The Kiss We Hid

THE MOTHER'S SECRET

The second gunshot echoed through the night.

Amara ducked instinctively as Chike pulled her behind the car, while his mother urged the others toward the trees.

“Stay down!” he yelled.

Another shot shattered the car window, causing Adaeze to scream.

“Someone is trying to kill us!”

Chike glanced into the darkness. “I know.”

Then a figure stepped out from behind the trees, causing Amara's heart to stop. It was Mr. Peter, her father's former driver, with a gun in hand.

“Put it down!” Chike commanded.

Peter grinned. “You should have left the past behind.”

Chike's mother stepped forward. “Peter, it’s over.”

“No,” he retorted. “It ends tonight.”

Amara suddenly recalled the voice from the phone. “Were you the one who called me?”

Peter laughed. “No.”

“Then who?”

He aimed his gun at her. “The one who has been orchestrating all of this from the start.”

Just then, headlights appeared on the road, signaling an approaching police vehicle.

Peter panicked and darted into the forest.

Chike immediately followed. “Chike, don’t!” Amara shouted, but he was already gone.

Minutes later, he returned alone. “He got away.”

Amara glanced at him. “Why would he say someone has been controlling everything?”

Chike's mother sighed. “Because it’s true.”

“Who?”

She looked at Amara. “Your biological mother.”

Amara was taken aback. “My mother is alive?”

“She never died.”

“Where is she?”

The woman gestured toward the road. “She’s closer than you think.”

A woman emerged from the police vehicle, and Amara gawked at her as she slowly removed her sunglasses. Her face seemed oddly familiar, and Amara froze. “Who are you?”

The woman smiled through tears. “My name is Grace.”

Amara shook her head. “That name…”

Grace nodded. “Your father called me that.”

“Why?”

“Because he loved me.”

Amara's heart raced. “You’re my mother?”

Grace nodded. “I gave birth to you.”

Amara broke down in tears. “Then why did you leave me?”

“I didn’t.” Grace stepped closer. “I was told you died.”

Amara looked perplexed. “Who told you?”

Grace directed her gaze toward Chike’s mother. “She did.”

Everyone turned to her, and Chike's mother lowered her head. “I was trying to protect you.”

Grace’s demeanor hardened. “You separated a mother from her daughter for twenty-four years.”

Amara interjected, stepping between them. “Enough!”

She faced Grace. “If you really are my mother, prove it.”

Grace pulled a small silver pendant from her handbag. “I gave this to you when you were born.”

Amara looked at it in recognition; it was the same pendant she had worn since childhood, always told to be a gift from her father. She clutched it tightly.

Then Grace whispered, “Your father didn’t die six years ago.”

Amara looked up in shock. “He died twenty-four years ago.”

Silence fell. “The man buried in that grave…” Grace’s voice faltered. “…was someone else.”

Amara felt lightheaded, and Chike caught her just before she fell.

Grace revealed the last piece of the puzzle: “Your real father is still alive.”

A familiar voice then broke through the tension. “That’s enough, Grace.”

Everyone turned to see a man standing under the streetlight, the one they thought had been dead for six years—Amara’s father.