Chapter 2 - THE ROOM BEHIND THE HOUSE
"UNCLE!"
Stella's scream brought Mr. Adamu running.
He found Clara on the floor.
For several seconds, he simply stared.
Then instinct took over.
"Clara!"
He knelt beside her.
Her skin was burning.
"Get water!"
Stella ran.
Mrs. Adamu appeared in the doorway.
"What is all this noise?"
"She's unconscious."
Mrs. Adamu folded her arms.
"She was walking perfectly well when she cooked breakfast."
Mr. Adamu turned toward his wife.
"She's burning with fever."
"Then give her medicine."
"She needs a doctor."
The sentence changed the room.
Mrs. Adamu stared at him.
"A doctor?"
"Yes."
"Do you know what hospitals cost?"
Stella returned with water.
"Dad, please."
Mr. Adamu looked at Clara again.
His face tightened.
"Call the driver."
Mrs. Adamu stepped forward.
"For her?"
Mr. Adamu stood.
"She's my brother's daughter."
"And what exactly did your brother's daughter remember about this family when she went out and got pregnant?"
"Not now."
"Then when?"
"Not while she's unconscious!"
For the first time since Clara's pregnancy had been discovered, Mr. Adamu raised his voice at his wife.
Mrs. Adamu fell silent.
But the look she gave Clara wasn't concern.
It was something else.
Something Stella noticed.
Fear.
At the clinic, the doctor confirmed Clara was severely dehydrated, feverish and physically exhausted.
She needed rest, medication, proper nutrition and monitoring.
"And the pregnancy?" Mr. Adamu asked.
The doctor looked at him carefully.
"She's pregnant, yes. But stress and malnutrition are not helping."
Mr. Adamu shifted uncomfortably.
"How far along?"
"Approximately twelve weeks."
Twelve weeks.
Mr. Adamu calculated silently.
Then he looked toward Clara.
She was awake now but barely speaking.
The doctor turned to her.
"Clara, I need to ask you some questions privately."
Mrs. Adamu immediately objected.
"She's a child living under our roof."
"She's nineteen," the doctor replied. "And she's my patient."
Mrs. Adamu's jaw tightened.
Everyone left except Clara.
The doctor sat beside her.
"Are you safe at home?"
Clara hesitated.
That hesitation said more than an answer.
"Has anyone hurt you?"
Clara looked toward the door.
"No."
The doctor waited.
"Clara."
"No," she repeated.
"Do you know who the baby's father is?"
Clara's eyes filled with tears.
"Yes."
"Does he know?"
Another pause.
"Yes."
"Is he supporting you?"
Clara turned her face away.
The doctor didn't force her.
But outside, Mrs. Adamu stood close enough to the door to hear one sentence.
Yes.
Clara knew who the father was.
And he knew about the pregnancy.
Mrs. Adamu's face went pale.
That afternoon, Clara returned home with medicine.
Mr. Adamu told his wife Clara would be allowed to rest for two days.
Mrs. Adamu agreed surprisingly quickly.
Too quickly.
Stella noticed.
That night, Stella sneaked food into Clara's room.
Clara was lying under a thin blanket.
"I brought rice."
"You shouldn't."
"I don't care."
Clara managed a weak smile.
"You'll get in trouble."
"Then I'll get in trouble."
Stella sat beside her.
"Clara?"
"Hmm?"
"Who is the father?"
Clara's smile vanished.
"You don't have to tell me. I just... everybody talks like you don't know."
"I know."
"Then why don't you tell them?"
Clara stared toward the window.
"Because sometimes telling the truth doesn't save you."
"What does that mean?"
"It means there are truths people will hurt you to keep hidden."
Stella frowned.
Before she could ask another question, footsteps sounded outside.
She jumped up.
"I have to go."
Clara caught her wrist.
"Thank you."
Stella smiled.
After she left, Clara reached beneath the mattress.
She pulled out the envelope.
She had discovered it weeks earlier among her father's belongings.
Her name wasn't on it.
Neither was Mrs. Adamu's.
It was addressed to Mr. Adamu.
Her father had apparently written it shortly before he died.
Clara had never opened it.
She didn't know why.
Perhaps because opening something written by a dead person felt too final.
That night, however, she broke the seal.
The first sentence made her stop breathing.
"Brother, if anything happens to me, Clara must never be left at the mercy of your wife."
Clara sat upright.
She continued reading.
Her father's handwriting became shakier toward the bottom.
He wrote about money.
Property.
Documents.
And a disagreement Clara knew nothing about.
Then she reached one sentence that made her blood run cold.
"She already knows what belongs to Clara, and I am afraid that if I die before settling this matter legally, she will convince you to hide it from my daughter."
Clara covered her mouth.
There was more.
A bank account.
A house.
Land.
An insurance policy.
Her father had left provisions for her.
So why had everyone told Clara there was nothing?
Her hands trembled.
Then she read the final paragraph.
It mentioned Mrs. Adamu by name.
And underneath it was a handwritten note:
"Ask Stella's mother what happened on August 14."
Clara stared at the date.
August 14.
She knew that date.
It was the day before her father was hospitalized for the final time.
Suddenly there was a knock.
Clara shoved the letter beneath her pillow.
The door opened.
Mrs. Adamu stood there.
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
Mrs. Adamu's eyes moved toward Clara's pillow.
For one terrible second, neither woman spoke.
Then Mrs. Adamu smiled.
It was the first smile she had given Clara since discovering the pregnancy.
But there was nothing warm about it.
"Get some rest," she said softly.
She closed the door.
Clara waited.
Outside, Mrs. Adamu stood motionless.
Because she had seen the corner of the envelope.
And she recognized it.
That night, while everyone slept, Mrs. Adamu returned to Clara's room.
But when she searched beneath the pillow, the envelope was gone.
Clara had hidden it somewhere else.
Mrs. Adamu stood in the darkness, breathing hard.
Then a voice behind her whispered:
"Mom?"
Mrs. Adamu spun around.
May you like
Stella was standing in the doorway.
And for the first time, Stella understood that her mother's hatred toward Clara had never been only about the pregnancy.
