” she nodded.

“He has limited time to find another sponsor. But he couldn't and became illegal. Unlike me, I joined through my certificate, I schooled in Dubai and was given work immediately as part of the top students.

“And he didn’t find one in time.” She added and cried already.

“But that wasn’t even the worst part.” She continued and they were listening fully.

“He had debts, but he didn't even tell me until he was deported.

“What kind of debts?” Faruq’s head snapped slightly.

“Money he borrowed, things he tried to maintain, a lifestyle he didn’t want to lose. I never knew his home wasn't up to the luxury he lived in Dubai. The debt and the weight of demand from home wrecked him.” Her voice softened, Fatimah smirked.

“He was trying to keep up appearances. And I was suffering for my siblings. I hawk every day till I get admission and he would always listen to his mother's words. And he'll always scold me hearing only what Grandma says. I even slept under the bridge, in the rain because I didn't make a sale. He lived in luxury while we lived in rags, trash and public school education.” Fatimah closed her eyes, pained flowing through her vein.

“He didn’t want me to know he was struggling,” Yéwándé continued.

“He kept spending, kept promising, kept acting like everything was under control. But Dubai doesn’t work like that.”

“When those debts weren’t paid, it became a big problem. A serious one, I learnt he got warnings, messages, pressure and one day, he's detained.”

“They detained him, like someone whose time had expired. They told him his visa was no longer valid. His debts were flagged. And he had no legal standing to remain. I wasn't aware at all until I'd to make an investigation now that I married him. I stood by him, and he said that his visa had expired and he thought it's the coming year. And he got notification not long. All his explanations then convinced me and I was blind in love to trust his words without reasoning it.”

“And just like that, everything he built there ended. They processed his deportation within days. And I promised to try my best and get him back on track. I told my family I'm coming home and they arranged my visa. I got to Nigeria and introduced him and the date was chosen. All the bills were on my family. They gave him a job here for sustainability, while working on our visa back to Dubai. His debt was cleared and everything, I helped him with all my life behind the scenes. I didn't know he had children. I didn't know he was cruel, I didn't know how he forced your mother to death. I didn't know, I didn't know he'd be a devil. He slapped me and all I see is he's always following his mother's command. I've cried and cried in my few months of marriage. He'll always slap me, beat me and I had a miscarriage for him, why should I stay in such a marriage? I'm sorry, I wasn't the one that sent you out.”

"I'm sorry, I didn't know and have never been part of his conspiracy. I'm sorry." Yéwándé was crying profusely already, including others in the room.

Silence filled the air…

“Wallahi my mummy suffered, I can't just say she's killed by him and my grandmother. That woman…”

To be continued…

A STORY BY ADEBAYO ROSHEEDAT ABISOLA RoShBeE

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15/04/2026

SCAR

A STORY BY ADEBAYO ROSHEEDAT ABISOLA RoShBeE

Chapter Seventeen (17)

“You hung up on me? You this unfortunate children. You should have left with your mother. Your siblings willingly left home and you're pregnant, without even my knowledge. And now, you've given birth. Radarada!” Mr Lateef as he ended the call.

“My son, has she replied to you?” Mama asked Mr Lateef, as she joined the dining room.

“She's not picking my calls, and this useless girl just called me. She said she gave birth." He angrily retorted to his mother who was confused.

“Who gave birth?" She asked because that wasn't their current conversation.

“Fatimah, she gave birth today. Why are these children mine? Why are they choking my existence? I'm finding a solution to get my wife to return home, and she added to my headache with her bad news. God!"

“I sent her to school and she only pays me with pregnancy in return. Now, she gave birth to innocent children. Why did I even marry their mother?" He was boiling with anger, Yewande situation escaped his mind and was disturbed about the news he just heard.

“Fatimah! Ọ gba oyun." Mama shouted.

“Ọ tún bímọ?" She emphasized and nodded her head.

“This is a big no, it can't be. No way, I'll call her." Mr Lateef's mother disagreed and she dialed her number immediately.

“Hello maami." Fatimah greeted the woman warmly, her voice weak.

“Is it true?" The woman asked straight, not acknowledging her greetings.

