“I am pregnant for your father, and he says the house in Lekki now belongs to me.”

“I am pregnant for your father, and he says the house in Lekki now belongs to me.”

​The bowl of garri slipped from my mother’s hands. It shattered on the tiles, splashing cold water and soaking her wrapper. She didn’t scream. She didn’t even move. She just stared at Bolatito, my best friend, the girl I brought into this house three years ago when her parents kicked her out.

​Bolatito stood in our living room wearing my mother’s favorite silk robe. She looked at the gold watch on her wrist, a watch my father, Chief Segun, bought for her while telling us he was at a “business retreat” in Abuja.

​”Seyi, say something!” my mother finally whispered, her voice shaking. “Tell this girl to stop lying before I slap the devil out of her.”

​I looked at the floor. My heart was thumping against my ribs like a trapped bird. “Mummy, she’s not lying. Dad bought her the apartment in Surulere last year. He even paid for her Master’s degree.”

​My mother’s face turned gray. “You knew? You knew your father was sleeping with your best friend? My own daughter?”

​”He promised to buy me the car I wanted, Mummy!” I shouted, tears stinging my eyes. “He said if I kept quiet, he would send me to London for my PhD. If I told you, he said he would cut both of us off and leave us with nothing! I did it for us!”

​The air in the room felt thick. My mother looked at the man she had been married to for twenty-five years. Chief Segun walked down the stairs, looking calm in his white agbada. He didn’t look ashamed. He didn’t even look at my mother. He walked straight to Bolatito and put a hand on her shoulder.

​”Funke, don’t make a scene,” my father said coldly. “Bolatito is carrying the son you could never give me. After three girls, I need a replacement. I have already contacted the lawyers. You have two weeks to pack your things and move to the village house.”