Chapter 4: The Veil and the Warning

Soon, na first of the month again. Time to serve young master.

My stomach tight since morning. I dey count minutes, dey pray make wahala no come.

When Mama Ifeoma send person to come prepare me, she hiss: "Na real cheap skin. Slap never finish for your face, but since you dey cover am, nobody go see."

Her laughter dry. She fit slap you, then tell you to kneel for ground. I just dey thank God say na only once or twice a month dem dey call me.

"You better behave today. If you try any rubbish to dey seduce young master again, na your life go spoil!"

She wave broom for my head, her eye dey red. For Okoye house, rumour dey fly like mosquito.

I just bend my eye, collect her warning, no even try argue.

For this house, talk back na invitation for double slap. I just hold my peace.

How I go seduce am? For this Okoye house, I dey use all my energy just to survive. But nobody go believe. Because my body fine, dem don tag me as ashawo, temptress.

For village, dem talk say fine girl dey suffer pass. For Okoye house, na true.

When we dey alone, young master come ask:

His voice soft, almost like breeze for evening. He never shout for me before. His eyes dey search my face, but I dey look ground.

"That day—that handkerchief, na you sew am?"

I dey hold my breath. My finger dey twist my wrapper. I dey think whether to talk true or lie.

Of course na my handiwork. When I get free time for Okoye house, I dey sew small-small things for myself. I no even sew plenty, just small waterleaf for one corner.

Na only that waterleaf dey remind me of my mama farm—green, soft, always fresh after rain.

My mind blank, I no sabi wetin to talk. I just lie: "No... no, na Halima, the rough maid for backyard, sew am..."

My heart dey jump. I dey pray make e no ask again. For this house, one wrong word fit land me for kneel again.

Even if young master wan know, e no go lower himself go ask rough maid, abi?

He laugh small, but his eye sharp. I dey shake, but I hide am with cough.

The man gentle eye come red small, he talk soft: "Halima?"

He repeat the name, his voice slow. I fit feel my heart dey run from chest.

His voice soft, but e get small confusion inside. My body shake, I turn face, no fit look am. Halima na my old name. Now, by mistake, he don hear am.

That name, I no dey use am for Okoye house. Now, e don leak. Shame dey bite me.

Shame catch me. Nnamdi Okoye eye deep.

His eyes dey ask plenty question, but my mouth lock. For my mind, I dey beg make spirit cover my shame.

Under the swaying waterleaf, my mind waka go childhood stream. I dey inside wooden basin, dey pick waterleaf seed, my mama dey shout me from the small house say food don ready. That time, life soft. I no know say my life go turn like this. So peaceful, so sweet.

For my mind, I dey hear mama voice: "Halima! No stay long for water o!" My finger dey taste the cold water, my laugh dey pure. For Okoye house, only memory dey give me joy.

I lost for dream, like say I dey sleep.

Time freeze, my spirit waka go home. My eye dey wet.

Suddenly, my face cold, I wake up sharp. I rush cover the veil for my face.

Reality land like thunder. I hold the veil tight, my body dey shake.

"No... young master... you go die..."

My voice crack. I dey beg. I dey fear wetin I no fit explain.

Nnamdi Okoye just think say na play I dey play. He laugh small for my neck: "True, I feel like say I don die hundred times."

His laughter soft, almost like person wey dey hide pain. I fit smell palm wine for his breath.

But next moment, he hold my hand for bed. "Make I see the real waterleaf face wey you get—na so dem dey talk say you fine?"

His grip soft, but my heart dey race. He dey tease me, but his eye dey serious.

His voice soft, teasing, dey tempt me.

His finger dey draw circle for my wrist. I dey tremble, but my heart dey jump. For that small space, na only us, na only the lamp dey watch.

My heart dey pound like masquerade drum, sweat dey break for my back, old warning dey flash for my head: 'No let them see your real face—trouble go land.'

Before I fit move, he tear the veil from my face.

The cloth scatter, my hair fall loose. I shout, but light flash, sound burst—like thunder clap for roof. My whole body freeze. The night change, wahala don land.

My secret scatter for air—no hiding again.