PIECE OF ME

THE CRACK

CHAPTER 3

The morning after the burial house filled again with voices. Rivers people know how to sit with grief, but they also know how to talk while doing it. Women in wrappers carried plates of food up and down. Men sat outside with bottles of beer and plastic chairs, pretending they were discussing arrangements but mostly gossiping. I could hear my father’s name everywhere. They said it with respect, but the sound of his name, falling casually from their lips like it was just another word, made me want to scream.

I sat in the corner of the parlor, my phone in my hand, pretending to scroll. I wasn’t reading anything. The screen was blurred from the tears that refused to fall. It was my second week of trying to cry, and still nothing. The heaviness was there, sitting on my chest like a stone, but the release wouldn’t come. Maybe something inside me was broken. Maybe grief had swallowed the part of me that knew how to cry.

The only sound I could really hear in all the noise was the ache in my abdomen. It had started again—sharper than before. I had taken painkillers that morning, hoping to push it down long enough to get through the day, but it was clawing its way back. The doctor’s words replayed in my head: It’s complicated. You can’t carry this pregnancy. You’ll need someone here with you when we discuss the treatment.

Someone. I had no one.

Daniel wasn’t answering my calls anymore. The last message I sent him, telling him what the doctor said, was left on read. He had called me ungrateful last week, because I hadn’t said thank you after he sent me five thousand naira. Five thousand. Like my grief could be fed with bread and sardines from a roadside kiosk. Like my pain had a price tag. Like I should bow because he remembered to toss me change.

Every time I thought about it, my chest burned.

I looked up when Steph walked in. My best friend. Or at least, the girl who used to be my safe place. She looked out of place here, in her jeans and fitted top, but she also looked comfortable in her skin. I hadn’t seen her in days. When my dad died, she had texted, I’m so sorry, Uche. I’ll come around when things settle. Things hadn’t settled, and I had been waiting.

She spotted me in the corner and came over.

“Uche,” she said softly, crouching down beside me. She hugged me, but it was the kind of hug that didn’t sink in. Her hands were cold, her perfume too strong. I stiffened.

“You disappeared,” I said, my voice flat.

“I know. I’ve been… busy.” She didn’t meet my eyes. “But I’m here now.”

Busy. The word tasted bitter. What could be more important than showing up for me when my whole life was splitting apart? But I swallowed it. I didn’t have the strength for another fight.

As she sat next to me, I noticed someone behind her. A guy. Tall, sharp jaw, easy posture. He was talking to someone by the doorway, half-laughing, like nothing in the world weighed him down. His face was familiar. I blinked, and it clicked. Steph’s brother. Chen.

I hadn’t seen him in years. Back then, he was just Steph’s annoying older brother who flirted with everything that moved. From the way girls outside kept glancing at him now, he hadn’t changed.

I looked away. I wasn’t in the mood to catalog someone else’s confidence.

Steph leaned closer. “How are you holding up?”

I almost laughed. Holding up. Like I was a tent pole that hadn’t snapped yet. “I’m breathing,” I said.

She nodded, like that was an answer. Like she didn’t notice my eyes sinking deeper every day.

The pain in my abdomen twisted again. I sucked in a breath and shifted in my seat. Steph frowned. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” The lie came too easily.

If I told her the truth, I’d have to tell her everything. About the doctor. About the ectopic pregnancy. About Daniel’s denial. About how my life felt like it was bleeding from the inside. I couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

She reached for my hand, then pulled back before touching me. “If you need anything, just call me.”

I wanted to say I needed you the day I got the call from the mortuary. I needed you when I was sitting alone outside the hospital with my world burning down. I needed you when Daniel’s voice shredded me into pieces. Where were you then? But I stayed quiet. Silence was safer.

The day dragged. Faces blurred. Condolences piled like dust. By evening, I slipped out to the back of the compound. The air was cooler there, quieter. My phone buzzed in my pocket. A message from Daniel. My chest tightened as I opened it.

We need to talk. Meet me outside.

For a moment, I stared at the words, unsure if I was hallucinating. He hadn’t bothered with me in days. Now suddenly he wanted to talk?

I pushed myself up and walked slowly to the gate. My abdomen throbbed, but I kept moving. When I got there, I froze.

Daniel was standing under the streetlight. And beside him was Steph.

They were standing too close. Not touching, but close enough that I knew it wasn’t their first time being like that. My stomach turned.

Steph’s voice was low, but I caught pieces.

“…she doesn’t know…”

“…you said you ended it…”

“…complicated, Daniel…”

The blood in my ears drowned out the rest. I gripped the wall, my body shaking. Betrayal isn’t loud. It’s quiet. It’s two people you trust using silence like a knife.

I stepped back before they could see me. The pain in my stomach flared so hard I gasped. My vision blurred. Heat rushed through me, then cold.

I tried to breathe, tried to steady myself, but the ground tilted. My knees buckled.

The last thing I remember was the sound of Steph’s laugh, faint and sharp, before everything went black.