CHAPTER FIVE:THE WOMAN IN THE MIRROR
798 Words
That night, the silence in the house felt unfamiliar almost unnatural.
Chioma lay on her bed, eyes wide open, staring at the cracked ceiling above her. Sleep refused to come. Each time she closed her eyes, she saw it again the look on Adaeze’s face.
Not tears.
Not fear.
Something worse.
Absence.
She turned to her side with a frustrated sigh, pulling the thin wrapper tighter around her body as if it could shield her from the discomfort crawling beneath her skin. The room was warm, but she felt cold.
Restless.
Uneasy.
She sat up abruptly.
The house was too quiet.
Normally, there would be the soft rustle of Adaeze shifting in her sleep, or the faint sound of her breathing from the next room. But tonight, there was nothing.
Chioma swung her legs off the bed and stood still for a moment, listening.
Nothing.
A strange knot tightened in her chest.
Slowly, she stepped out of her room and walked down the narrow hallway. The dim light from the kerosene lamp flickered against the walls, casting long, unsteady shadows that seemed to follow her.
She stopped at Adaeze’s door.
It was slightly open.
Chioma hesitated, her hand hovering over the wood before gently pushing it wider.
Adaeze was awake.
Lying flat on her back, eyes open, staring straight at the ceiling.
Not blinking.
Not moving.
Just… staring.
For a moment, Chioma said nothing. She simply stood there, watching her daughter in a way she hadn’t done in years.
“Adaeze?” she called softly.
No response.
The girl didn’t even turn.
Chioma frowned slightly and stepped closer. “Why are you not sleeping?”
Still nothing.
The silence pressed heavily against her ears.
Something about it felt wrong deeply wrong.
Not defiance. Not stubbornness.
It was emptiness.
Chioma swallowed hard, an unfamiliar discomfort rising within her chest. She opened her mouth to speak again, but the words refused to come.
Instead, she turned and walked out.
Back to her room.
Back to herself.
But the image followed her.
Those eyes.
That stillness.
That silence.
She shut her door and leaned against it, exhaling slowly as though she had been holding her breath.
“What is wrong with that child?” she muttered under her breath.
But even as she said it, something inside her resisted the thought.
For the first time in a long while, she felt something crack beneath the surface of her anger.
Not irritation.
Not frustration.
Something deeper.
Uneasy, she walked toward the small mirror hanging on the wall. It was old, its edges chipped, the reflection slightly warped but it was enough.
She stood in front of it.
And stared.
At first, she saw nothing unusual. Just herself. The same face she had always known.
But the longer she looked, the more unfamiliar it became.
Her eyes looked tired no, not just tired. Hardened.
Her lips, once quick to smile, now rested in a permanent line of disapproval.
Even her posture carried a certain weight, as though she had been carrying something heavy for too long.
Chioma tilted her head slightly, studying her own reflection as if searching for something she had lost.
“When did this happen?” she whispered.
The question lingered in the air.
Unanswered.
Her mind drifted back to a time when she used to laugh easily, when life felt lighter, when her future seemed full of possibilities.
Before everything changed.
Before the betrayal.
Before the pregnancy.
Before Adaeze.
Her expression tightened.
“No,” she said quickly, shaking her head as if trying to push the thought away.
But it was too late.
The connection had already formed.
Her gaze softened, just slightly.
Then, without warning, another image forced its way into her mind Adaeze, standing silently after the slap, her small face expressionless.
Not crying.
Not reacting.
Just… there.
Chioma’s chest tightened.
A strange, unfamiliar feeling crept in, making her uncomfortable.
Guilt.
She looked back at the mirror.
At herself.
At the woman she had become.
And for the first time, she did not like what she saw.
“I’m not a bad person,” she said aloud, her voice low, almost defensive.
The room offered no response.
She exhaled shakily and ran a hand through her hair.
“I’m just… tired,” she added, as if trying to justify something even to herself.
But deep down, she knew it was more than that.
Much more.
The silence returned, heavier this time.
And in that silence, Chioma stood there, caught between who she had been… and who she was becoming.
For the first time, she could not ignore it.
For the first time, she was forced to see the truth.
Not through anyone else’s eyes.
But her own.
And it unsettled her more than anything ever had.
- Writer
