CHAPTER SEVEN:THE VISIT
867 Words
The sun hung lazily in the afternoon sky, casting a dull warmth over the compound as Chioma rinsed a basin of clothes beside the doorway. The repetitive motion of her hands in the soapy water usually gave her some sense of control, but today, her thoughts were restless.
Adaeze sat quietly on a wooden stool nearby, her small fingers tracing invisible patterns on her skirt. She had returned from school earlier than usual, her silence even heavier than before.
Chioma noticed.
She always noticed.
But she had long trained herself not to ask.
A knock came at the gate.
Sharp. Unexpected.
Chioma frowned, wiping her wet hands against her wrapper before walking over. Visitors were rare, and rarely welcome.
She opened the gate to find a woman standing there neatly dressed, composed, with a calm but observant gaze.
“Good afternoon,” the woman said politely.
Chioma nodded cautiously. “Good afternoon.”
“My name is Mrs. Ekanem. I’m Adaeze’s teacher.”
Something in Chioma’s chest tightened immediately.
Teacher?
Her eyes instinctively shifted toward Adaeze, who now stood frozen in the doorway, her face pale.
“Is there a problem?” Chioma asked, her tone already edged with defense.
“No,” Mrs. Ekanem replied gently. “May I come in?”
There was a brief hesitation before Chioma stepped aside.
The air inside the house felt different as they settled into the small sitting area. Adaeze lingered at the entrance, unsure whether to stay or disappear.
“Come and greet your teacher properly,” Chioma said sharply.
Adaeze obeyed, her voice barely audible. “Good afternoon, ma.”
Mrs. Ekanem smiled warmly. “Good afternoon, Adaeze. You can sit.”
But the girl remained standing until Chioma gave a slight nod.
The silence that followed was thick, stretching longer than necessary.
Chioma crossed her arms. “So… what brings you here?”
Mrs. Ekanem studied her carefully, choosing her words with intention.
“Adaeze is a very bright child,” she began. “Quiet, but observant. She does well in her work.”
Chioma gave a short nod. “She should.”
There was no pride in her voice only expectation.
“But,” Mrs. Ekanem continued softly, “I have noticed something.”
Chioma’s expression hardened. “What?”
“She is afraid.”
The words landed gently, but their impact was anything but.
Chioma let out a small, humorless laugh. “Afraid? Of what? School?”
Mrs. Ekanem shook her head slowly. “No. Not school.”
Her gaze didn’t waver.
“Home.”
The room fell silent.
Adaeze’s fingers tightened around the fabric of her skirt.
Chioma’s jaw clenched. “I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
“I’m not accusing you,” Mrs. Ekanem said calmly. “I’m concerned.”
“There is nothing to be concerned about,” Chioma snapped. “I take care of my child. She eats. She goes to school. What else is there?”
Mrs. Ekanem leaned forward slightly, her voice still gentle but firmer now.
“Care is more than providing food and shelter.”
That struck something.
Chioma shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.
“I’ve seen children like Adaeze before,” the teacher continued. “Children who speak only when necessary. Who watch every movement. Who apologize even when they’ve done nothing wrong.”
Adaeze lowered her head.
Chioma noticed.
And for the first time, she didn’t feel irritated.
She felt… uneasy.
“She flinches sometimes,” Mrs. Ekanem added quietly.
That was it.
Something cracked just slightly inside Chioma.
“That’s not true,” she said quickly, but her voice lacked conviction.
Mrs. Ekanem did not argue.
Instead, she spoke more softly.
“Sometimes, when we are hurting, we don’t realize how that pain affects the people around us.”
Chioma’s breathing slowed.
Her eyes flickered, just for a second.
“I don’t know what you’ve been through,” Mrs. Ekanem went on. “But whatever it is… Adaeze is not the cause of it.”
Silence.
Heavy. Unavoidable.
Chioma looked at her daughter again.
Really looked this time.
The small frame.
The guarded posture.
The fear she had always dismissed.
Memories flashed raised voices, harsh words, the sound of a slap, the way Adaeze would shrink into herself.
For a moment, Chioma saw it all… not as justification, but as truth.
And it unsettled her.
“I…” she started, but the words refused to come.
Mrs. Ekanem stood up gently, sensing she had said enough.
“I didn’t come to judge you,” she said. “I came because Adaeze deserves to feel safe. Especially at home.”
She turned to leave, then paused.
“And so do you.”
The gate clicked shut behind her.
The compound returned to its usual quiet, but something had shifted.
Inside, Chioma stood still, her thoughts louder than any noise.
Adaeze remained where she was, uncertain.
“Mummy…” she called softly.
Chioma didn’t respond immediately.
She was staring at nothing and everything.
For the first time in a long while, she wasn’t angry.
She was thinking.
And somewhere beneath the layers of pride and pain… something unfamiliar began to rise.
Guilt
- Writer
