Chapter 1: Second Chance or Family Wahala?

After I was recognized by my real family, the fake daughter went and jumped into the river.

My heart skip beat—this kain thing fit scatter person life for Naija.

Na wah! The whole community dey buzz as news spread like fire for harmattan—some neighbours even gather outside compound dey whisper, some dey look me with side-eye. Aunties dem begin carry gist from market to church. For Naija, family matter dey quick waka reach street.

The whole family believed I was the one that pushed her to her death.

Dem no even wait make police finish talk, everybody don decide say na me. Na so so accusation dey fly, some dey point finger for my face. Even small pikin for backyard dey look me like say I be witch. My body dey shake as I remember how quick people dey judge for here—nobody dey hear your side first.

Mummy cried like say her chest wan burst.

She scatter wrapper for ground, hold her chest, tears dey fall like rain for July. Neighbours rush hold am, dey fan her head, dey shout: “Ndo o! Ndo o!” She cry, call my name, say, “Chai, God! Wetin I do wey I deserve this kain wahala?” Her voice choke with pain.

Daddy slapped me ten times for face.

Hot slap dey burn my cheek, my ear dey hum like generator. I wan talk, but my tongue heavy. E no even wait make I talk, just dey shout, “You don kill am! You don spoil my name!” Even house help run go hide as slap dey fly. My face swell, tears wan comot but I hold am—I no wan show weakness.

As slap land, my mind fly go orphanage—where I dey beg for family, now I dey beg for breath.

My brother even pushed me from third floor—na so I fall die.

Na real gbege be that! As my brother push me, everything slow down for my eye. I dey fall, breeze dey slap my body. For Naija, dem go say na village people dey follow me. I hit ground, everything black. E be like say the world just disappear. My spirit waka comot body.

When I open my eyes again, I don come back—right on the very day dem first carry me enter house.

My body cold, sweat full my face. I look round, everywhere strange but familiar. Na the same day dem bring me from orphanage. My heart dey beat—na second chance be this? For Naija, dem go talk say God never finish with me.

The room wey dem give me, na so the fake daughter dog scatter am finish.

Dog wey suppose dey for outside, na im come spoil my welcome. Sheet and pillow tear like say rat bite am. Dog don show itself for real Naija style—dem say, ‘See as e take dey behave like person wey no get home training.’

The fake daughter dey cry, tears full her face like rain: “Sorry, sister, abeg, no vex. Make you manage my room, I go fit squeeze for store. No be my fault o.”

She kneel down small, voice dey shake. For our side, when person beg like that, e go add ‘abeg’ everywhere. Neighbours peep inside corridor, dey wonder wetin dey happen. Her face swell from cry, hand dey wipe nose, her body just dey tremble.

Mummy come hug her tight, pain full her face: “You no dey sleep well o. If you change room now, you fit get insomnia.”

Mummy pull Halima for chest, dey rub her back, voice soft like person wey dey pet small pikin. Her own pain dey show too, but she wan protect Halima. As she dey talk, her eyes dey watch me sharp-sharp, like say she dey measure my reaction.

This time, I no choose room.

I choose person.

I take deep breath. For my mind, I just remember say for Naija, house na people wey dey inside, no be wall and roof. Na so I gree follow my spirit—this time, I no go dull myself.