“Yes ma, I gave birth to twins today." Fatimah replied confidently.

“Haaa, fa ti maaaaaa." Mama shouted and it echoed through the corners of the house.

“Why are you all like your mother? Why are you all useless? You siblings left home all this while and now you're saying you gave birth. You're all heartless and bad luck, do you want to kill my son?" Mama couldn't hide her aggression.

“Mama, I called to share good news and please don't curse us. My siblings are good and we're all fine. I'll be taking some rest now.” She ended the call.

"O dabo ma.”

"Maami, what am I going to do? Mo da ran! I'm in a dilemma. Where are siblings? And now it's her.” Mr Lateef was traumatized.

" Are you deaf or dumb? Can't you hear her? It's like they're all together. You don't need to worry yourself, I'll tell your sister to call her and borrow her sense.” Mama assured him.

"Focus on your wife, beg her if necessary. You can't lose her, she's your only.” Mama emphasized and left for her shop, which was outside the house.

“Ọ gba oyun? LỘ bímọ?"

He couldn't dribble her head from the shocking news she heard.

Two days later…

Mrs Tenigbore is backing one of the twins, while Fatimah just returned from the bathroom. She drained her loose hair and comb, then sip from the hot herb that had been warmed for her.

“You're beautiful. Let's swap our heads." Balkiss complimented, as she helped her drain her hair with a hair dryer.

“I used it to resemble my mum, her hair is long and black too." Fatimah replied, still smiling.

“Muhsinah hair will definitely be long, I'm jealous." Balkiss smiled and everyone smiled.

“Have they gone to school?" Fatimah looked around.

“Faizah has gone to school, Muhammad drove her. And your brother when out, I don't know. He said he wanted to meet someone at the bustop." Mrs Tenigbore replied, still dressing for the second baby.

"Oh! Mummy Basirah! She's out lifesaver. I can't wait to see her.” Fatimah mood brightened.

"Maami, what should I do? My dad is still angry, and my Grandma isn't calling.” Fatimah expressed her worry.

"Don't worry, he'll soon come around. Please focus on yourself for now.” Mrs Tenigbore convinced her.

"I picked this cloth for you. You can start slaying.” Balkiss gingered Fatimah who smiled faintly.

A knock on the door…They're Fatimah's Coursemates with her HOC.

"Iya Ibeji..” HOC hailed as they all entered.

"I'm so happy for you. You're strong!”

"May our bundles of joy be permanent.”

"Eku itoju ma. Ayo wa a dálé.

Her coursemate, seven of them congratulated her, prayed for her and brought her diapers and detergents. They carried the babies and rejoiced with Fatimah. As they felicitate with her, some eyes were glued to her room, they're scanning the aesthetic decor and arrangement. Wardrobe filled with baby essentials, the luxury settings. None of them believe she's living in luxury until they come. Two of them, Titilayo and Tofunmi, are Lamba coursemates.

With everything Lamba told them, they're confused about what they've heard, her family background and how he boosted around saying she'll come to beg him.

"As salaam Alaikum." Muhammad taslim as he knocked on the door.

“Waleykum Salaam." Response from inside her room and the door was opened.

“Wow! We have visitors. Hello, good morning." Muhammad greeted them as he sat on the cushion chair.

“We'll be leaving now." HOC said, trying to excused the family.

“No, have you given them biscuit?" He asked and Balkiss replied.

“Yes, and I'm cutting this fruit for them. They brought us goodies. My babies are lucky, I want to be twins too " Balkiss replied as she set a tray of fruit in their presence.

“Feel at home." Mrs Tenigbore faced the students and left to clean the babies clothes.

“Are they sleeping?" Muhammad asked moving closer to the baby cot.

“Muhsin is playing and Muhsinah is sleeping." Fatimah replied, eyes glued to her system.

"That's my boy.” Muhammad held Muhsin’s tiny finger.

"Have you eaten?" He diverted his gaze at her and she stopped typing but didn't look up.

“Soon, please." She replied, her hand stills dancing on the system

“Soon?" Muhammad asked again and she raised her head.

“I'll eat nah, lemme document this chapter.” Fatimah replied and she smiled.

