chapter 3
876 Words
Mrs Rebecca thought she’d finally found real love. After years of misery with her husband—after he just left her behind with a child to raise on her own—Jonathan walked into her life. He was gentle. He called her queen. He told her she deserved happiness. She believed every word.
When her husband disappeared, he left behind everything. Land, papers, half-finished dreams. Rebecca stepped up and took charge. Jonathan encouraged her to sell off some of the land. “Life’s short,” he would say. “Let’s enjoy what we have now. Who can say what tomorrow will bring?”
So, bit by bit, she began to sell. The money came in. She and Jonathan lived well—good food, new clothes, a life so soft she almost forgot all the years of hardship. She never doubted him. Love made her blind.
Then they sold one big property—just that sale alone brought in two hundred million. Rebecca felt proud. She let Jonathan handle the money. Why wouldn’t she? She trusted him.
That same week, Jonathan came to her with what sounded like pure kindness.
“My love, we need to find your daughter. I know you miss her. I think it’s time.”
Rebecca’s heart melted. She thought he cared, that he wanted to help her put her family back together.
They made plans to go looking for her daughter that very day.
On the way, they reached a junction. Jonathan pulled over.
“Wait here,” he said. “I think I forgot something at home. I’ll be right back.”
She didn’t question him. She waited. Five minutes, then twenty, then an hour, then two.
Jonathan never came back.
Fear crept in. Rebecca went home, her heart pounding.
She opened the door. Everything fell apart.
Jonathan was gone. His bag—gone. The money—gone. The documents for her last pieces of land—gone.
She screamed. She fell to the floor. No one was there to catch her.
That night, she cried until she had no tears left. Regret came and never left.
She searched for her daughter. Nothing. Looked for her husband. Nothing. In the end, all she had left was the house she lived in.
She reported Jonathan to the police. They searched, but he had vanished. Rebecca began to see herself as a fool. Love had destroyed her.
What she didn’t know? Jonathan didn’t enjoy her money for long.
While running, trying to cross a busy road, a car hit him. He died instantly. The police found the money and documents in his bag. But nobody told Rebecca. She kept on suffering, never knowing the truth.
Each day, she cried and prayed.
“Lord, if I ever see my husband again, I’ll honor him. I’ll never shout at him. I’ll cherish him.”
She wept for her daughter. “My only child is out there somewhere,” she’d whisper. “Who knows what’s happened to her. God help me.”
She didn’t know her husband was alive, only locked away in prison. Didn’t know her daughter was pregnant, hiding her pain under another woman’s roof.
Misery came into Rebecca’s life and burned everything down.
No money. No help. No dignity.
Hunger pushed her to shame.
At first, she slept with men for cash. Just enough to eat. Just to survive. She told herself it was only for now.
But “for now” became forever.
She refused to sell the house—she couldn’t bear the thought of ending up on the street. So she sold herself instead.
The big men came. They paid. Then they left.
Each time, something inside her dimmed.
She started going to the clubs. She drank until she forgot her own name. Smoked until her lungs burned. Some nights, she thought about ending everything. She’d clutch a knife and weep, but fear always held her back.
Most nights, she got so drunk she collapsed in the gutter. Young boys took advantage of her. In the morning, she’d wake up dirty, heavy with shame. She’d drag herself home and weep.
She prayed every day.
Nothing happened.
When hunger grew unbearable, she stole from stores and ran away. People began to call her mad.
Piece by piece, her mind unraveled.
She had no one left. No husband. No daughter.
Meanwhile, Mr Okonkwo was still alive.
He was trapped in prison.
Someone had set him up years ago. That’s why he disappeared. He couldn’t contact his family. Locked away, he wept nearly every day.
“I want to see my wife,” he’d whisper. “I want to see my child.”
He didn’t know his family was scattered.
Joy, his daughter, wasn’t on the streets.
She lived comfortably with Mrs Linda.
Mrs Linda was a single mother with a son named Emeka. Emeka was abroad, studying medicine. Mrs Linda poured her energy into her job and into raising Joy.
Joy worked hard as well. She learned the estate business quickly. She carried her pregnancy with quiet resilience. She missed her father. She prayed for him every night.
She didn’t know her mother was slowly fading away.
Life hurled them all in different directions.
Rebecca fell.
Joy stood strong.
The husband waited.
- Writer
