OH STUPID FRIEND

THE NEW HOME

CHAPTER FOUR

Life at Auntie Rebecca’s house was... bearable.

It wasn’t home. It never would be. But it was calm. Clean. And slowly, over time, Daniel stopped waking up in the middle of the night expecting to hear his mother’s voice singing from the kitchen or his father’s footsteps in the hallway.

Auntie Rebecca lived in a large duplex in a quiet town, with flowers lining the driveway. Her husband was hardly around—always off on business trips to Port Harcourt or Abuja—but when he did come home, he greeted Daniel with a firm handshake and a quiet nod. He wasn’t the affectionate type, but he wasn’t hostile either.

Her three children —Timothy, the eldest son, was fourteen years old; Vanessa, the only daughter, was twelve; and Tochi, the youngest boy, was just six years old —welcomed Daniel with a kind of innocent curiosity that melted over time into genuine friendship. They gave him space at first, speaking gently around him, not forcing any conversation. But after a few weeks, they started pulling him in—into card games in the parlour, into football matches at the compound, into shared jokes about their teachers and TV shows. Slowly, Daniel laughed again.

Auntie Rebecca wasn’t perfect, but she tried. And somehow, her trying made a difference.

She cooked good meals—pepper soup on rainy days, egusi soup with lumps of meat on Sundays, and fried rice with grilled chicken on weekends. She let Daniel take second servings without blinking. She asked if he needed anything, and listened when he actually answered.

She even took all four kids out once a month—to the mall, to see a movie, or just for ice cream at Shoprite. Daniel would sit by the window during those drives, watching the city rush by, his chest a little lighter than it was the day before.

She introduced him as “my son now,” placing her hand on his shoulder and smiling proudly. People would nod with sympathy and approval. She made sure he wore clean, ironed clothes. She paid for his POST UTME lessons and purchased the application forms for Imo State University without hesitation. Knowing his dream of becoming a medical doctor, she encouraged him never to let that dream fade.

But she also told everyone how much she was “carrying.”

“Daniel needs love and peace right now,” she’d say, often loudly, to visitors or neighbours. “That boy has been through a lot. He’s like another child to me.”

Daniel heard her say it more times than he could count. Sometimes it felt like a performance, like she needed everyone to know how good she was being. But even when it felt rehearsed, the care behind it was still real.

She didn’t hit him. She didn’t insult him. She didn’t make him feel like a mistake. And in a world where everything had once collapsed in a single day, that meant something.

Some nights, he’d find Vanessa waiting in the parlour with a bowl of boiled rice. “I sensed you'd be hungry because you didn’t eat dinner,” she’d say. “At least eat this.”

Other times, Timothy would drag him outside with a football and say, “You can’t stay indoors all day. You need to have some fun too, so it doesn’t affect your well-being. Come on, let’s go play ball!”

And little Tochi would burst into his room without knocking, hold out his toy, and say, “Play with me or I’ll have to pull your hair.” And he always did.

It wasn’t perfect. There were days the grief still swallowed him whole. Nights he cried quietly into his pillow, pretending to be asleep when someone knocked. Moments when someone would say, “Your parents would be so proud,” and he’d nod, smile, then go into the bathroom and fall apart.

But it was better than being alone.

In this new house, Daniel found a kind of rhythm. A kind of hope. His parents were gone—but their love hadn’t died. It was just... showing up in new ways.

At first, it was subtle. The change crept in like a shadow, slow and silent.

Weeks turned into months, and the warmth that once lived in Auntie Rebecca’s home slowly died.

The smiles faded. The tone of her voice hardened. The gentle touch was gone.

Auntie Rebecca stopped him from watching programs on the television because he never recharged the Netflix account.

“You can only watch movies when your mates are busy hustling,” she said sharply, eyes glued to her phone.

It started with this small restriction, but soon, the neglect spread.

While her children had freshly made jollof rice, soft plantains, and chilled juice, Daniel was handed cold white rice with palm oil—sometimes with nothing else.

“Eat fast,” she would say, not looking up. “You should be grateful someone took you in. Or would you rather beg on the street?”

Sometimes, there was no food at all. No explanation. No apology. And if he dared ask, the answer came sharp and cold: “So you want to turn my house into a restaurant? Or a charity where you eat without even working for it? Better drink water and sleep.”

Her children, confused by the change, still tried to treat him like their brother. Timothy once sneaked a piece of fried meat into Daniel’s plate. Vanessa brought garri and sugar to his room after he went to bed hungry. Little Tochi even tried to sneak into his room one night to give him biscuits.

But Auntie Rebecca always found a way to block them.

“Tochi! Come and fetch water.”

“Vanessa, go and study your books and now—before I change it for you.”

“Timothy! Don’t you have homework? Why are you always in Daniel’s room?”

She said it with a smile, but her eyes always watched.

Watched Daniel.

Watched her children.

Watched every movement, like a warden in a prison.

Then the phone calls started. Low whispers behind closed doors. But Daniel heard.

“He’ll inherit nothing. They left debts, not wealth.”

“The house is already on the market. It’s not his. Never was.”

“Abeg, I didn’t sign up to raise somebody else’s ghost child.”

Daniel never asked questions, but he knew. He saw the way she counted every grain of rice he ate, how she locked the fridge now, how his things started missing—one by one.

Then came the news.

His parents’ house was gone.

Seized.

The bank said unpaid loans.

The business failed.

His father’s partners stopped calling. Instead, strangers came—knocking, shouting, threatening.

“They owed us millions!”

“Tell whoever is in charge now that we’ll be back with lawyers!”

Auntie Rebecca didn’t say a word in their defense. She didn’t even blink.

That evening, Daniel returned from his POST UTME lessons, drenched from the rain, to find his clothes scattered across the living room.

Auntie Rebecca stood over the mess, her face tight with anger.

“You’re cursed!” she shouted. “Ever since you came into this house, things started breaking down. Businesses failed. Debts came. My life has not known peace!”

Daniel stepped back, confused, hurt. “But I didn’t...”

Before he could finish, the slap landed sharply on his left cheek—hot, loud, and sudden. The sting spread quickly, making his eyes water.

“You think you can talk back at me? Me? In my own house?” She raised her hand again, and this time, she quickly picked up the broom and brought it down hard across his back.

“Wizard! You’re sucking life from this home like a parasite!”

He broke down instantly, tears streaming freely as he trembled under the pain.