“Food first." Muhammad replied and pushed the tray of food to her.

Fatimah put a spoon of rice into her mouth and munch, her attention fixed to the system.

“Can you even press your phone three days ago?" Muhammad smiled out.

“Leave my daughter, you think it's easy. Women are stronger than men." Mrs Tenigbore closed muhammad mouth as she entered.

“Did you know he cried? He's crying in his car as you're laboring and crying." Mrs Tenigbore exposed him and he felt embarrassed.

“Wow, he cried? So, you can cry?" Fatimah started laughing.

"Cry? My foot, I'm going. Mummy, must you side her? You're stealing my love.” Muhammad was jealous.

"She's my mum, and I deserve her love.” Fatimah replied and everyone started laughing.

"Thank you, congratulations dear Coursemate. We'll grace the big day together.” Titilayo congratulated her as they stood.

"We appreciate your kind gesture, please be fine and take care of our babies.

“Thank you, I'm so grateful. Help me see them off." Fatimah said to muhammad.

“And you'll give me?” Muhammad asked jokily.

"You'll change the baby diapers.” Fatimah replied in a mouthful of laughter and everyone laughed as they worked out.

"Our coursemate is lucky, I'm jealous.” Tofunmi couldn't hide her joy.

“I'm happy for her, this Lamba must be sick in head. I have a whole lot of gist for him."

“And he said nah him get the baby and she go come back beg am. E don ment." A guy added and they all continued the conversation as they returned to school.

“Hello ma, where are you?" Faruq asked the unknown number on his phone.

“I'm at the junction, bus stop." Yewande replied and he walked down to her destination, hoping to see their neighbor.

“Good morning ma," Faruq greeted her and the woman only smiled. He looked around, trying to see Mummy Basiroh he talked to two days ago.

“Mummy Basirah. Where is she?" He was confused.

“I came alone, we would have come together, but later inShaaAllah.

They got to Fatimah's apartment, and Faruq knocked, then opened the door.

“As salaam Alaikum." Yewande greeted.

“I'm your father's new wife, I got your contact from Mummy Basirah.”Yewande replied and everyone exchanged glances.

“I don't know you." Fatimah replied, her eyes glued at the woman their father just married.

To be continued…

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13/04/2026

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13/04/2026

SCAR

A STORY BY ADEBAYO ROSHEEDAT ABISOLA (RoShBeE)

Chapter Sixteen (16)

Inside the post-delivery ward, the air was warm, heavy, and faintly scented with antiseptic mixed with baby powder. Two tiny cries broke the stillness in soft intervals from the corner where the babies had been placed.

Fatimah lay on the bed, her face pale, hair slightly stuck to her forehead, her lips parted like she was still trying to recover from a battle she didn’t fully understand yet. Tears streamed down her cheeks freely.

Beside her, Mrs Tenigbore sat like a shield that refused to leave her post. Her hands were folded tightly, eyes red from praying too much and blinking too little. She stood by her and intoxicated Fatimah with mother's love she had been denied in the past.

“Èjíré…” She whispered again, and danced in front of Fatimah, pulling her best to make her smile.

Then she smiled through tears, and unexpectedly the tears kept falling freely like an open dam.

“Allah has written it. I never believe I'll become a mother at this age. Can Allah forgive me?” Fatimah talked to herself but audible to the dance happy Mrs Tenigbore hearing.

"Allah sees your pains, remorseful and he'll forgive you. Just embrace Islam well as you embrace it during your pregnancy and beyond now. Don't be a Muslim who only adores Allah when in pain. Pray as you struggle during your pregnancy and keep increasing your knowledge and strength in Islam. Trust me, Allah will never forsake you.” Mrs Tenigbore spoke to her mind, and then wiped her tears.

“Mummy…” Her voice came out weakly.

“The tea is now warm, drink it first. We'll talk when my darling, regain your strength. Please drink the tea finish. Hot amala will be here soon." Mrs Tenigbore stopped her from talking, and she gave her a cup of tea.

"Thank you.” Fatimah appreciated the woman tearily. All she remembered was her mother, the woman who fought hard to survive but died young.

