Binta

Chapter Seven — The Secret Between Us

The rain had stopped by the time I reached Gold Creek.

I sat inside my car for nearly a minute, staring at the massive iron gates ahead of me.

This was the place where everything seemed to begin.

And somehow, I had the feeling it was also where everything would end.

My father's warning echoed in my head.

Trust no one.

Then the man's voice returned.

Your mother.

I looked at the address written on the note.

Gold Creek.

I had been there only once as a child.

My father had taken me there.

I barely remembered the place, but I remembered his hand around mine and the strange seriousness in his face.

He had told me not to wander.

I had thought he was simply being protective.

Now I wondered whether he had been afraid.

I stepped out of the car.

The gate was open.

That was the first thing that frightened me.

I walked inside.

The compound was enormous.

A beautiful mansion stood at the center, surrounded by carefully trimmed lawns and towering palm trees.

But there was something strangely quiet about the place.

No servants.

No guards.

No cars.

Nothing.

"Binta?"

My voice disappeared into the darkness.

I moved toward the house.

The front door was unlocked.

I pushed it open.

"Binta!"

Nothing.

I stepped inside.

The smell of old wood and expensive perfume filled the air.

I looked around.

Everything was immaculate.

Photographs covered the walls.

Daniel Cole with politicians.

Daniel Cole with businessmen.

Daniel Cole shaking hands with important people.

Then I saw one photograph that made me stop.

My father.

Standing beside Daniel.

Both men were younger.

And between them stood a woman.

My mother.

I walked closer.

There was something strange about the photograph.

My father wasn't smiling.

Daniel was.

My mother looked frightened.

I touched the frame.

"What happened here?"

A voice came from behind me.

"You shouldn't have come."

I spun around.

Binta stood at the bottom of the staircase.

My heart nearly stopped.

"Binta."

She looked exhausted.

Her hair was disheveled, and there was a small mark on her cheek.

I rushed toward her.

"Are you hurt?"

She shook her head.

"No."

"What happened?"

"I don't know."

"Who brought you here?"

She looked away.

"I don't know."

"Stop saying that."

She looked at me.

"I'm telling you the truth."

I took her hands.

"They told me to come alone."

"You shouldn't have."

"I would have come anyway."

She stared at me.

"Why?"

I hesitated.

Because I was afraid to say the truth.

Because every time I looked at Binta lately, something inside me shifted.

"I couldn't leave you here."

Her eyes softened.

"You came because you were worried about me?"

"Yes."

"Only because you were worried?"

I didn't answer.

She looked down.

"Issa..."

"What?"

"Nothing."

She tried to walk past me.

I caught her hand.

"Wait."

She stopped.

I looked at her face.

"Tell me what happened."

She sighed.

"I was at home."

"I know."

"I heard someone outside."

"What happened?"

"I went to look."

"And?"

"I don't remember anything after that."

"You were drugged?"

"Maybe."

I looked around.

"Where were you when you woke up?"

"Upstairs."

"Who was here?"

"Nobody."

"Then how did you get downstairs?"

"I don't know."

I stared at her.

Something wasn't right.

Then I noticed her hand.

There was a folded piece of paper between her fingers.

"What is that?"

She quickly closed her hand.

"Nothing."

"Binta."

She looked at me.

"Issa, please."

"What is it?"

She finally gave it to me.

I opened it.

There were only three words.

Ask your mother.

I looked at Binta.

"About what?"

"I don't know."

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"You know something."

She looked away.

"I know enough to be afraid."

I stepped closer.

"Afraid of what?"

She whispered:

"Your family."

The words stunned me.

"My family?"

She nodded.

"Your father wasn't the only person keeping secrets."

"Who else?"

She looked directly into my eyes.

"Your mother."

---

We left Gold Creek together.

Neither of us spoke during the drive.

Binta sat beside me, staring through the window.

I wanted to ask her a hundred questions.

But I was afraid of the answers.

