The Kiss We Hid

Amara was rendered speechless. The garden now felt alien, with each tree and shadow seemingly concealing a secret. “Who?” she finally managed to whisper. “Who wanted us to be separated?” Chike turned to his father, who lowered his gaze. “We’re not entirely sure,” he replied. “But your father’s former business partner had a son named Emmanuel.” Amara's eyes widened in recognition. “Uncle Emmanuel?” “Exactly.” She recalled him fondly, as he was a constant presence at family gatherings and someone her father deeply trusted. “But he’s dead,” Amara stated. “His body was never recovered,” Chike explained. A chilling silence enveloped them. Amara glanced down at the letters she held. “Is that why Adaeze was adopted?” Chike shook his head. “We believe so. Your father found her as a baby after a tragic incident and chose to raise her as his own.” “Why didn’t he tell us?” “Because someone threatened him.” Amara's heart sank. “Who?” Before Chike could respond, headlights suddenly illuminated the garden. A black car pulled up, and Chike's father tensed immediately. “Go,” he whispered urgently. “Why?” she asked. “Now.” As the car door swung open, a man emerged. Amara recognized him instantly, chills running down her spine. Uncle Emmanuel. “But... you’re dead,” she murmured. The man smiled. “I hoped you’d remember me.” Chike stepped in front of Amara. “What do you want?” Emmanuel ignored him, focusing solely on Amara. “I want what your father took from me twenty years ago.” “What did he take?” “My daughter.” Amara’s heart raced. “Adaeze?” Emmanuel nodded. “She was my child.” “No,” Amara stammered. “That can't be true.” “It is,” he replied, pulling out an old photo showing a young woman cradling a newborn. Amara fixated on the baby’s face, noticing a small birthmark above its left eyebrow—the same mark Adaeze had. Her hands trembled. “Why did my father take her?” Emmanuel's demeanor shifted. “Because he knew the truth about her mother.” “Who was her mother?” He glanced at Chike, then back at Amara. “Your father's greatest enemy.” Chike frowned. “Stop with the mysteries.” Emmanuel smiled cryptically. “Ask your father what occurred the night your mother died.” Amara froze. “My mother died in an accident.” “That’s what you were told,” he said, moving toward his car. “Wait!” Amara called out. “Where are you going?” Emmanuel paused. “You’ll find the answers in the old house on the hill.” With that, he drove off. Amara turned to Chike. “What old house?” Chike's complexion had drained of color. “I know it.” “Where is it?” “My mother’s old family home.” Amara stared at him in disbelief. “Then we’re going there.” Chike took her hand. “Amara, you don’t understand. That house has been vacant for twenty years.” “Maybe it’s time we uncover why.” Together, they left the garden, unaware of a figure concealed among the trees who had been listening to everything. As the stranger slipped away into the shadows, a phone was raised to an ear. “Sir,” the voice whispered. “They found the letters.” A pause followed before the response came. “Then stop them before they learn the truth.” The wedding was just three days away.