A nurse walked in with a clipboard, adjusting her gloves. She smiled at Fatimah who's gloomy, it's her favorite nurse, nurse Biola.

“What's going on? Cry cry baby." Nurse Biola teased as she removed her gloves.

“Congratulations, new mum,” She celebrated her joyfully.

“You will be moved to your ward. But you still need observation.” Nurse Biola explained. Fatimah nodded slowly, but her eyes drifted, looking around for her babies.

“Where are they? Where are my babies?" Fatimah asked impatiently and nurse Biola smiled at her.

“They'll be brought soon, they're having tests." Nurse Biola hadn't completed her sentences and they heard a cot wailing towards Fatimah's bed.

“M…my babies…” she whispered and just then Muhammad with others entered the ward.

Mrs Tenigbore stood immediately, hands already shaking in gratitude as she prayed over the children with joy written all over her. She hugged Ummu Muslimoh’s and Khadijah, both chanting AlhamduliLlah. And she showered them with prayers and appreciations.

“May Allah grant you both Jannah for all you've done. You're one in a million." Mrs Tenigbore was so grateful.

“Where are my siblings?" Fatimah asked as she looked around.

“They're outside, I'll be leaving soon and they'll enter soon." Muhammad replied and Mrs Tenigbore placed the babies in Fatimah’s laps.

“Ya Allah…make them ambassadors of Islam. Make them the coolness of my eyes and let them be a source to my Jannah." Fatimah mumbled and Muhammad carried one of the babies and called the adhan.

“Allāhu Akbar… Allāhu Akbar…” The words flowed quietly into the baby’s right ear and others in the ward looked in his direction. Despite the calling silent, yet it caught others attention. Even the air seemed to listen.

“Allāhu Akbar… Allāhu Akbar…”

“Ashhadu an lā ilāha illaLlāh…” Fatimah’s eyes filled slowly with tears and Khadijah collected the second baby from her hand.

“Ashhadu anna Muḥammadar Rasūlullāh…”

“Ḥayya ‘alaṣ-ṣalāh…"

Ḥayya ‘alal-falāḥ…”

“Allāhu Akbar… Allāhu Akbar…

Lā ilāha illaLlāh…”

“Muhsinah, Taiwo. He pronounced after the adhan as he placed her in the cot and everyone exchanged shocking glances."

"Muhsin Kenny.” Fatimah added cheerfully as she watched him in her arms.

“You've planned the names?" Khadijah and others were surprised.

"Yes, that's last month. I chose the name because I love Muhsinah and Muhsin and alhamdulillah. Their genders are girl and boy." Fatimah added and handed Muhsin, Kenny to Muhammad who made the same rite for the newborn to them.

He smiled at the baby lightly and then carefully returned the child into the cot. Without a word, he picked up the second baby and observed the same rite.

“Allāhu Akbar… Allāhu Akbar…” The second Adhān began.

“Ashhadu an lā ilāha illaLlāh…”

“Ashhadu anna Muḥammadar Rasūlullāh…”

Khadijah stood at the corner, unusually quiet. Ummu Muslimoh lowered her gaze, no one interrupted, no one moved, no conversation, only his voice filled the space and all attention diverted to them.

“Ḥayya ‘alaṣ-ṣalāh…

Ḥayya ‘alal-falāḥ…”

“Allāhu Akbar… Allāhu Akbar…

Lā ilāha illaLlāh…”

“You need to chew this and use it to rub their upper palates.” Umm Muslimoh Muslimoh brought out dates almost when Muhammad brought his.

"AlhamduliLlah for Islam.” Ummu Muslimoh said.

"Will you perform the TAHNEEK?” Muhammad asked and she nodded, remembering everything he taught her a month to her due date.

A month ago…

“Princess Fatimah." Muhammad called jokingly as he opened the car door for her.

She just finished her last paper, Fatimah looked tired and stressed out. She felt like collapsing. Khadijah, her friend, is still in the hall, while she sat under a concrete chair calming with the fresh air.

Lamba passed and with friends, they started laughing, which caught her attention and she raised her head, then hissed.