When we reached home, my mother was sitting in the living room.

She looked up.

The moment she saw Binta, her face changed.

"You found her."

It wasn't a question.

My hands tightened.

"You knew she was at Gold Creek."

My mother stood.

"No."

"Don't lie to me."

"Issa—"

"You knew."

She looked at Binta.

Binta remained silent.

My mother sighed.

"I knew Daniel was going to take her."

"And you did nothing?"

"I couldn't."

"Why?"

"Because he threatened you."

I laughed bitterly.

"Everyone keeps using me as an excuse."

My mother started crying.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Tell me the truth."

"Issa..."

"Tell me everything."

She sat down.

For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then she whispered:

"Your father wasn't supposed to marry me."

I froze.

"What?"

"He loved someone else."

I looked at her.

"Who?"

"Amina."

Binta's head lifted.

"My mother?"

My mother nodded.

Binta took a step backward.

"No."

My mother continued.

"Your father loved Amina before he met me."

I stared at her.

"Then why did he marry you?"

"Because Daniel found out."

"What did Daniel do?"

"He threatened Amina."

Binta's breathing became heavier.

"He threatened her life."

My mother wiped her eyes.

"Your father believed marrying me would protect both families."

I shook my head.

"This makes no sense."

"It does when you know the whole story."

"Then tell me."

My mother looked at Binta.

"Amina had evidence against Daniel."

"What evidence?"

"Documents proving that Gold Creek had been built on stolen land."

Binta's eyes filled with tears.

"And my mother?"

"She wanted to expose him."

"Then why didn't she?"

My mother looked down.

"Because someone betrayed her."

The room became silent.

I already knew the answer.

"Who?"

My mother didn't respond.

"Who?"

She whispered:

"Me."

Binta covered her mouth.

"No."

"I was afraid."

"You gave him her location?"

My mother nodded.

Binta turned away.

"My mother trusted you."

"I know."

"You killed her."

"I didn't kill her."

"You gave her to the man who did."

My mother broke down.

"I was trying to save Issa."

I stared at her.

"What did Daniel threaten to do?"

"He said he would kill you."

I felt something crack inside me.

My mother had betrayed Amina because of me.

My father had carried the guilt.

Binta had inherited the pain.

And somehow, I was expected to marry her as though none of it mattered.

I looked at Binta.

She was crying silently.

I moved toward her.

She stepped back.

"Don't."

"Binta."

"Please."

I stopped.

She wiped her tears.

"I need to go."

"Where?"

"Anywhere."

"You can't go alone."

She looked at me.

"I've been alone for years."

Then she walked out.

I didn't follow.

For the first time, I understood that sometimes loving someone meant giving them space to hate you.

---

The following week changed everything.

Binta stopped coming to the house.

She stopped answering my calls.

She returned every message with one word.

Fine.

I hated that word.

Fine meant she wasn't fine.

Tracy continued calling.

I stopped answering.

Trina disappeared.

My mother barely spoke.

And I began spending evenings at my father's clinic.

His old office had become my hiding place.

One night, I sat behind his desk and opened the drawers.

There were medical records.

Old prescriptions.

Photographs.

Letters.

Then I found a small box.

Inside was a necklace.

A simple silver necklace.

Attached to it was a piece of paper.

For Amina.

My heart stopped.

I read the note.

If anything happens to me, give this to her daughter.

Binta.

I stared at the necklace.

Why had my father kept it?

Why had he wanted Binta to have it?

Then I noticed another piece of paper beneath it.

This one was newer.

My father's handwriting.

Issa, if you are reading this, then you have finally discovered what I could never tell you.

I unfolded it.

Binta is not your father's enemy.

I swallowed.

She is the reason I trusted her.

I continued.

When Amina died, Binta was still a child. She knew nothing about what happened.

I closed my eyes.

Do not punish her for the sins of her mother, or the fear of your own.

I sat there for a long time.

Then I read the final line.

