The moment Somto whispered that name, everybody inside the sitting room stiffened like cold water just touched their skin. Chidinma’s mother quickly adjusted her wrapper and looked at her daughter who was still seated on the floor, her wedding gown already stained and rumpled. Chike’s eyes narrowed, his hand tightening around the boy on his lap as the knock landed again, louder this time, shaking the weak door hinges.

Nonso’s voice came from outside, sharp and angry. “Open this door before I break it!”

 

Chidinma’s heart jumped. She dragged herself up, holding the edge of the chair for balance. She wanted to open, but fear pinned her feet. Her mother hissed and moved forward, muttering that it was better to face shame once than to let the whole compound gather again because of noise. She pushed the door aside, and there he was—Nonso, his shirt half-open, sweat covering his face, with his parents and two of his uncles standing behind him like a council of judges.

Taste the Goodness: EL Blends All-Natural Cold-Pressed Juices

He didn’t wait to be invited. He entered straight, his mother following close, pointing at Chidinma like she was pointing at a thief. “So you’re hiding here? You have finished disgracing my son in church, now you hide inside your mother’s house as if you did nothing. God will judge you!”

Chidinma opened her mouth but words refused to come. She bent her head, tears already filling her eyes.

 

Nonso’s father, an elder with a bald head that shone under the bulb, cleared his throat. His voice was deep and carried weight. “Chidinma, we did not come here to fight. We came to hear from your mouth. Who is that man that claimed you as wife in front of everybody? Speak the truth now.”

Chike stood immediately, shifting their son to his shoulder. His face was strong but his voice carried pain. “I am that man. My name is Chike, and I am her husband. They buried an empty coffin three years ago because I was taken away by wicked people. I have come back for my wife and son.”

 

The room exploded. Nonso’s mother shouted first, slapping her thighs. “Lie! Big lie! You are a ghost or you are sent to spoil my son’s destiny. If you truly died, then remain where you went. You will not come back and destroy what we built here!”

Nonso raised his hand. “Mama, enough.” His eyes turned to Chidinma. “But you—Chidinma—did you know? Did you keep me in the dark all this time? I need to hear it from you.”

Chidinma shook her head quickly, stepping closer. Her voice cracked like dry wood. “Nonso, I swear, I didn’t know. They told me he died in an accident. They showed me the coffin. I mourned him with my whole heart. I thought I was free.”

 

Nonso’s eyes lingered on her, soft for a second, then hard again. His mother hissed loudly and dragged his arm. “Don’t be fooled. This woman has disgraced you. Leave her here with her so-called ghost husband.”

The uncles nodded in agreement, whispering about abomination and shame. Nonso pulled his arm away but didn’t speak again. He simply walked out, his shoulders heavy, leaving his family to continue throwing words at Chidinma until they finally left too.

 

That night, silence filled the sitting room but it was not peace. It was heavy, tense silence. Chike sat by the window, staring into the darkness as if he could see back into the years he lost. At last, he spoke, his voice low. “They took me on the road to Lagos. I was beaten, tied, and thrown inside a small room for months. I don’t know who sent them, but I know it was not ordinary. The men were paid. They told me someone wanted me gone forever.”

Chidinma gasped and turned to him. “Who? Who would want that?”

Chike shook his head. “I don’t know yet. But I suspect greed. Maybe somebody who didn’t want me alive so they could take what I had. My land, my business, even you.”

 

His words scattered her mind. She sat back slowly, trying to remember all the whispers from that period, the way some relatives behaved strangely during his burial, the quickness with which certain properties were shared.

Later, Somto sat near her and spoke in a low voice. “Sister, I don’t know if I should say this… but that year, after they buried him, I overheard two elders arguing in the night. They said Chike’s death was not natural, that the story of accident was arranged. I was young, so I kept quiet, but now…”

His voice trailed off. Chidinma held her chest, struggling to breathe. Could it be true?

 

By morning, the whole community was buzzing. Some people swore Chike was lying, that he was an impostor. Others believed him and said it was a miracle. Everywhere she turned, eyes followed her, whispers rose and died.

Then it happened—market square. Nonso and Chike faced each other. The crowd gathered fast, pushing to see. Chike carried his son, standing tall, while Nonso burned with anger. Words flew, hard and sharp, until one push led to another, and fists lifted in the air. The boy cried loudly, screaming, “Stop! Stop!” but they didn’t hear him.

 

Chidinma ran into the middle, her voice breaking as she begged them to stop. The crowd pressed closer, some cheering, some shouting, until the elders rushed in to separate them. Both men were held back, breathing heavily, eyes red with pain.

Then, in the middle of the commotion, one old man from the crowd shouted a name—loud and clear.

“That is the person who made sure Chike never returned alive!”

 

The whole place went silent.