That has been his way to make her give up on him, Lamba would pass by her side and make her life difficult for that moment. He'll pay attention and walk in the direction she was to show off with another lady by side. He would throw shades. All his tantrums always fell on her deaf ear as Fatimah had forgotten and moved on with her life.

“Princess!" Muhammad voice played in the air and she traced the direction and saw Muhammad’s car.

With joy, she stood and walked towards him. Lamba hasn't taken a long step away from her. Fatimah's smile awakened as he opened the car door for her.

"You looked depressed and sad.” Muhammad started.

"Your paper?” He asked.

"No, I ace it. And alhamdulillah, it's so simple.” Fatimah joyfully expressed.

"This is the Fatimah I always want to see." Muhammad teased and he brought out some junk he got her.

“I got your favorites.”

"Thank you, how I wish you're the father of my children.” Fatimah expressed sadly as he watched Lamba with his friends through the rear glass.

“Do you want me to be?” Muhammad asked and Fatimah quickly looked away.

"It's not late. Don't worry, I won't rush you. I'll wait till you finish your studies.” Muhammad promised and Fatimah didn't say a word.

“Princess, you need to increase yourself in worship as your delivery is a month away. And AlhamduliLlah, you finished your last paper already.” Muhammad started and she nodded like a baby.

“This stage…You’re about to bring life into the world. You need Allah more than ever now.”

“Talk to Him often. Even when you’re tired. Even when you don’t feel like it.”He emphasized and Fatimah swallowed slowly.

“What should I be saying?” She asked because she didn't know.

“When the pain starts… or even now, say this dua ‘Rabbi yassir wa lā tu’assir, wa tammim bil khayr.’
(O my Lord, make it easy and do not make it difficult, and complete it with goodness.)

“Rabbi yassir… wa lā tu’assir…” Fatimah repeated it slowly after him.

“And memorize this too… ‘Allāhumma lā sahla illā mā ja‘altahu sahlā, wa anta taj‘alu al-ḥazna idhā shi’ta sahlā.’ (O Allah, nothing is easy except what You make easy, and You can make what is difficult easy if You will.)

“And when you don’t know what to say…”. Muhammad continued, while she gave him her full attention.

“Just remember Allah.” He counted on his fingers slowly.

“Say Subḥānallāh… Alḥamdulillāh… Allāhu Akbar…”

Fatimah smiled faintly, she joined him in rhythm as he recited the Dua.

“I know these well." She applauded herself.

"About the babies, what name do you want them to be called?

“Muhsin was Muhsinah." She replied cheerfully and he prayed.

“May Allah make them ambassadors of Islam.

"inShaaAllah, mummy will enlighten you more.”

Fatimah collected the dates and chewed, she used it to rub their upper palate and the baby was put in the cot.

“Please take care, inshaAllah I'll check on you later." Muhammad left and greeted everyone.

For a moment, the entire ward seemed to forget their own pain, all eyes focused on her. Even the woman still in labour stared from her bed.

“God…” She whispered.

“So people really survive this thing?”

A nurse smiled slightly while adjusting the drip of another patient.

“See her stature, very young."

“Allahu Akbar."

“It's not by stature. See how big the babies are.”

" Congratulations.”

" May the joy be permanent.”

" I'm so happy for you.”

" Thank you, may Allah grant all our prayers.” Fatimah appreciated everyone in the ward and Ummu Muslimoh distributed biscuits.

“Aunty mhi, Ibeji?" Fiazah hugged Fatimah as she entered.

“Alhamdulillah robil al-ameen." Faruq expressed his gratitude.

“I'm so happy for you. You're now a mummy, mothering your own children. Allah is great." Faruq added joyfully.

"You can now call Dad and tell him I have given birth.” Fatimah told his brother and everyone around her were surprised.

“Haa, are you sure about this?" Khadijah asked and Fatimah affirmed her stand.

“He can't kill me, he has ignored us and the best is to give him regards as our father." Fatimah affirmed her words.

“My daughter, I love your boldness. Yes, call him and share the good news.” Mrs Tenigbore supported her notion.

Khadijah had shared the good news in their department group and everyone was congratulating Fatimah already. “FATIMAH, THE PREGGY LADY IN OUR DEPARTMENT DELIVERS TWINS?!”