If you ever find yourself choosing between the woman who excites you and the woman who gives you peace, remember that love is not always the loudest feeling.

I stared at the paper.

Tracy excited me.

Trina tempted me.

But Binta...

Binta made me want to become better.

I picked up my phone.

I called her.

This time, she answered.

"Hello."

"Binta."

Silence.

"I found something."

"What?"

"A letter from my father."

"What did he say?"

"That you're innocent."

She laughed softly.

"Did you think I wasn't?"

"No."

"You did."

"I was confused."

"You always are."

I smiled despite myself.

"I miss you."

Silence.

Then:

"Don't say that."

"Why?"

"Because I miss you too."

My heart tightened.

"Come home."

"This isn't your home."

"Then let me come to yours."

"No."

"Why?"

"Because if I see you, I don't know if I'll be strong enough to leave again."

I closed my eyes.

"Binta."

"Issa?"

"Do you still love me?"

She didn't answer immediately.

Then she whispered:

"That's the problem."

The call ended.

---

I went to find her the next morning.

She was sitting beside her father's tea cart.

The old man was asleep inside a nearby room.

Binta was reading.

She looked up.

"You shouldn't be here."

"I know."

"You never listen."

"Not when it comes to you."

She tried not to smile.

I sat beside her.

For a while, we said nothing.

Then I placed the necklace on her palm.

She stared at it.

"What's this?"

"My father wanted you to have it."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

She turned the necklace over.

There was a tiny engraving on the back.

Amina.

Binta began crying.

I reached for her hand.

She didn't pull away.

"He loved your mother," I said.

"I know."

"He wanted to protect you."

She nodded.

"And I think..."

I stopped.

"What?"

"I think he wanted me to understand that marrying you wasn't a punishment."

She looked at me.

"Then what was it?"

I took a breath.

"A choice."

Her eyes met mine.

"And what are you choosing?"

I looked at her.

"You."

She looked away.

"You don't know what you're saying."

"I do."

"No, Issa."

She stood.

"You've loved Tracy for years."

"I know."

"You've wanted Trina."

"I know."

"You've hurt me."

"I know."

"Then why should I believe you now?"

I stood.

"Because I'm not asking you to believe me."

She frowned.

"I'm asking you to watch me."

"What?"

"Don't believe my words."

I stepped closer.

"Watch what I do."

She looked into my eyes.

"I'll prove it."

Her voice became softer.

"And if you change your mind?"

"Then you walk away."

"And if I don't?"

I smiled.

"Then I'll spend the rest of my life trying to deserve you."

She looked away.

For several seconds, neither of us moved.

Then she whispered:

"You're making this very difficult."

"I know."

She smiled.

"You're still annoying."

"I know."

"That's what I hated about you."

"And now?"

She looked at me.

"Now I'm afraid that's what I love."

I didn't move.

Neither did she.

Then she reached up and touched my cheek.

I closed my eyes.

She kissed me.

This kiss was different.

It wasn't desperation.

It wasn't guilt.

It wasn't confusion.

It was a beginning.

When we separated, she rested her forehead against mine.

"Don't make me regret this."

"I won't."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She smiled.

For the first time, I believed the future might actually belong to us.

Then a car stopped across the road.

The window rolled down.

Tracy was inside.

She stared directly at us.

Her face was expressionless.

Then she lowered the window completely.

And I saw the man sitting beside her.

Daniel Cole.

My blood ran cold.

Daniel looked at Binta.

Then at me.

He smiled.

He lifted his phone.

A second later, mine vibrated.

I looked down.

One message.

You have no idea what Binta promised me.

Another message arrived.

And when she tells you, you'll hate her.

I looked up.

The car was already moving away.

Binta noticed my expression.

"What happened?"

I looked at her.

I wanted to tell her.

I wanted to ask her.

But before I could speak, my phone vibrated again.

This time, it was a photograph.

Binta.

Standing beside Daniel Cole.

Much younger.

And beneath it were four words:

She came to us first.