I turned around. Standing at the entrance of the kitchen were my two eldest children, now teenagers. My son, Obinna, who was only three when I left, was now eighteen. Next to him stood my seventeen-year-old daughter, Ada.
They didn’t look at Kenneth or Chika with respect. They looked at them with pure disgust.
“Mom?” Ada choked out, tears instantly streaming down her face. She ran past her father, throwing her arms around my neck. “Mom, you’re finally home! Please don’t let them lie to you!”
Obinna stepped forward, his fists clenched, his eyes locked on his father. “He didn’t manage anything, Mom. The moment you built this house eight years ago, he moved Auntie Chika in. They told us that if we ever told you the truth on the phone, they would stop paying our school fees and kick us out. They used your money to build Chika’s family a compound in the next village!”
I held my daughter tight, my heart breaking into a million pieces, but a cold, hard rage began to take over the sorrow.
I looked at Kenneth. I looked at the gold watch on his wrist—a watch I had sent him for his birthday two years ago. I looked at Chika, wearing a lace wrapper that I had purchased with my hard-earned savings.
“Get out,” I said, my voice dead and cold.
Kenneth forced a laugh, trying to regain his footing as the man of the house. “Amara, be reasonable. You can’t just throw me out. I am your husband. This is my village, and this house belongs to this family.”
“This house belongs to me,” I corrected him, stepping forward until he had to back away. “Every brick, every tile, and every piece of furniture was paid for by the wire transfers under my legal name. The farmland you bought? The deed is in my name because I insisted on it before I sent the final payment. I trusted you to hold the papers, Kenneth, but I never signed them over to you.”
Chika stepped forward, tears finally spilling from her eyes. “Big sister, please, where will we go? We have nowhere to take the baby!”
“You should have thought about that before you put on my clothes and sat in my chair,” I hissed, pointing a trembling finger toward the open gate. “Take your child. Take your things. If both of you are not out of my property by sunset, I will call the village elders and the police. I have fifteen years of bank receipts proving exactly who owns every blade of grass on this compound. Let’s see how the village looks at a thief and a traitor when they have no money left to bribe them.”….
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