HOW HARD IS IT TO LOVE

LEARNING PROCESS

*CHAPTER 13:

The mansion woke up differently.

For the first time in months, the smell of disinfectant was not mixed with fear. The external staff had done their work well. The marble floor was shining, the kitchen was arranged, the curtains were washed and hanging straight. There was no blood on the rug anymore.

Elisa woke up at 5:00 a.m. on the king-sized bed.

It was a habit. At the orphanage in Lagos where she had lived all her life, she woke up by 5 a.m. to fetch water before morning devotion. Her body did not know that she was now supposed to sleep. She folded her duvet neatly and went to the parlour.

Martha met her there. She was wearing a simple house dress.

"Elisa! What are you doing?" Martha whispered. "Mr. Edward said no work today."

"I cannot just sit, Ma," Elisa said softly. "Let me just arrange small."

Martha collected the cleaning cloth from her hand. "Go and bathe. Mrs. Adeyemi is coming by 10. You need to prepare."

Elisa wanted to argue, but at that moment, footsteps came from the stairs.

Edward was coming down, wearing a black t-shirt and grey joggers, his hair still rough from sleep. He was holding a bottle of water. He stopped when he saw Elisa standing in the middle of the parlour with Martha.

"You are up early," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"I thought I said no manual work today," he said. His voice was not harsh, but firm. Like a senior brother correcting a younger one.

"I... I was just trying to help, sir," Elisa whispered.

Edward looked at her for a second, then at the cloth in Martha's hand.

"Elisa, listen," he said calmly. "You work for me, yes. But your work now is to study. If you want to help in this house, you can help after your classes. Not before. Go and prepare for your class. That is an instruction."

"Yes, sir," Elisa said quickly and ran upstairs.

---

By 9:30 a.m., Elisa was ready.

She wore one of her new dresses — a simple blue cotton gown that stopped at her knees. Her hair was combed neatly. Her new notebooks were arranged on the parlour center table.

At exactly 10 a.m., Mrs. Adeyemi arrived with the external staff. Edward had called them for three days to handle the heavy cleaning.

The four women in blue uniforms entered with mops and buckets. They greeted Martha and went straight to the kitchen and the back corridor.

Mrs. Adeyemi smiled at Elisa. "Good morning, my student. Are you ready?"

"Yes, ma."

They sat in the parlour. Mrs. Adeyemi brought out a small primary school textbook.

"Let us start from the beginning. Write your name for me."

Elisa picked the pen, her hand shaking. She wrote ELISA in capital letters, but the S was bent.

"Good. Now write it in small letters."

Elisa stared at the page. She did not know small letters.

Mrs. Adeyemi understood. "You only learned how to speak because that was what you all grew up learning how to speak back then in the orphanage, right? And you only saw children going to school on that small TV?"

"Yes, ma," Elisa whispered.

"Then we will start from speaking to writing. It is not shameful not to know. It is shameful not to want to learn."

For the next one hour, Mrs. Adeyemi taught her A, B, C in small letters. Elisa repeated after her, writing slowly, her tongue sticking out a little from concentration.

It was while Elisa was writing 'b' and 'd' that the voices came from the kitchen corridor.

The external staff were gossiping.

One of them, a fair woman with a loud voice, was whispering but not whispering enough.

"See that small girl inside," she said. "I heard she was a maid before. Now oga bought her ten bags of clothes yesterday. Ten!"

Another one laughed. "You don't know Lagos big men? They bring small orphan girls to the house and call them house help. After two weeks, the girl becomes madam."

The fourth woman, who was wiping the cabinet, added, "She is even fine. Very fair. You know men like fair girls..."

Elisa's pen stopped. Her hand froze on the notebook.

Mrs. Adeyemi noticed her face changed. "Elisa, what is it?"

Elisa did not answer. She stood up abruptly, the chair scratching the marble floor, and ran upstairs. She entered the guest room and closed the door.

Edward had passed by the kitchen that time to get water before heading to work. He was in a white shirt now, his office bag in his hand. He heard everything — the gossip, the chair scratching, Elisa's footsteps running.

He stopped at the entrance of the kitchen corridor. The four women were still there.

When they saw him, they froze.

"Is that why you're here?" he asked. His voice was low, but every word was clear. "Do you intend getting sacked?"

The fair woman's face turned white. "Sir?"

"I called you to clean my house, not to discuss my household in my own house," Edward said. "If you cannot work without gossiping about a child under my roof, then you can drop your mops and leave."

"We're sorry, sir," they chorused, bending their heads. "We're very sorry, sir."

"Finish what you came to do and leave. And if I hear one more word about anyone in this house from your mouth outside this gate, I will make sure you don't get work in this estate again."

"Yes, sir."

Edward turned to leave. He wanted to move out to work. He held his office bag tighter and took a step toward the main door.

Then he staggered a bit and stood for some seconds.

He could hear Martha's soft voice upstairs, trying to comfort Elisa.

He thought of seeing her before he left for work.

He turned around and walked up the marble stairs.

Upstairs, Elisa's door was closed. He did not see Martha knocking — Martha had already gone inside the room. He stood at the doorway and knocked lightly.

Elisa opened the door, her eyes red.

"Sir..."

Edward looked at her tears. He kept his distance at the doorway.

"Not everything in life requires tears," he said. His tone was strict, like a guardian who does not want a child to grow weak. "It makes you weak. People will always talk. If you cry for every talk, you will cry every day. Go and prepare for your class. Mrs. Adeyemi is waiting."

Elisa sniffed. "Yes, sir."

He walked past the room and went downstairs without another word. He picked his office bag from where he had dropped it and left for work.

Downstairs, Elisa cleaned her face and went back to the parlour.

Mrs. Adeyemi was still sitting there.

"Come," she said. "We were at letter 'd'."

Elisa sat and continued writing, her hand now firmer. The class continued until 1 p.m. By the end, Elisa could write her name in small letters — elisa.

---

Night came.

At about 11 p.m., Edward came downstairs to get water from the kitchen. As he passed the dining table, he saw Elisa's small notebook open.

There was a sentence written in rough, slanted but careful small letters, written alone without help.

It read: "my name is elisa and i want to go to school"

Edward stood there for a long time.

He did not touch the book. He just looked at it and felt lighter.

He thought to himself, _She is 18, but she is still a child in the ways of this world. She needs to learn. My duty is to guide her right._

He turned off the dining light and walked upstairs.

Upstairs, Elisa was asleep on the king-sized bed, her new notebook hugged to her chest, her face peaceful.

A new day would come, and she would be ready to learn how to breathe again.