PLEASE DON'T HIT ME

the caught

I turned slowly, my heart beating so loud I could hear it in my ears.

Standing there was Kunle, the okada boy from down the street. He had one hand in his pocket and that annoying grin on his face, the kind that always made it look like he knew something you didn't.

"Why you dey follow your papa like say you be CID?" he whispered, stepping closer.

"Shhh!" I hissed, glancing back at Daddy. He was still talking to the woman, their heads bent close.

Kunle tilted his head. "Na the woman wey dey sell provisions? Hmm." His grin widened. "I fit talk, you know."

I swallowed hard. "Talk to who?"

"To anybody wey wan hear gist." He leaned against the kiosk like he owned the place.

"Kunle, abeg. No tell anybody." My voice cracked a little.

He shrugged. "I no get your time. But you go gree say I help you go back house quick before he see you."

Before I could answer, Daddy's voice cut through the night air. He was laughing not that half-smile he gave Mama at home, but a real laugh, deep and warm.

It made my stomach twist.

The woman touched his arm, and something about the way her fingers lingered made my skin pale.

Kunle tapped my arm. "Come before you go jam wahala."

I followed him, my legs heavy, the torchlight in my hand suddenly feeling like a useless toy.

By the time we reached the main road, I couldn't hold it in anymore. "Kunle, you sabi this woman before?"

He nodded slowly. "She no be just provision seller. People dey talk say she get plenty 'customers' wey no dey buy biscuit."

My chest tightened.

When I got home, Mama was waiting by the door. One look at my face and she knew.

"You see am?" she asked.

I nodded, my throat dry.

She closed her eyes for a moment, then whispered, "Okay. Tomorrow, we meet Aunty Rose."

Something in her voice told me things were about to change - and not in a small way.

The next morning, Mama didn't speak much. She moved around the kitchen like her mind was somewhere else, the way she does when she's thinking of something heavy. I just sat at the table, poking at my bread, wondering who exactly this Aunty Rose was and why Mama thought she could help.

By 9 a.m., we were already on the road. Mama held my wrist like she was afraid I'd run away, and we took a keke to a part of town I didn't know too well. The buildings here were older, their paint peeling, their balconies filled with flower pots and hanging clothes.

We stopped in front of a faded blue gate. Mama knocked three times, then paused, then knocked twice again - like it was some kind of secret code.

The gate creaked open, and a tall woman in a wrapper and oversized T-shirt peered out. Her face was serious, but her eyes softened when she saw Mama.

"Ezinne," she said quietly, opening the gate wider. "Come in."

Inside, the compound smelled faintly of dried herbs and something like burning wood. I spotted small calabashes by the wall and a row of plants I didn't recognize. My skin prickled.

We went into a sitting room that was dim despite the daylight. Heavy curtains blocked most of the sun, and there were framed pictures of people I didn't know on the walls.

Mama didn't sit until Aunty Rose motioned to a chair. "You brought her?" she asked.

Mama nodded. "Yes. I needed her to see what I've been telling you."

Aunty Rose's gaze turned to me, sharp but not unkind. "Your father... was with her again last night?"

The way she said "her" made my stomach twist.

I nodded slowly.

She leaned back, her fingers drumming the arm of her chair. "Ezinne, I told you the last time - this is not ordinary woman matter."

Mama's hands tightened in her lap. "I know. That's why I brought ada (igbo call their first daughter that name))here. She saw it herself. She needs to understand."

I frowned. "Understand what?"

Aunty Rose's voice dropped low. "That woman your father is seeing... she's not just destroying marriages. She's been using charms. Tying men to her so they can't leave."

I felt my heartbeat quicken. "Charms? Like... juju?"

Rose gave me a long look. "Exactly. And if nothing is done, your father... he may not just forget your mother. He may forget his children too."

My mouth went dry. I thought about Daddy's laugh last night, the warmth in his eyes that I hadn't seen in months not even at home.

Mama leaned forward. "Rose, you said there's a way to break it."

Rose nodded. "Yes. But it's risky. And... it will require you to be brave, Ada."

My breath caught. "Me? Why me?"

"Because you're the only one she won't suspect. She knows your mother would never come near her. But you..." She smiled faintly. "You're still a child in her eyes. That's the only advantage we have."

Mama touched my arm gently. "You'll just need to go there, talk to her, and bring back something personal she uses every day. A cup, a scarf, anything."

I stared at both of them, my chest tight. "And then?"

"Then I'll use it to untie your father from her grip," Rose said simply.

The words sounded simple enough, but something in her eyes told me it wasn't going to be that easy.