Episode 5: The Day Everything Got Out of Hand
I tried to avoid her again.
After the day she showed me Chinedu’s room and asked me to “pretend to be him,” I told myself she was grieving, not thinking straight. Maybe I had triggered old wounds. Maybe it was time to change apartments.
But I didn’t have the money. And deep down, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to leave.
It was like something was keeping me there.
Not just pity.
Not just fear.
Something… I couldn’t explain.
The Call That Changed Everything
It was a Friday afternoon. I had just returned from school when my phone rang. It was my girlfriend, Ada, who was schooling in Anambra. We hadn’t spoken in a while.
“I’m coming to Enugu next weekend,” she said. “I miss you.”
I froze. “You want to come here?”
“Of course! I can stay the weekend. You said your landlady is nice, right?”
My heart skipped. Nice? That word suddenly felt wrong. I imagined Ada stepping into my small room. Seeing Mrs. Uche. The tension. The unspoken things.
“Uh… yeah,” I said. “She’s nice.”
I didn’t know what else to say.
The Visit
When Ada arrived, I met her at the park. We took a keke back to the house. She was excited, asking questions, holding my arm. But the moment we walked into the compound, the air shifted.
Mrs. Uche was standing outside her flat, arms crossed, her wrapper tied tighter than usual.
She smiled politely — but it didn’t reach her eyes.
“Good evening, ma!” Ada greeted with a bright smile.
Mrs. Uche nodded stiffly. “Evening.”
That was it.
I helped Ada settle in. My small room suddenly felt like a matchbox. That night, we played music on my phone, ate suya and laughed. She slept on my bed while I managed the floor.
But sometime around midnight, someone knocked on the door.
Three soft knocks.
I knew who it was even before I opened it.
The Confrontation
“Mummy…” I whispered, stepping outside and gently closing the door behind me.
She stared at me, arms folded across her chest. “So this is her?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
Her eyes narrowed. “The one you never told me about?”
I sighed. “Mummy, I didn’t think it mattered.”
“It matters,” she snapped. Her voice was trembling, not with anger — but with something worse: betrayal.
“I welcomed you into my house. I fed you. I cared for you. I showed you my pain!”
I looked around, worried that neighbors might be listening. “Please lower your voice.”
But she didn’t.
“You were supposed to fill a gap,” she said, voice cracking. “Now you bring another woman into his room?”
That was when it hit me.
She wasn’t confusing me for her son anymore.
She was seeing me. As someone else entirely.
“Mummy,” I said softly, “I’m grateful for everything. But I never led you on. I never—”
Tears welled in her eyes. “You’ll regret this,” she said. “You think you understand loss? You don’t. But you will.”
And just like that, she turned and walked back into her flat.
Trouble at Dawn
The next morning, Ada woke me up in a panic.
“She came here early,” she said, trembling. “She told me I had to leave. That I wasn’t ‘safe’ here.”
I ran outside — but Mrs. Uche’s door was locked. Bolted from inside. No response to knocks.
I had no choice.
Ada packed her bag and left that morning, confused and shaken. I watched her go, knowing something had broken that night — something that couldn’t be repaired.
