My Mother-In-Law Called Me Murderer / Chapter 2: The Weight of Ten Minutes
My Mother-In-Law Called Me Murderer

My Mother-In-Law Called Me Murderer

Author: Cameron Lambert


Chapter 2: The Weight of Ten Minutes

That day na just one normal Saturday for end of rainy season.

For Lagos, after rain fall finish, everywhere dey fresh, but sun dey quick show face. I fit remember the smell of wet earth that morning, children dey run for corridor, market woman dey shout for gate. E be like say world dey normal, no bad sign anywhere.

Abubakar work late the previous night, so e wake up late, na around 10 a.m. e manage chop breakfast.

He no dey quick tire, but that Friday, na one stubborn client keep am for office sotay sleep wan finish am for steering. As he chop bread and egg with Nescafé, he dey rub him eyes, still dey yarn me about how traffic nearly wound am for Third Mainland. I just dey nod, dey beg make e rest.

By 10:05, my daughter Kamsi don dey disturb me for the eighth time say make we go downstairs.

You know how pikin dey be, energy full her body. She go dance, jump, even carry my scarf dey use as cape. Neighbours for corridor don tire for her wahala, but she no dey send. Me, I dey tie wrapper, dey pray make she use small patience.

As I squat for door dey tie Kamsi shoe, she dey shake head dey make face for her papa.

The way Kamsi dey bend face, dey poke tongue, I just dey laugh. She sabi her papa weak point. If to say dem dey give award for stubbornness, na she go collect am for her class.

"Daddy, see as you dey form big man, but na only sleep you sabi! Sun dey roast your yansh, you no dey shame?"

She talk am loud, come clap hands. Neighbours wey pass corridor begin laugh. Abubakar just look her with side-eye, pretend say e wan catch her, but she quick dodge. Kamsi na real Lagos pikin—sharp mouth, sharp leg.

Abubakar just laugh low, come mimic her, dey make same face.

"Kamsi, you sef na stubborn pikin, every time na your mama you wan follow play downstairs. Kamsi, shame catch you too!"

He drag her ear small, but she just giggle run hide behind me. Na so dem dey play every morning, their own special wahala.

I rush carry water bottle and tissue, as I open door, I remember something, turn back tell am:

"Honey, Kamsi go sweat scatter today again. Abeg, start dey run the bath early, so she go fit baff as soon as we come back."

I dey always like make Kamsi baff sharp after play, before malaria wahala. The way I talk, you go think say I be nurse. Abubakar just smile, dey reason my wahala.

That bathtub dey slow to fill—every time na about twenty minutes e dey take.

E get one old plumber wey say make we change the pipe, I no gree. Now, see as slow water wan spoil person plan. Everytime I dey calculate, dey try arrange everything before Abubakar go work or before hunger catch Kamsi.

Abubakar hold bread for one hand, the other hand salute me for temple with two fingers.

"No worry, my wife. I go do am sharp sharp."

He dey act like soldier sometimes, dey salute anyhow. E dey sweet my belle, but I dey pretend say I dey vex. Na our small play.

I just roll my eyes for am.

"Make we dey go."

As I dey drag Kamsi hand, my mind dey race. I dey check say nothing lost, dey listen for Abubakar voice. Sometimes, I dey forget say happiness fit disappear sharp, just like that.

The slide just dey downstairs, na the most lively place for compound. Children dey run up and down, parents gather dey gist.

You go hear Yoruba, Hausa, Igbo, even small Pidgin—all dey mix for that slide. Some children dey drag toy, some dey cry, some dey share biscuit. Parents dey form small circle, dey talk, dey monitor eye for pikin, but dey mind their own. Na there you go hear all the latest news for the compound, even before e reach WhatsApp group.

After I sit with some mothers wey I sabi, I reach pocket come realize say I forget my phone for house. I ask Halima’s mama wey dey near me.

My mind jump as I remember. That phone na my life, all my market list, even Kamsi cartoon dey inside. As I ask Halima’s mama, I dey pray make time never pass.

"Abeg, wetin be the time? I forget my phone for house."

Halima’s mama, wey dey find chance show off, bring out her new foldable phone, talk loud:

"10:40."

She turn the phone round, make everybody see. The screen dey shine, wallpaper na her with husband for London Bridge. She dey show am like say na trophy, everybody dey hail her.

As she talk finish, the window for my bathroom upstairs open.

You know that window, the one wey always stiff. If you no careful, e fit wound your hand. As e open, breeze carry small water drop down. All the mothers pause small.

Abubakar poke head out, smile, shout give me:

"Honey, I don dey run water o. Play small, then come up."

His smile bright reach third floor. He always like to announce himself, make everybody know say e dey present. Some mothers dey whisper—"Na so correct man suppose dey."

