Oathbound

The Lonely House 2

📖 Chapter 2: Cracks in the Glass

Scene 1: The Stroke

It happened on an ordinary Tuesday morning. The city was already alive with noise and bustle as Obadiah walked into his office, dressed immaculately as always in a tailored grey suit. He carried his briefcase in one hand, greeting secretaries and junior managers with his usual booming cheer.

But just as he stepped into the boardroom, something strange gripped him. The world tilted. His legs buckled. He clutched the edge of the long table, gasping. His right arm felt heavy, useless, and a sharp, stabbing pain shot through his chest and neck.

“Papa!” Uche shouted, leaping from his chair. “Somebody call an ambulance!”

Voices rose in panic. His vision blurred as he sank to his knees. He felt hands grab his shoulders, a cold sweat breaking across his brow.

By the time the ambulance arrived, Obadiah was conscious again but unable to speak. His eyes darted wildly, confused, humiliated, angry.

At the hospital, the doctor delivered the words none of them wanted to hear.

“It was a mild stroke,” he explained, holding a clipboard. “He’s stable now, but he needs rest. His blood pressure is dangerously high. Continuing at his current pace…” He trailed off meaningfully.

Esther clutched her husband’s hand, her face pale.

“You’ll rest,” she whispered to him fiercely. “You must.”

Obadiah only stared at the ceiling, his jaw clenched.

Scene 2: What to Do with Papa

In the hospital cafeteria, his children sat around a table — Uche at the head, Ada and Ifeoma flanking him, and Chidi slouched at the end, stirring his coffee.

“He can’t keep running everything,” Uche said flatly. “We all see it. This was a warning.”

Ada nodded. “But how do we convince him? He’ll never agree to just… stop.”

Chidi snorted. “Convince him? He’ll never step down. Not unless he’s forced.”

“Chidi!” Ifeoma hissed, scandalized. But Uche didn’t flinch.

“Maybe that’s what we need to do,” Uche said grimly. “For his own good. And for the company. If he has another stroke, and dies, the business will collapse in chaos.”

Chidi leaned back and crossed his arms, satisfied.

They all fell silent as Esther entered the cafeteria, her eyes searching their faces.

“You’re already plotting, aren’t you?” she said softly. “While he’s lying in a hospital bed.”

“No, Mama,” Uche said quickly. “We’re… we’re just trying to make the best decision for everyone.”

Esther’s eyes glistened, but she said nothing more, walking past them with quiet dignity.

Scene 3: The Family Meeting

Weeks later, after Obadiah was discharged, they gathered in the mansion’s living room — the entire family, dressed formally as though this were a board meeting. Obadiah sat in his armchair, still looking imposing despite the cane he now carried. His children sat across from him, exchanging nervous glances.

Uche cleared his throat.

“Papa… we think it’s time you let us handle things at the company.”

Obadiah’s eyes narrowed. “You think so, eh?”

“You need rest,” Ifeoma added gently. “The doctor said—”

“The doctor is not the one who built what I built,” Obadiah snapped.

Ada stepped in. “We’re only thinking of your health, Papa. And your happiness. You should retire. Spend time here in the village, where it’s peaceful.”

Chidi chimed in, unable to hide a smirk. “We can take it from here. Don’t worry about anything.”

Obadiah looked at each of them in turn. The silence stretched.

Finally, he chuckled bitterly. “So. You’re all in agreement. Throw the old man out to pasture.”

“No one is throwing you anywhere,” Uche said evenly. “We’re just… stepping up.”

For the first time, Obadiah looked small, hunched. His pride was too strong to protest further. He only waved his hand dismissively.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Do as you please.”

But as they left the room, his eyes burned with quiet betrayal.

Scene 4: The Farewell Dinner

That weekend, the family threw a dinner in his honor. Long tables were set up in the garden, draped in white linens, candles flickering in the dusk. A jazz band played softly. Guests from the business world came to pay their respects.

“Papa, you’ll love the village,” Ifeoma said, kissing his cheek. “It’s quiet. Fresh air. Perfect for you.”

“Yes,” Ada added. “We’ve already arranged everything. The old family house has been cleaned up. You’ll have staff, of course. Anything you need.”

Obadiah forced a smile as people toasted him.

“To our patriarch,” Uche said, raising a glass. “Who built everything we have.”

The guests clapped politely. Obadiah nodded stiffly, sipping his wine.

But he couldn’t shake the hollow feeling in his chest. He could see it in their eyes — not just worry, but relief. Eagerness to move forward without him.

Later that night, as everyone laughed and danced, he slipped away to the veranda. Esther found him there, staring into the dark.

“They think they’re helping,” she said softly.

“They think they’re rid of me,” he replied, his voice flat.

Scene 5: The Village House

Early one morning, a black SUV carried Obadiah and Esther along winding, dusty roads to the ancestral village. Esther dozed beside him, but Obadiah stared out the window, lost in thought.

When they arrived, a small crowd of villagers — elders, women with babies on their backs, young men in jeans — gathered to greet them.

“Ah! Chief Obadiah himself!” one old man exclaimed, shaking his hand vigorously. “Welcome home!”

The youth helped carry his bags. Little children peeked at him shyly from behind their mothers’ skirts. It was the warmest welcome he’d felt in years.

But when he stepped into the old house — dark, musty, with furniture covered in sheets — a wave of sadness washed over him. The rooms echoed with emptiness.

That night, after Esther had unpacked and settled in, she came to find him standing in the parlor, staring at the family portraits on the wall.

“It will feel like home again,” she said gently.

He nodded, but said nothing.

Scene 6: Left Behind

The weeks that followed were quiet. Too quiet. At first, he would sit on the porch, expecting visitors. Expecting calls. Expecting his children to show up, even if just to check on him.

But no one came. No calls. No letters.

He began writing letters himself — long, careful letters to each child. He asked about the business, about the grandchildren. He told them how proud he was, how he missed them.

He gave the letters to Chike, a bright-eyed youth from the village who worked odd jobs for him.

“Post these for me,” he’d say every week, handing over stamped envelopes.

But the letters were never answered.

Days turned into weeks, and Obadiah began to sit on the porch longer and longer, waiting for the sound of a car on the gravel. Waiting for laughter. Waiting for anyone.

Only silence came.

Scene 7: A Flicker of Resentment

One evening, after another day of sitting alone, Obadiah shuffled into the bedroom where Esther was knitting.

“They’ve forgotten me,” he said quietly.

“No,” she replied. “They’re busy. That’s all.”

But she didn’t meet his eyes.

Later that night, as she slept, he sat at the kitchen table in the dark, staring at his hands. The hands that once signed contracts worth millions, that once built factories and fed thousands. They looked frail now, the veins like blue threads.

He thought of Uche’s stiff smile. Chidi’s smirk. Ada and Ifeoma’s impatient glances.

For the first time in his life, Obadiah wondered if all his sacrifices had been for nothing.