THE news about her husband surviving the food incident seemed to have reached Wura, too. But she hadn’t gone looking for him, till he arrived home again.
She went back when he was discharged.
It had been about a week since that Wura incident, and Morrow returned home to meet her there. It seemed she arrived there at the same time as he.
And her only baggage were their kids.
‘Ah my husband—! I heard news that—!’
Morrow only stopped in his tracks to look at her. And his stern gaze seemed to shush her.
For she halted, saw she hadn’t offered a help with his load, then hurried to take the sack.
Morrow gave the baggage to her and held the kids.
She stuttered. ‘Well, I wouldn’t say I never heard—! But you know... you know the distance! I mean—!’
The man simply turned to move. ‘Let’s talk tomorrow, Oji! You too, Daleka!’ (The brothers returned with him that morning.)
Daleka answered first. ‘I’ll bring your lunch first, brother!’
Oji went after him. ‘I’ll send the dinner, too!’
Morrow nodded at them, then took his kids inside.
That moment began the silence that wrecked Wura. As she suddenly felt shame in what she’d flaunted.
She’d been the outsider, and it hadn’t mattered. Now she felt like one in her own home.
She started to feel quite so undeserving. For the first time, she faced herself in this; but she couldn’t stand her.
She dragged the foot behind her first man, followed doggedly, then hated herself.
It seemed she hated everything around, for as soon as she stepped back in her man’s house, she went on a clear offensive.
Yes, she shot cannon balls that mightn’t have ended lives. Still they could raze down a whole future.
They could burn down all of Morrow.
Now it seemed that Wura aimed to drive the gentleman nuts. She wanted him becoming the one unworthy of her.
For she went talking and bringing up petty matters. Nagging him about this and that—just anything.
Until she spilled it that she’d got another man, like what he must be thinking.
And still, Morrow replied nothing.
He spoke to himself.
What does one answer to a woman who started conversation by poisoning?
Well, she’s nagging a dead man now; how can I answer?
I wish she knows I’m not the man she used to know. That man died to these things!
Then at that thought, Morrow recalled the words of the British nurse, Miss Hellen. So it frightened him how things played out.
Look, if you are just anyone, everything that happened would’ve been logical.
But you are God’s own and the seed of God resides in you. You will have a heart like His and His nature, too.
So evil will try to ruin this treasure in you, using whoever makes themself available.
Right then, when those words rolled back in the man’s mind, Wura gave a last shot—a blast of cannon fire.
‘It was I who did it, Moro! That powdered glass in your meal—I know those Whitemen must’ve seen it! It was I who mixed it in your food!
‘Now take your revenge, quick! Get your machete and end me now! Or cut this boy in two, just do something!
‘Why are you killing me slow?! Is this your plan?
‘Or are you not a man? The hero who survived the fatal clash for the throne?
‘Do something, or at least throw me out! Don’t keep on torturing me!’
Morrow looked at her and shook his head. ‘Does it make sense to you talking this with your husband that just returned from hospital?’
‘Huh? Erm...!’
No, that moment saw the lady’s bones flattening out. She felt more out place in her own family as she went to find a seat.
She just stopped and didn’t bring those up again.
So, a couple of mornings and evenings passed and the silence lived on. Still it was an empty kind of quiet – as empty as the grave’s.
Then one cold morning, Wura couldn’t bear the load anymore. So she packed her things and left Morrow.
She took the kids and went back to her new man. And with that, her part was torn out of Morrow’s life.
It was the end of love built on a lie.
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