Binta

Chapter Thirteen — The Woman My Father Chose

I didn't know what to say.

My father stood in front of me, alive.

Binta stood beside him, tears running down her cheeks.

My mother was near the doorway, staring at the man she had mourned for months.

And suddenly, none of the questions mattered.

I had spent so long searching for explanations that I had forgotten what it felt like simply to see someone I thought I had lost forever.

"Father?"

He nodded.

I stepped toward him.

He opened his arms.

I didn't think.

I walked into them.

For the first time since his funeral, I cried.

Not the quiet tears I had shed when nobody was watching.

I cried like a child.

My father held me tightly.

"I'm sorry, son."

I shook my head against his shoulder.

"Why did you let me believe you were dead?"

"Because I needed you to believe it."

"Why?"

"Because there were people watching you."

I pulled away.

"And now?"

He looked at my mother.

"Now the danger has changed."

My mother wiped her face.

"Your father wanted to tell you everything."

I stared at her.

"Then tell me."

My father nodded.

"Sit."

We sat around the old table.

Binta remained standing.

I reached for her hand.

She hesitated.

Then she took it.

My father noticed.

He smiled faintly.

"I was hoping for this."

I looked at him.

"For what?"

"For you to finally understand why I chose Binta."

I squeezed her hand.

"I thought you chose her because of some secret."

"There was a secret."

My heart tightened.

"What?"

He looked at Binta's father.

"Her father saved my life."

I frowned.

"That's all?"

"No."

My father leaned back.

"Twenty years ago, I discovered what was happening around Gold Creek."

I listened.

"Money was being moved through companies that appeared legitimate. Land was being transferred illegally. People who questioned powerful men suddenly found themselves without jobs, without homes, sometimes without lives."

I glanced at Binta.

"Her father knew?"

"He knew enough to understand the danger."

My father continued.

"At the time, I was young. I thought exposing everything would be simple."

He smiled sadly.

"I was wrong."

"What happened?"

"I was followed. My clinic was searched. My records disappeared."

He paused.

"Then one night, someone tried to kill me."

Binta's father lowered his head.

"I found him near the old roadside," he said. "He was bleeding."

My father nodded.

"Binta's father took me into his home."

"Your mother was there?"

"Yes."

I looked at my mother.

She nodded.

"We hid your father for three weeks."

I looked at Binta.

"And that's how you knew her family?"

"Yes."

My father looked at Binta.

"I watched her grow up."

Binta looked uncomfortable.

"Issa, your father never told me all of this."

"I know."

"He only told me that you needed someone who would keep you grounded."

My father smiled.

"Because you were always stubborn."

I laughed despite myself.

"You weren't exactly easy either."

"True."

For a moment, everything felt normal.

Almost.

Then my father's expression changed.

"I knew you loved Tracy."

I looked down.

"Yes."

"I never hated her."

"Then why did you want me to leave her?"

"Because I knew her father."

Silence.

"Daniel isn't a monster," my father said.

I looked at him.

"He is capable of doing terrible things. But he loves his daughter."

"That doesn't make sense."

"It does."

My father looked at me.

"When powerful families become afraid of losing everything, they protect themselves at any cost."

"And Tracy?"

"Tracy was caught between being your father's daughter and being the woman you loved."

I swallowed.

"You knew she would choose him."

"I feared she would."

"She did."

My father looked at Binta.

"That's why I wanted you to know what real love looked like before you made your decision."

I turned toward Binta.

She looked away.

My father's voice softened.

"I never wanted to force you to marry her."

I stared at him.

"What?"

"I wanted you to discover her."

I remembered the wedding.

The arguments.

The resentment.

The nights Binta had stayed when I pushed her away.

The food she brought me.

The way she listened when I spoke about my father.

The way she never asked me to love her.

She simply waited.

"I failed you," my father said.

"No."

"I should have told you."

"You were trying to protect me."

"That doesn't excuse lying."

I looked at Binta.

"Nothing does."

---

Later that evening, I found Binta outside.

She was sitting alone.

The city lights flickered beyond the compound.

I sat beside her.

She didn't look at me.

"Are you angry?"

"At you?"

"Yes."

She smiled faintly.

"I'm tired."

"Of me?"

"Sometimes."

I laughed quietly.

"Fair."

She finally looked at me.

"You know what hurts?"

"What?"

"I spent so long believing your father chose me because he knew something about my family."

She paused.

"But he chose me because he believed I loved you."

"You do."

"Yes."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"That's the problem."

I took her hand.

"Binta..."

"Don't say you love me because you feel guilty."

"I don't."

"Then why?"

I looked at her.

Because for the first time, I understood.

Not suddenly.

Not magically.

But slowly.

Love wasn't always the woman who made your heart race.

Sometimes it was the woman who made you feel safe enough to stop running.

"I love you."

She stared at me.

I repeated it.

"I love you, Binta."

She looked away.

I touched her cheek.

"I should have told you sooner."

She whispered:

"Do you mean it?"

"Yes."

She closed her eyes.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

"I've waited so long to hear that."

I pulled her into my arms.

She rested her head against my chest.

For the first time, there was no Tracy.