I look Kamsi, she don dey sweat from play. I just make OK sign. "I hear you."

Kamsi wipe her forehead, dey shake leg like say she wan dance shaku shaku. I just smile, dey thank God say at least, her papa dey care.

Abubakar wave greet all the mothers, then close window.

He wave like politician. One mama even joke say, "Na Abubakar suppose dey contest for councillor, see as everybody dey respect am." E sweet my belle small.

The mothers just dey hail.

"Your husband na correct man. See as e fine, gentle. I hear say he become partner this year? E for dey earn like hundreds of thousands now, abi?"

Another mama cut in, dey adjust her gele, "No be lie, lawyer money no dey finish. Even my husband dey always complain say make I learn from you. Na you dey enjoy!"

"Hundreds of thousands ke? E pass that one! Lawyer like Mr. Abubakar, e fit dey collect at least one million a year. Kamsi’s mama, you just dey enjoy as full-time housewife."

"No be only one million o. Na big man you marry! See as you dey shine. If to say na me, I no go ever stress for anything again."

"See as e dey help for house, dey cook for weekend, always dey smile, no get any bad habit. If I compare am with my own husband, na day and night difference."

One mama hiss, "My own go just dey watch football, dey order me anyhow. If na like your own, my life for don sweet." Everybody burst laugh.

"Me, na the love between you and your husband I dey envy pass. That time wey una get accident—he really risk him life for you."

All the mothers just dey nod, dey hail me.

Dem dey look me with small envy, some dey pray their own marriage go sweet like mine. For their eye, Abubakar na king, me na queen. Me sef dey humble, but inside my heart, I dey feel small pride.

About half year ago, as me and Abubakar dey go buy flower, trailer jam us from back, our car tumble, fire catch front immediately.

That day, na one big market day. We just finish buy small suya, dey gist dey laugh. Before I know, trailer blast horn, before I shout, gbam! Everything turn. I fit remember smoke, heat, people dey run. Life flash before my eye.

Him side, the driver side, face up, so dem rescue am quick, but me, I jam under, I no fit move.

My leg hook for under dashboard, seatbelt tie me like juju. As people dey panic, my own breath dey finish.

As fire dey increase, people begin run. Na only Abubakar dey shout, dey drag me with all him power, even as him hand dey bleed. "Abeg, help my wife, save am!"

People for roadside dey shout, "Jesu! Blood of Jesus!" as Abubakar dey drag me.

The blood for his hand dey drip, I dey beg am make e leave me go, but Abubakar no gree. He dey fight, dey drag seatbelt with teeth, na so stubborn love dey. My heart melt.

Just five seconds after he drag me commot, car explode.

The sound tear my ear, everybody shout. Fire waka reach sky. People for junction even kneel down, dey pray, say dem never see that kind miracle before. Me, I dey shake for Abubakar chest, dey thank God, dey cry.

Person record the accident, put am for Facebook. E trend, people dey talk say I for don save galaxy for past life to get husband wey love me reach like this.

Even police call am hero, say make government give am award. Church use our picture do testimony. People from village call, dey bless me. Na so life turn me to local celebrity for sorrow and love together.

As I remember that day, my eye red.

Tears dey front of my eye, I dey try hide am. I dey remember Abubakar laugh, the way e fit carry person for back, the way e dey joke say I dey over-worry. My heart dey bite me.

Abubakar dey always gentle, but for that kind moment, na real man him be.

Even after the scars for hand no heal finish, e no let me feel guilty. He dey remind me say love no be for mouth.

After that accident, two fingers for him right hand no fit do fine work again. I cry sotay my heart cut.

I dey help am cut food, tie tie for him tie, help am wear cufflink. Sometimes he go pretend say e wan use left hand do everything, just to make me laugh. But I dey see the pain, and I dey cry inside.

He rub my head, smile tell me:

"No worry. Na my brain I dey use work. Even if I lose two more fingers, I still go dey take care of you."

He go laugh, call himself 'Senior Advocate of Left Hand'. Everybody go laugh, but me I dey feel am for deep.

That moment,

Na that time I know say love fit strong like iroko. I dey thank God, dey pray make nothing ever separate us again.

I just nod, gree with all the mothers.

"True true, my husband na correct man."

The mothers hail, dey tap me for back. One mama give me chin-chin, another one say, "Your marriage go last. Amen." Everybody smile, dey wish better thing.