“Wait… THAT Fatimah?”

“She was pregnant all along??”

“No way… she was just in class last week!”

“She gave birth o!”

“With twins!”

“Ahh… life no balance at all.”

One girl shook her head.

“But who is the father?” One of her Coursemates typed and everyone started replying to her comment.

“That's true."

“She didn't do wedding nah?"

“What if it's done low key?"

" So, those Alhaja nah baddies.”

" This is her husband, he always brings her to class and take her home.”

" Yes, I usually see this car under the tree. So, nah her husband? Wow! She get luck ooo

“That Alhaja nah low-key nah, you don't know?”

"But she's Lamba ex.”

" Really?
Rumors from her department, campus filled the atmosphere and everyone was surprised.

Lamba sat outside a shop, staring at his phone like it had betrayed him. The news had hit him like a slap and some of his friends were calling already.

“Fatimah gave birth to twins? My babies?" He whispered to himself, but fear shivered through his veins.

“Fatimah gave birth?"

“When did she get pregnant, when did she get married?"

“To twins? And I'm just knowing?" Mr Lateef couldn't believe his hearing till the call got disconnected.

“Princess, Iya Ibeji, you are not done with the hospital yet. We would have discharged you today as there is nothing wrong with you and your children. But you must get the rhogam injection tomorrow.” Nurse Biola explained.

" By this time tomorrow, you'll be back home and sleeping well. You have a good mother-in-law." The matron added and Fatimah smiled. Her phone rings… It's her father.

"As salaam alaikum sir.” Fatimah greeted but the man yelled at her.

"You this unfortunate girl!” The man shouted.

"As salaam alaikum sir.” Fatimah ended the call intentionally.

To be continued…

Don't be stingy to engage 💜

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RoShBeE loves y'all 💜

12/04/2026

CS or vaginal delivery... None is easy! May Allah grant us safe delivery.

12/04/2026

SCAR

A STORY BY ADEBAYO ROSHEEDAT ABISOLA (RoShBeE)

Chapter Fifteen (15)

The morning light slipped lazily through the half-open window, resting on the cracked wall like it had no business being there. The house was awake but it didn’t feel alive.

From the kitchen came the faint smell of soaked garri and yesterday’s stew reheated on low flame. The compound outside buzzed with distant voices
neighbors, hawkers, normal life, cars and bikes driving down the street.

Mama sat on the old wooden chair in the sitting room, legs stretched forward, a small local hand fan moving back and forth in slow irritation. Her lips moved constantly, muttering complaints that had no audience but still demanded attention.

Her eyes followed Yewande the moment she stepped out of the room. Yewande looked calm, composed and dressed in a simple fitted gown, her laptop tucked under her arm, phone pressed between her fingers like she had somewhere more important to be.

“Mama, good morning.” She said respectfully, bending as she greeted her.

But Mama didn’t respond, instead she hissed aloud and clapped her hand in irritation.

“There is nothing good about the morning, I've always told you” She replied sharply, her voice dry like sand.

Yewande paused and looked at the old woman, lost in thought about what happened again. She stopped standing before her and bent a little, trying to figure out what had happened to the woman again.

“What happened, Mama?” She asked, her brows slightly raised, like she already knew where this was going.

Mama leaned forward, placing the fan on her lap and smirked.

“What happened? Are you asking me?” She echoed, her lips curling.

“Your madness happened.” She almost spit at Yewande who quickly stood up.

“You locked the kitchen like I am a stranger.” Mama continued, her voice rising gradually.

“In my son’s house! Who are you!” She shouted on top of her voice trying to catch her son's attention.

“Mama, I locked my kitchen, not yours ooo.” She corrected softly.

“Not yours at all, but MINE.” She emphasized calmly, trying not to be rude to the woman.

“Mo gbe!” Mama clapped loudly, the sound echoing through the room and unexpectedly, a slap landed on Yewande's cheek.

“Paaa." Yewande retaliated without letting it cool.

"You slapped me? Mogbe oooo, ọti f'omi leti ooo.” Mama cried out holding her cheeks and at that moment, Mr Lateef stepped in.

