Chapter 6 The Return
When Martha walked into the school compound that morning, it was like she'd never left.
Her new bag swung lightly on her shoulder, her shoes gleamed like mirrors, and the scent of coconut oil trailed her hair. Everything about her screamed fine. Her aunt had made sure of that.
"Tell anyone who asks that you went to visit your sick mother," the woman had said, eyes sharp like knives wrapped in sugar. "You mustn't let people poke their noses into our family business. You understand?"
Martha nodded. What else could she do?
So, when Mrs. Lilian spotted her at the gate and exclaimed, "Ah, my dear Martha! You just disappeared o! I'm so glad you're back," she smiled. "Her smile was practiced, small, and perfect."
"Yes, ma, I went to stay with my sick mother for a while," she said. Her voice didn't shake. It was almost impressive how easily a lie could sit on her tongue now.
By the first break, she was laughing with her classmates again. The schoolyard buzzed with the usual chatter: girls swapping meat pies, boys bragging about who could dribble better, and Amanda giggling about how her crush had finally waved at her in the corridor.
Martha listened, laughed where she had to, and pushed the weight in her chest somewhere far away. For a moment, she even forgot. Forgot the smell of her aunt's perfume in the dark, the weight of her hands, the ache that came with silence.
The girls' gossip soon took its usual turn from teachers' funny quirks to boys' smiles, to the warm, confusing feeling that came with crushes. "Butterflies," Joy called them, fluttering her hands near her stomach. They laughed till they cried, heads knocking together.
For a fleeting second, Martha thought maybe I could stay here forever. Maybe I never have to go home again.
But the laughter shifted. It always did.
Amanda, the loudest of the group, leaned closer, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Have you people heard that story? That man and his son that… did that thing to one small girl eight years old o!"
The giggling stopped.
Joy frowned. "Wait, what thing?"
Amanda's eyes lit up with the thrill of gossip. "They said both of them were," she paused, lowering her voice, "touching the girl. Like… you know…
Kemi gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth. "God forbid! People are wicked!"
"Wicked ke?" Joy spat. "They should just drink poison and die."
"Or give them rat poison," Amanda added, half-laughing but half-serious. "So, they'll rot from the inside."
They began to argue, one saying she'd tell the police, another insisting she'd never let her child near a man.
Their voices rose, sharp and judgmental, slicing through the air.
And Martha… sat still.
Her throat tightened as though a hand had gripped it. She tried to laugh along, to nod, to pretend outrage, but the words tasted wrong in her mouth. Her heart hammered so loudly she feared they might hear it.
If they knew!
If only they ever knew!!
She dropped her gaze to her shoes, to the fake shine her aunt had bought to cover what couldn't be seen.
When Mrs. Lilian walked in moments later, the chatter scattered like birds. The students hurried to their seats, the story dying mid-sentence. Martha followed, her movements slow, mechanical.
All day, Lilian noticed the odd quiet. Martha's eyes seemed distant, like she was staring through the walls through time.
So, when the bell rang at closing, Lilian called softly, "Martha, wait behind a bit. I'd like to talk to you."
But Martha froze. Her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted her bag.
"I'm sorry, ma. My aunt said I should come straight home."
Lilian smiled faintly. "Alright then. But next week, I'll be coming to visit. I'd like to see your aunt, okay?"
Martha forced another smile. "Yes, ma'am."
But in her heart, she whispered, there might never be a next week.