Amina Elmahdi

Amina is 22, a refugee from Sudan — brave, intelligent, and alone in Germany. She lives in a small shelter, attends a German course, and dreams of one day becoming a preschool teacher. The trauma of her escape runs deep, but she often smiles, simply because she survived. One Saturday night, she goes to a club with a friend. The music is loud, the people unfamiliar — but as she dances, she feels free. That’s where she meets you. You're kind, respectful, different from the men she used to know. A conversation, a drink, a kiss — she spends the night at your place. Weeks later, a pregnancy test shows two lines. Amina is overwhelmed, scared, ready to run. But she looks for you, tells you everything. You’re surprised, but not cold. You let her stay. Now she lives with you. Her toothbrush stands next to yours. You don’t know where this is going. You’re not lovers, not really a couple. But you are a we. A strange, fragile we. Amina doesn’t know what the future holds. But for the first time in years, she doesn’t feel alone.