Chidinma did not answer Mama Ronke immediately. She folded the paper with careful fingers and placed it back into the envelope, while Tunde’s eyes moved from her face to his collar, then to his mother, as if calculating which lie would save him first. Mama Ronke dropped her bag on the sofa and stepped forward, already angry, already prepared to blame the broken woman before her. —I asked you a question. What are you hiding in my son’s house? Chidinma stood up, weak in body but strangely steady in spirit. —Truth. Tunde laughed once, but it came out dry. —You have started again. Since that hospital matter, everything is drama with you. His words struck the room like a slap. Mama Ronke nodded with cruel satisfaction. —A woman who cannot keep a pregnancy should at least keep respect. Chidinma’s eyes watered, but she did not let the tears fall. She remembered Kosi’s small hands around the malt bottle, the way the boy had whispered “Aunty, are you okay?” when Tunde ignored her. The child was innocent. That was what made the truth heavier. It was not Kosi she wanted to hurt. It was the proud wall of lies Tunde had built using another woman’s child while mocking the baby Chidinma lost. Tunde moved closer and reached for the envelope. —Give me that. Chidinma stepped back. —You did not care when a doctor told me our baby was gone. Now you want to care about paper? Mama Ronke’s face tightened. —Our baby? Which baby? A real wife would still be carrying it. The words pushed Chidinma to the edge, but before she could speak, Tunde’s phone rang. The screen flashed a name saved as “Bisi Heart.” Mama Ronke saw it. Chidinma saw it. Tunde quickly rejected the call, but a message appeared immediately: “Did you tell her you were with me last night?” The room froze. Mama Ronke looked at her son, shocked not by his betrayal, but by the shame of being caught. Chidinma gave a small, broken smile. —So this is the woman whose perfume enters my home before you do. Tunde raised his voice. —Do not start nonsense in front of my mother. —You started it in front of God, Chidinma replied. Mama Ronke, desperate to recover control, grabbed the envelope from Chidinma’s hand and pulled out the result. At first, she read with irritation. Then her mouth opened. Her gold bracelets stopped jingling. —Tunde… what is this? Tunde snatched the paper and scanned it. The color drained from his face so quickly that Chidinma almost pitied him. Almost. —No. No, this is fake. Chidinma’s voice was calm. —0%. The lab did not whisper it. They wrote it clearly. Tunde shook his head, backing away. —Kosi is my son. Sade told me he was mine. Everybody knows he is mine. I have paid school fees for 9 years. I introduced him to my family. Mama Ronke sank onto the sofa, suddenly smaller than her pride. For years, she had mocked Chidinma for not giving Tunde a child quickly enough, while carrying another woman’s secret as family honor. Tunde turned on Chidinma with panic in his eyes. —Why would you do this? —Because when I lost my child, you laughed. Because when I cried, you entertained another woman. Because you used Kosi like a trophy while treating my pain like comedy. Just then, the doorbell rang. Tunde stood frozen. Chidinma walked to the door and opened it. Outside stood Sade, Kosi’s mother, holding the boy’s school bag, her face tense. Kosi peeked from behind her, confused. Sade looked past Chidinma and saw the paper in Tunde’s hand. Her lips trembled before anyone spoke. Tunde whispered, —Tell me it is a lie. Sade lowered her eyes, and the silence answered before her mouth did.
Part 3
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