You may also like

I Fought My Mother-in-law With Pie
I Fought My Mother-in-law With Pie
4.9
Nnenna thought marriage would bring peace, but her mother-in-law’s love comes with public shame and silent battles. When a single act of rebellion turns into a family war, secrets, insults, and old wounds spill out—until one shocking moment leaves the whole house stunned and no one innocent. In this home, respect is a weapon and pride is deadly; who will survive the next round?
Bakery Widow: I Burnt My Daughter’s Killer
Bakery Widow: I Burnt My Daughter’s Killer
4.8
After her only child is murdered and the law refuses to punish the boy behind it, Aunty Hanatu’s pain twists into a desperate thirst for revenge. With the whole neighborhood watching, she and her friend take justice into their own hands—hiding a dark secret behind the smell of fresh bread. In a country where the law protects monsters, how far will a grieving mother go to find peace for her child?
Stepbrother’s Hatred: Banished in My Mother’s House
Stepbrother’s Hatred: Banished in My Mother’s House
4.7
On my mother’s wedding day, I was forced to call a stranger 'Daddy'—and his son nearly drowned me for it. Now, trapped in the Adekunle mansion, I am treated like an outcast, blamed for a death I did not cause, and forced to kneel before a stepbrother who would rather see me gone. I thought I was escaping poverty, but I entered a house where my suffering is the only thing truly mine.
Her Child, Their Sins: Blood for Blood
Her Child, Their Sins: Blood for Blood
4.8
When six-year-old Eniola is brutally attacked by her own playmates, her family’s world shatters. The village buries the crime, but her mother, Yetunde, returns with madness and murder, hunting down each child and parent who escaped justice. As blood spills and secrets unravel, one question haunts the community: how far will a mother go when the law fails her child?
Who Send Me Marry This Family
Who Send Me Marry This Family
4.9
After months of planning to fulfill her aging mother’s lifelong dream, a devoted daughter faces shocking betrayal from her own son and daughter-in-law. Family group chats explode, old wounds reopen, and the fight for respect and dignity threatens to tear them all apart. Will she sacrifice her own happiness or finally put herself first, no matter the cost?
My Stepmother Chased My Real Mama
My Stepmother Chased My Real Mama
5.0
Chisom, blamed for her mother’s death, grows up as an outcast in her own home while her father pours love on adopted Ifeoma. On her sixteenth birthday, public humiliation and a violent family rift explode—but a mysterious call from beyond the grave promises a second chance. Will Chisom finally reclaim her place, or will secrets and betrayal destroy her for good?
My Cousin Framed Me for Blood
My Cousin Framed Me for Blood
5.0
Morayo returns home for New Yam Festival, only to be accused by her own cousin of killing the village matriarch in a hit-and-run. With her family’s honor and freedom on the line, Morayo must fight public shame, betrayal, and a tangled web of village politics to clear her name before everything she loves is destroyed.
My Village Raised a Killer Queen
My Village Raised a Killer Queen
4.8
Ngozi was the pride of Umuola—the first university student in a hundred years, carried on the back of a dying, desperate village. But when every single villager is found slaughtered, blood and shame thick in the air, all eyes turn to her—the golden child turned cold-blooded killer. Now, as she faces the nation’s wrath, Ngozi reveals a shattering secret: her 'little brother' is actually her own son, and her entire life is built on a lie that will destroy everything her people died for.
My Daughter’s Killer Wore My Husband’s Face
My Daughter’s Killer Wore My Husband’s Face
4.9
When Nnenna Okafor vanishes, her parents' perfect world shatters—only to discover her body turned into sausages in Baba Tunde’s butcher shop. But as the police dig deeper, secrets claw their way out: the killer’s confession is chilling, but a schoolgirl’s whisper blows the case wide open—was the real murderer living inside Nnenna’s own home all along? In a town where love hides more than hate, who can you trust when your family wears a stranger’s mask?
Rejected by My Own Son, Reborn for Revenge
Rejected by My Own Son, Reborn for Revenge
4.8
On her son's birthday, Morayo's world shatters when he publicly wishes for her to disappear from their lives forever. Betrayed by family and mocked by in-laws, she dies alone—only to awaken on the very day everything went wrong. This time, she refuses to beg or break, ready to reclaim her dignity and make those who cast her aside taste the pain they gave her.
My Stepmother’s Hands Killed My Mama
My Stepmother’s Hands Killed My Mama
4.9
Ifunanya fights for her place in a house haunted by secrets, betrayal, and actual spirits. Bullied by her stepmother and stepsister, slapped by her own father, and haunted by the truth about her mother’s death, she must survive the night in a cursed room—where justice and revenge might finally meet. For Ifunanya, it’s now or never—her pain must speak, or her spirit will join the ghosts.
I Reincarnated as the Family Scapegoat
I Reincarnated as the Family Scapegoat
4.6
After dying in Lagos traffic, I wake up as Morayo—the notorious troublemaker sister inside a popular Nigerian novel. My new life is judged by WhatsApp gossips and family drama, with everyone waiting for me to ruin my quiet brother, Ifedike. But I refuse to let the story turn me into the villain again; this time, I’ll fight for my own happy ending, even if it means breaking every rule in this Naija house.