1

Aleena sat curled beneath her blanket, her school uniform still hanging neatly on the chair beside her bed. The morning sun slipped gently through the thin blue curtain, painting her room in soft gold, yet she felt only a heavy darkness pressing on her chest. Her stomach ached sharply, twisting inside her like a cruel knot. She clutched the edge of the duvet tighter, tears slipping quietly down her cheeks.

"Aleena, why are you crying?" Akram's voice broke the silence as he stepped into her room. "Is everything okay? You've been on the bed since—stand up, we'll be late for school."

He moved closer, confusion and worry blending on his face. The moment he saw her, his heart tightened—his little sister, usually full of laughter and stubborn energy, now trembling like a frightened child.

"Why are you scared? Did you have a bad dream?" he asked softly, sitting by the edge of her bed.

She shook her head, voice small and shaky. "No... I'm just... having a very painful stomach pain."

Akram frowned. "Can you go to school? Is it that painful?" He hated seeing her like this. To him, Aleena wasn't just his sister—she was almost like a daughter, ever since their mother died three years ago.

"It's very painful," she whispered, her body shaking slightly.

He sighed, rubbing his palm gently over her hair. "Okay, the water is hot already. Let me help you up, take a shower, then I'll take you to the hospital, okay?"

When he pulled the blanket away, he froze. A dark red stain spread across the bedsheet. For a moment, he just stared, realization dawning slowly. Then a quiet understanding filled his eyes.

Ahh... so this is it. His little sister was becoming a woman. No wonder she was scared—she probably had no idea what was happening to her.

He softened his tone. "Aleena, get up," he said gently, helping her sit up.

The moment she saw the blood, she gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. "Yaya... I didn't do anything," she cried. "I don't know why I'm bleeding. Wallahi, I've never allowed any boy to touch me. Even when they try at school, I always run away."

Akram's jaw tightened. Boys try to touch her? His chest burned with protectiveness.

"Boys try to touch you?" he asked, trying to stay calm.

She lowered her gaze, guilt and fear mixing in her big brown eyes. "Yes."

"And you never told me?" His voice was controlled, but she could sense the anger beneath it.

She said nothing, staring at the tiled floor.

He sighed deeply. Now isn't the time. "Didn't they teach you about... you know, maturing... in school?"

She shook her head. "No."

"Okay," he said softly. "Go and take your bath first. Then I'll explain everything to you."

He helped her into the bathroom, turned on the tap, and mixed the warm and cold water for her. As he did, memories of their mother flashed through his mind—how she used to take care of Aleena's hair before school, how her gentle hands had once calmed his own fears. Now, he had to do all that alone.

When Aleena came out of the bathroom, she looked pale but calmer. Akram was waiting with a new sanitary pad in his hand. He had secretly bought them months ago, after reading online about puberty in girls. He'd wanted to be ready—he knew no woman in the house would be there to guide her.

Aleena looked at the pad in confusion. "Yaya... what's that?"

"This?" He cleared his throat, feeling awkward. "It's called a sanitary pad. You'll use it when you're bleeding like this."

Her eyes widened. "Me? But... why?"

He smiled softly, though it felt strange explaining it. "Because you're now a big girl. It will happen every month. It's part of how Allah created women."

She frowned. "Every month? Why?"

"Bana ce zan maki bayani ba? (Didn't I say I'll explain later?)" He forced a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood. "Now, where are your panties?"

Aleena's cheeks flushed pink. "Yaya Akram! Why are you asking that?" she said, pouting.

He chuckled, even though he felt shy too. "Come on, Aleena. I need to teach you how to use this properly."

Reluctantly, she pointed toward her wardrobe. He found one of her small blue panties, smiled faintly, and said, "I'll buy you new ones. From now on, some will be for your period only, the rest for when you're clean. Kinji? (you hear)" 

She nodded silently.

He showed her how to fix the pad, his voice soft but steady. She watched with innocent curiosity, her stomach still twisting in pain.

When they were done, Akram went to the kitchen. The sound of boiling water and the faint smell of Indomie filled the small flat. Kano mornings were always alive outside—the distant call of the mai shayi by the corner, children laughing on their way to school, and the faint hum of traffic drifting in through the window.

He returned to her room with a cup of hot tea and a small plate of noodles. "Aleena, drink this. It'll help with the pain." He searched online for tea that causes less menstrual pain and made it. 

"I don't want to take anything," she whimpered, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Haba, Aleena. Try, please. Kinji? You'll feel better."

He lifted her gently, held the cup to her lips. She sipped a little, wincing from the heat. He watched her, heart aching but proud—his baby sister was growing.

After she lay down again, he quietly went to wash her stained nightgown and underwear. When he came back, she was asleep, her face peaceful at last. He smiled faintly, adjusting the duvet over her.

"My baby sister... now a woman," he whispered. "But when she wakes up, she'll tell me who those boys are. I swear, they won't try it again."

He sat on the couch, opened his laptop, and the glow of the crypto charts reflected on his calm face. Outside, the sound of cars and children floated through the air, soft and steady, as the city of Kano began another day.