He's dressed neatly, ready to go to work but stopped with the ongoing drama.

“What is it again, Mama?” He asked, not looking at anyone in particular.

Mama turned dramatically and pointed at Yewande.

“Ask your wife! She slapped me again.” She snapped.

“Ask her what she did to me yesterday!”

“And now she slapped me."

“Just because I'm teaching my daughter home training."

Yewande didn’t wait to be questioned and she smiled.

“I told Mama I’m not her maid.” She started.

"And she's disturbing my peace throughout, the same this morning. She started again despite my politeness. And unexpectedly she slapped me and I returned the slap. Even my parents never raise their hands on me." Yewande explained without lying.

“You slapped maami?" Mr Lateef asked, picking from her words and Mama nodded, shedding crocodile tears.

“Yes ooo, she slapped me ooo. O na mi (she beats me?" Mama cried like a bereaved.

“Paaa.”Yewande’s cheeks sounded from the slap from her husband, Mr Lateef.

“Paaa,paaa." Yewande returned the slap in twos and walked out of the two.

“If any of you come for me, I'll give you in folds.” Yewande stopped halfway. Entered her room and slammed the door.

“Mama…” He started, touching his cheeks.

“No!” she cut in angrily.

“Don’t ‘Mama’ me. See what you married, she slapped me and then you." Mama shouted.

Mr Lateef was shocked and speechless, she couldn't play everything that just happened and stood dumb.

"Yesterday, she locked the kitchen, tomorrow she will lock your destiny!” Mama voices echoed through the house.

Yewande stood on the bed, she massaged her cheeks and wondered which kind of family she married too. Her family doesn't want him to marry him, yet she goes ahead because she loved him so much and they've been in love in Dubai before she travelled home and still settle with the deported man she loved wholeheartedly.

“He slapped me?" Yewande played his slaps on his head. And without giving him an excuse, she made a call on her phone, which ended shortly

“My children must return back to this house. She'll leave this house for them.” Mama shouted and Mr Lateef quickly covered his mother's mouth.

" Mum, don't do this for me, I'll beg her. Don't worsen the situation. Don't even talk about my children, do you want to ruin me?” Mr Lateef asked his mother, who was muttering

“At least those children used to be useful, and their mother has never raised her voice at me.” She added, almost absentmindedly.

Mr Lateef sat on the edge of the chair, his phone resting in his palm, his thumb hovering over a name he had memorized without trying. As his mother talked about his children, his mind diverted to them and he decided to call Faruq's number.

He stared at it for a long time. Like dialing it would unlock something he wasn’t ready for. Then he pressed it and the phone rang.

“Hello.” His back straightened instantly.

“Faruq…” He said, almost too quickly.

“We’re fine, sir.”

“Where are you?” Mr Lateef asked, his tone sound disturbed.

“We’re fine,” Faruq repeated, trying to protect their peace.

“That wasn’t an answer. I asked you…”

“We’re not coming back,” Faruq cut in.

“You think you can just leave the…” He couldn't complete the statement as the door opened.

Yewande stepped out, adjusting her earring, she looked like someone going out

“Are you not going to work?” She asked casually.

“Alright… be fine,” He said into the phone, his voice shaking.

“Call me if necessary.”

“I'll be leaving now." He replied and Yewande walked out of the house.

“Mo daran, what is this?" Mr Lateef shouted after reading an email that just entered on his phone.

“My car key?" Yewande requested as she reentered the house.

“I'm sacked." Mr Lateef cried out, but Yewande collected her car key and left.

“Modaran…” His voice echoed in the house.

"You've married calamity with your hand. Bad luck is this woman. Sack for the new job you just secured. See your boss first, it must be a misunderstanding.”

The sharp smell of antiseptic mixed with sweat and childbirth clinging stubbornly to the nose. The fluorescent lights above flickered slightly, casting a harsh white glow that made every movement feel too real.

Beds were lined side by side, separated by thin curtains that did little to hide anything. Nothing was private nor calm as it's filled with women in labor.

A woman on the far bed gripped the metal rail so tightly her veins stood out against her skin.

