Between Silence and Sorry
786 Words
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By the time we got home, evening had already begun settling in.
The kind of soft evening that blurred the sky into tired shades of gold.
Without saying much, I headed straight upstairs.
No conversations.
No unnecessary stopping.
Even when Miss Bose called out for dinner downstairs, I ignored it.
For now.
My room felt quieter than usual.
Comforting.
I absentmindedly straightened my bed, smoothing the sheets without really paying attention.
But somehow my thoughts drifted back to Michael.
The way he smiled.
The awkward handshake.
The strange warmth in his eyes.
I stopped instantly.
Shaking my head.
No.
Absolutely not.
I blocked the ridiculous imagination already trying to build unnecessary fantasy scenarios in my head.
Mechanic or not.
Cute smile or not.
Whatever that was, it needed to relax.
A soft knock interrupted my thoughts.
“Zara…”
Aunty Tracy’s voice came faintly through the door.
Usually louder.
But the thickness of the door softened her voice into something quieter, almost hesitant like someone unsure of whether they were welcome.
I sighed.
Then walked over and opened it.
A smile stretched across her face immediately.
One hand rested casually on her waist while her eyes wandered past me, scanning my room from over my shoulder.
“What a princess life you’re living here,” she said, amusement dancing in her voice.
I stepped aside silently.
She walked in and settled onto the couch positioned beside my window.
“I haven’t really had time to talk to you since I came back, Zara.”
Her smile faded slightly.
She picked up one of my magazines, Super Opera Skincare. Its glossy pages filled with models showing off flawless skin and impossible beauty standards.
She flipped through it lazily.
Then dropped it.
Uninterested.
“I know you’re mad at me,” she said quietly. “And honestly… that’s fair.”
Her fingers folded together.
“I hurt your mum too.” Her voice lowered. “She’s my sister, and I know it’ll probably take a long time before she lets go.”
I simply watched her.
Expressionless.
My face giving absolutely nothing away.
“Mum told me everything,” I said flatly. “You know that, right?”
She nodded immediately.
“Yeah, I know, Zara.” She exhaled shakily. “That’s what’s killing me… this awkward tension.”
Her eyes shifted away.
Like looking at me too long made the guilt worse.
“Do you even know how I feel right now?”
Her voice cracked slightly.
She blinked fast.
Trying and failing to stop tears from gathering.
“I’m sorry, Zara,” she whispered. “Truly, I am.”
Her voice broke.
“I just want everything to go back to how it used to be.”
I folded my arms lightly.
“That depends on Mum,” I said calmly. “Not me.”
I paused.
“I wasn’t the one you lied to.”
The room fell quiet.
“You told her you traveled abroad,” I continued. “Meanwhile, you were still here in Nigeria all those years.”
She lowered her head.
“And I wish I actually had gone,” she whispered painfully.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“I cried. I begged.” Her breathing shook. “But everything had already gone wrong.”
She wiped her face quickly.
“The friend I made plans with…” she swallowed hard. “She took all the money we saved.”
“All of it.”
Her voice cracked again.
“I couldn’t come back.”
“I couldn’t face your mum.”
“Zara… I didn’t even know what to do.”
More tears escaped.
And somehow, for the first time, she didn’t look manipulative.
Didn’t look dramatic.
Didn’t even look like Aunty Tracy.
She just looked…
Broken.
And despite everything,
All I felt was pity.
I stood up slowly and walked toward her.
I mean what had happened had already happened.
There were no undoing years.
No reversing betrayal.
But maybe…
Maybe redemption wasn’t impossible.
“Like I said,” I sighed quietly, “that depends on Mum.”
I shrugged.
“But knowing her…”
A small smile tugged at my lips.
“She’ll eventually get over it.”
I looked at her properly.
“You just have to show her you’re serious.”
I stopped there.
Honestly?
I was too mentally exhausted to continue the emotional conversation.
Her expression softened instantly.
Hope creeping back into her face.
Before leaving, she reminded me to come downstairs for dinner.
And now that she mentioned it the hunger I had ignored suddenly became impossible to deny.
After all, mum had never truly abandoned her.
Had she?
- Writer
