Chapter 5: Healing and Release

When I open eye, I see Adeyemi ceiling, smell of camphor and hibiscus full my nose. Head dey pain me, but at least I dey alive.

Papa face full anger as he dey push medicine give me.

He glare the bitter bowl, then glare me, “Drink, Sade. I no go let dem finish my only pikin.”

I calm am, “No worry, Papa. Nothing go do me.”

Zainab don chop punishment already.

Word don waka fast. Governor shame, quick quick discipline reach.

Papa no marry another wife, fear make I no suffer for another woman hand.

After Mama die, he no gree all the pressure—no stepmother wahala for me.

But see as small mistake, na Zainab wey suppose be padi dey bully me.

Papa eye red with regret. “All this trouble, na pikin wey suppose be your friend dey do you. God go judge.”

He kneel for main hall, demand justice for me.

Neighbours gather, tongue dey wag. Papa thunder, “My daughter nearly die because of your pikin! Na so your family dey behave?”

Governor face dark pass charcoal.

He dey look ground, hand tight. Even chief wives dey avoid him eye.

But power no fit cover this one.

Elders dey murmur, “Power no be license to do anyhow.” Women for kitchen dey nod.

Zainab must copy Bible verse, come our house apologize.

She dey write ‘Love thy neighbour’ hundred times—everybody hear say peacock don humble for handwriting.

But since I wake, she never show face.

Not even one step, no apology. Even the dog for compound dey bark every shadow, but Zainab shadow no cross our gate.

With her pride, she fit no ever come.

Daughter of power no dey bow anyhow. I even pity her small.

I no send.

My heart don strong. I no dey look for sorry wey no go ever come.

But person wey I no expect, send card come.

Gatekeeper shuffle in, bow, “Madam, na Halima dey outside. He say he wan see you.”

I wonder—why Halima wey dey dodge me before dey show now? I allow am enter.

I arrange my wrapper, sit up. Mind dey run, face dey calm.

Halima stand for compound, dey look me from far, no enter my room.

He stand under old palm, agbada neat, hand for back. The space between us wide reach River Niger.

Him presence mix with palm tree—like painting for harmattan morning.

Even bird quiet as he talk, voice steady, eye empty.

He talk formal: “Aunty Sade, I come today to apologize for Zainab.”

Voice stiff, word dry. No emotion for eye.

“She still small, just dey spoil, she no mean harm.”

He pause, wait for me to argue. I just lock up.

“All the maid for shore sabi swim, no real danger…”

He wan reduce the thing, like say near-die na small matter. My jaw tight, I let am finish.

Zainab just clock sixteen, five year junior to us.

Last life, age no be barrier. Now, e be like gap wey no fit cross.

But all his talk dey empty.

Voice echo for quiet compound, like cracked drum.

I start to cough—deep, body dey shake. Medicine bowl dey rattle. For one second, I see old Halima flash—concern for eye, then e vanish.

He look my pale face, worry show, then hide quick.

He add, “Zainab send for two doctors. Dem go reach today.”

Tone brisk, businesslike. I nod, no look his face.

Halima poor before, now almost chief. Papa help, but his own hand strong.

People always talk, "Na God run am for am." But I sabi say Halima sharp, careful, even get small wickedness for corner.

He too calm, too careful, no let anybody see his weak point.

Now, he dey use am for me.

If I argue, dem go say I dey petty.

See am? Na the same trick he use.

I smile, bitterness for tongue.

I just smile. “No wahala. Luckily, person save me.”

I look for his face, he no shake.

“It just be say I never know who the person be. Halima, you fit tell me?”

Small flash—anger, regret, maybe jealousy—quick show, then disappear.

That person wey save me vanish—only people wey dey there know.

I let the question hang for air.

Halima face change, voice cold:

Eye narrow, mouth tight. “I no save you that day straight so I fit protect your name.”

“To talk true, I don ready marry Zainab.”

The word drop heavy, no going back.

So, no rescue because of suspicion.

He dey tell me—no space for me for his new life.

He draw line for sand, make I no cross am.

My finger shake, even as I prepare, pain still bite.

But na just small time.

I let pain pass, like wind for hill—sharp but short.

“Aunty Sade never marry. That brave person no wan leave him name for the same reason.”

He talk am soft, but e mean say my presence dey cause wahala.

He talk as if, whoever save me, I go begin chase am.

His pride pain me pass any insult from Zainab.

He dey fear to marry me, so he believe others go fear too.

How small pride dey make person.

Halima no know say me too get second chance.

He think say I still be old Sade—dey wait, dey hope, blind to his rejection.

All I do na just because I admire am.

I love am, yes—but I no be beggar. Not for this life.

As I keep quiet, Halima pause, voice soft:

Voice drop, small gentle. “Aunty Sade, I wish you quick recovery and better marriage.”

Eye linger, word heavy.

I see regret, but I no get tears for am again.

I understand.

I see the door close, final.

He dey tell me—

For this life, make I no disturb am again.

I smile, sharp. "No wahala. God go help all of us."

I laugh small. “Thank you for your kind wish, Halima. I don even see person sef.”

For the first time, Halima face crack. Eye wide, mouth open small—silent question hang for air.

He stand, shock, like ground shift under am. For once, na me hold power for that space between us. And for the first time, I no fear tomorrow.