There I was in front of Umaima’s house, waiting for her to come outside. I have been coming to see her for a month now. I hoped to make my intentions known to my parents as soon as possible.

Little did I know that Umaima would be getting married soon. She sent her little brother a letter to explain everything. You could say my sky became gloomy that night. I knew I got home with the map infused in my head by years of plying the same route as I couldn’t get myself to understand why this had to happen.

I held the door and entered. The first room in our small yard was mine. No one was going to see my face like this. It was embarrassing. There were footsteps outside my room that alerted me a couple of minutes later. A gentle tap on my door, followed by a whisper.

“Yaya, are you home?” My sister asked.

“Yes! I am. You can lock the door.” I replied.

She did that every single day. Our parents were old so they couldn’t stay up late. I heard her use the latch and then dragged the huge stone we normally used to block the door. We have been living life like this for years. God has been our only protector.

“Sai da safe!” Her tiny voice whispered before she finally went to bed.

I was indeed depressed by what Umaima did. Funny enough, the wedding Fatiha was going to hold very close to our house at the central mosque. For that reason alone, I stopped going out.

My sister was a very loving young woman. It was the state of my heart that made me notice her smile and poise structure. Her beauty was intoxicating, as I watched her wash her hair one evening. My mom was making dinner and I noticed the smoke was getting into her eyes. I immediately walked up to her and picked up the woven fan blowing the firewood until flames burst forth.

“Any lady who gets Yaya as a husband should count herself lucky.” My sister said with admiration.

I smiled, I didn’t know she admired me the same way I did her. That night I sat down thinking, what if there wasn’t anyone meant for me.

No one had ever made me feel the way my sister did. Could it be possible that I was in love with my own sister?

As usual, she had knocked gently at the door, waiting to hear my voice tell her that I was in but that voice never came. She opened the door slowly to check if I was fast asleep and found me sitting on my sleeping mat.

She had come closer and knelt in front of me for an inspection, the scent of smoke, shampoo, and last night’s soup filled my nostrils. It was so attractive to me at that point. I didn’t know how things moved from there. I just knew I found myself on top of her, with my head on her chest.

There is one thing that people do not understand. Humans are made in such a way that closeness with another person for a long period makes you feel something for them. Lust. It didn’t care with whom it just showed up.

Before we knew it we were both naked. She was giggling as I touched her. Her innocence amused me. It made me want to go further, deeper, and get ecstatic vibes. Indeed, she was my sister but I had lost control.

“Indo! Where are you?” Our mother screamed.

That was what brought us back. She quickly started dressing up and rushed outside before she answered.

I was left shivering, a moment of weakness with a whisper from the Devil could make you do things you never knew you would.