No Trina.

No Gold Creek.

No secrets.

Just us.

---

But peace never lasts.

Three days later, Tracy called.

I stared at her name for almost a minute.

Binta was beside me.

She saw the screen.

"Answer."

I looked at her.

"You don't have to."

"I want you to."

I answered.

"Hello."

Tracy didn't speak immediately.

Then:

"I heard your father is alive."

"Yes."

"I'm glad."

"Why did you call?"

"I wanted to apologize."

"For what?"

"For everything."

I closed my eyes.

"I don't know if I can forgive you."

"I understand."

She began crying.

"Issa, I did love you."

"I know."

"But I was afraid."

"I know."

"My father made me choose."

"And you chose him."

"Yes."

Silence.

Then she whispered:

"I wish I had been stronger."

I looked at Binta.

She was watching me quietly.

"I wish I had been too," I said.

Tracy cried.

"Is she there?"

"Binta?"

"Yes."

"She's here."

"Does she love you?"

I looked at my wife.

"Yes."

"And you love her?"

I swallowed.

"Yes."

Tracy was silent for a long time.

Then she said:

"Then don't do to her what you did to me."

The call ended.

I put the phone down.

Binta didn't ask what she said.

"You're not going to leave me, are you?"

"No."

She nodded.

"Good."

She leaned against me.

And for the first time, I believed my life might actually become peaceful.

I was wrong.

---

Trina returned two weeks later.

She didn't call.

She simply appeared at the clinic.

I found her sitting in the waiting area.

"Trina?"

She stood.

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to say goodbye."

I frowned.

"Goodbye?"

She smiled.

"I'm leaving Monrovia."

"Why?"

"Because I need to."

I didn't know what to say.

She looked at my wedding ring.

"You look happy."

"I am."

She nodded.

"Good."

"You deserve happiness too."

"I know."

She looked at me.

"And maybe one day I'll stop comparing every man I meet to you."

I smiled.

"You'll find someone better."

"I doubt that."

"You will."

She stepped closer.

For a second, I thought she might kiss me.

Instead, she hugged me.

I hugged her back.

When she pulled away, her eyes were wet.

"Take care of her."

"I will."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

She nodded.

Then she walked away.

I watched her disappear through the clinic doors.

And I realized something.

For the first time in years, I wasn't wondering whether I had chosen the wrong woman.

I had finally chosen.

Binta.

---

That evening, I went home early.

Binta was preparing dinner.

I wrapped my arms around her from behind.

She laughed.

"You're becoming troublesome."

"Maybe."

"What happened?"

"Nothing."

"Then why are you smiling?"

"Because I'm married to you."

She turned around.

"You've finally realized?"

"I was slow."

"Very."

I kissed her forehead.

"I want to start again."

She looked at me.

"Start what?"

"Us."

Her smile softened.

"No more secrets."

"No more secrets."

"No Tracy?"

"No Tracy."

"No Trina?"

"No Trina."

She raised an eyebrow.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

She smiled.

"Then I'll believe you."

I kissed her.

And for a moment, I believed promises were enough.

---

That night, my father called me.

I went to the clinic alone.

He was sitting behind his desk.

"I need to tell you something."

"What?"

He handed me a file.

I opened it.

Inside were documents about Gold Creek.

But there was one photograph on top.

Binta's father.

Daniel Cole.

My father.

And a fourth man.

I recognized him.

James.

I looked up.

"Who is he?"

My father leaned back.

"He is the one person you should be careful with."

"Why?"

"Because he has been watching Binta for years."

My stomach tightened.

"Why?"

My father didn't answer.

Instead, he opened another file.

Inside was a photograph of Binta and James.

They were teenagers.

Standing together.

Smiling.

I stared at it.

"When was this?"

"Before you met her."

"Who is James?"

My father looked at me.

"Someone who has loved Binta much longer than you realize."

I felt something cold settle in my chest.

"Does Binta know?"

"Yes."

"Does she love him?"

My father sighed.

"That is the question you need to ask her."

I stood abruptly.

My father's voice stopped me.

"Issa."

I turned.

"Don't make the mistake of believing that because someone loves you, they will wait forever."

I walked out.

But I couldn't shake the photograph from my mind.

Binta and James.

Before me.

Together.

Smiling.

And for the first time since I had finally chosen Binta, doubt began whispering in my ear.

When I reached home, the lights were off.

"Binta?"

No answer.

I switched on the light.

She was sitting in the living room.

Waiting.

Her eyes were red.

"You know about James," I said.

She looked at me.

"Yes."

"Who is he?"

She stood.

"Someone from my past."

"Did you love him?"

She hesitated.

And that hesitation was enough to break something inside me.

"Issa..."

"Did you?"

She looked down.

"I don't know."

I laughed bitterly.

"That's what Tracy used to say."

She looked at me.

"Issa, please."

I walked past her.

Then she said something that stopped me.

"James is coming back."

I turned.

"When?"

She looked at me.

"Tomorrow."

I stared at her.

"Why?"

She whispered:

"Because he has come back to ask me to marry him."

And suddenly, the choice I thought I had finally made no longer felt like mine alone.