“Ya Allah! I can’t do this!” She screamed, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face.

“Breathe!” A nurse snapped, moving quickly to her side.

“I’m tired!” The woman cried, shaking her head violently.

“It’s too much! I'll not do this again.” On another bed, a younger girl whimpered softly, her lips trembling.

“Mummy…pray for me” she called weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I want my mum…” An older woman beside her, probably her mother, held her hand tightly.

“I’m here, I’m here,” She said, her voice trembling despite her effort to stay strong.

“Just push when they tell you, ehn? Don’t be scared.”

A sudden sharp cry cut through the room.

“Doctor! Doctor!” A nurse called urgently from the other side.

The doctor walked in briskly, gloves already on, his expression focused on the women in labor.

“Who is crowning?” He asked the nurses who are with each patient.

“This one, sir! She fully dilated" One of the nurses pointed.

“Help her into the labor room," the doctor instructed and checked the woman next.

In the labor room…

“Madam, listen to me,” He said, his voice controlled but loud enough to cut through her panic.

“When I say push, you push. If you don’t cooperate, you’ll stress the baby. Do you understand?” The doctor patted her shoulder tenderly and she nodded weakly, sweat dripping down her face.

“Yes… yes…”

“Good. Now breathe.” Another contraction hit and her body arched.

“Push!”

“I can’t!” She screamed which echoed in the whole ward.

“You can!” The doctor fired back sharply.

“This is not the time to give up! Push the baby out.” The doctor said and she pushed with her strength and the baby came out healthy.

“Ya Allah, make it easy for her…” One woman muttered repeatedly, as she walked up and down.

“Astaghfirullah… Astaghfirullah…” Another chanted under her breath, her fingers clutching her scarf tightly.

“Water… please…” One of the women in labor begged weakly.

“No water now!” A nurse responded quickly.

Fatimah was wheeled in at that moment. The sounds hit her first and she forgot her own pain
Then the sight of a woman crying, her facial expression was scary and just immediately, she felt heavy contractions and started shouting.

“Ya Allah." Her eyes widened in pain.

"Sorry my daughter, our bundles of joy are here.” Mrs Tenigbore calmed her but Fatimah lost her composure and started yelling in sharp contractions.

“I can’t…” She whispered immediately, her fingers tightening around the bed as they transferred her.

“You can,” A nurse said, persuaded, adjusting her position.

“First baby?” The nurse asked and Fatimah nodded weakly. The nurse sighed slightly.

“Alright… listen carefully. This is not a place to panic. Do as we say and you’ll be fine.”

“Lailaaaaaa" Fatimah screamed.

She's forty-one weeks old, her body has stretched, endured, and waited. She declined the doctor's suggestion for thirty-seven months and kept pushing, hoping for labor to come.

“Elective CS will be safer,” The doctor advised but she shook her head immediately.

“No. I prefer vaginal delivery." Fatimah replied.

“With twin gestation? And you're a first timer and you look fragile. I'll recommend elective CS for the safety of the mother and the babies." The Doctor emphasized his word and Fatimah to Mrs Tenigbore turned immediately, she'd been following her for checkups.

“Mummy, please pray for me. I don't want CS." Fatimah said as they walked out of the doctor's office.

"Allaaaaahh.” Fatimah screamed and her water broke, which followed with one of the babies out.

" Labor room.” One of the nurses shouted, but it was too late as the second baby was close.

Doctors work hand in hand the first baby was given to the nurse for cleanup while they brought out the second baby.

" Scissors.” One of the second doctors requested and the second baby was given to the nurse."

“Document her record immediately." The doctor instructed a standing nurse.

“Alhamdulillah, Mrs Tenigbore went to sujudul shukr.

"Allah did it! Fatimah did it.” The woman wasn't allowed to touch her nor the babies.

Fatimah was cleaned up and was transferred to a neatly dressed bed.

" Alhamdulillah, Mrs Tenigbore muttered repeatedly as they awaited the babies to be given to them.

" Mummy.” Fatimah called weakly."

“My daughter, Alhamdulillah. Èjíré ti dé." The woman replied to her and tears wailed down Fatimah's eyes.

To be continued...

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