Schoolgirl’s Secret
Chapter Nine – The Father’s Pain
The house was too quiet.
Brenda sat at the dining table, staring blankly at a page in her revision book. The words were dancing. Nothing made sense.
Across the room, her father paced. Back and forth. Slowly. No radio playing. No phone calls. Just silence—and the creaking of the floor beneath his weight.
He had come home early. That alone was strange. But what had shattered the air like a bottle smashing on concrete was the envelope he came holding.
A letter from school.
Subject: Academic Performance and Behavioral Concerns – Student: Brenda Namulondo
He hadn’t spoken a word to her since he walked in. Just unsealed the envelope, read the letter silently, and sat still for nearly ten minutes.
Now, he was pacing.
Brenda’s stomach twisted. Her palms were damp. Her body throbbed with fear.
Finally, he spoke—his voice low, flat, and dangerous.
“Brenda.”
She looked up slowly.
“Is there something you want to tell me?” he asked.
She swallowed. “About what?”
He picked up the envelope again, holding it with shaking hands. “Your grades have dropped. You’ve missed assignments. You’ve left early without permission. Teachers say you’re no longer the same girl.”
Brenda looked down.
“Brenda,” he repeated, firmer. “I asked you a question.”
Tears blurred her vision.
“Daddy…” she whispered, “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
He stared at her. “What happened?”
Her hands shook. Her lips moved slowly. “I’m… I’m pregnant.”
Time froze.
His face turned blank. Then disbelief. Then something harder.
“No,” he said, his voice suddenly louder. “No. You—you can’t be.”
“I didn’t plan it,” she pleaded. “I didn’t want—”
“Who?” he snapped. “Who did this to you?”
She paused. “Brian.”
“Who is Brian?”
“He… he was our debate mentor. From the speech network.”
He laughed bitterly. “A university student? Brenda, he’s a grown man!”
Brenda flinched.
“I trusted you,” he said, voice cracking. “I trusted you! I raised you better than this!”
“I’m sorry,” she cried. “Please—I’m so sorry, Daddy.”
He turned away, hands on his head. Pacing again.
“I gave you everything,” he said, almost to himself. “Books. School. A future. And now this?”
“I didn’t throw my future away,” she sobbed. “I just— I made a mistake.”
He turned to her, his face dark with emotion. “A mistake? Do you know what this means for you? For me? Do you know how hard I’ve worked so you wouldn’t become… this?”
His words hit harder than any slap.
She shrunk into the chair, every tear a knife down her cheeks.
Then—silence again.
He walked to the door and stood there for a long moment. “I need to think,” he said.
And he left.
Brenda collapsed onto the table, sobbing into her arms.
In that moment, she didn’t care about school, debate, Brian, or the future.
She just wanted her father back.