Amara looked down. “If I lose that too, then what do I have left?” Obina said nothing for a moment.
Then he took the oranges and walked away with even more respect for her than before.
Their meetings at the river continued. The talks became easier. The smiles lasted longer. Obina no longer spoke to her like a man doing charity.
He spoke like a man who had found someone he truly wanted to understand. And Amara little by little began to relax in his presence.
One evening, the sky was turning soft and gold over the river when Obina looked at her for a long time and said, “Amara, I need to tell you something.”
She turned to him slowly. He took one breath. “I love you.” Amara’s fingers tightened around the edge of her basin.
She said nothing. Obina stepped a little closer. “I am not here to play with you,” he said.
“I did not come looking for this, but now that it is here, I cannot pretend.
I love you. I want something real. Amara’s eyes filled at once. Not because she was happy first, but because she was afraid.
Life had not trained her to trust joy. It had trained her to fear it.
She looked away and said softly. Do you know what you are saying? Yes. I am not Ki.
I am not the kind of girl men choose in front of everybody. I know exactly who you are, he said.
And I am choosing you.” Amara swallowed hard. Her voice shook. “It is easy for you to say that now.
But if I believe you and this goes wrong,” she stopped and lowered her head.
“I do not know if my heart can survive it.” Oena’s face softened. “I understand,” he said.
“That is why I am telling you the truth. Not sweet words, not lies. The truth.”
Amara looked into his eyes for a long moment. There was something steady there. Something she had never seen in the eyes of people who spoke to her with pity or cruelty.
And slowly, against the fear that had guarded her heart for years, she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.
Obina’s face lit up with a quiet joy that almost looked boyish. He reached for her hand carefully, as if giving her one last chance to pull away.
She did not. From that day, they were no longer just two people who met at the river by chance.
There were two people building a future in secret. Not long after, Oena told her one evening, “I want to do things the right way.
I want to meet your real family.” Amara’s expression changed at once. The light that had been growing in her eyes dimmed.
Obina noticed immediately. “What is it?” She looked down at the water before speaking. “My parents died in an accident when I was six.”
Obina’s face softened. Amara, I was the only one that survived. She paused, then added quietly, “Uncle Cheek is not just someone who helped me.
He is my father’s younger brother.” Obina stared at her. “What?” She nodded slowly. “He is my real uncle.”
For a moment, Oena did not speak. He remembered clearly the first day he came to that compound.
He remembered asking, “Who is that girl?” And he remembered exactly what Uncle Cheek had said.
That they picked her up out of pity. That she was a burden. That she brought bad luck.
His chest tightened with anger. Everything sounded uglier now. It meant they had hidden her identity on purpose.
It meant they had taken the grief of a child who lost both parents and turned it into a life of shame.
It meant Amara had not only been abused by strangers, she had been abused by her own blood.
Oena looked at her again and what he felt grew deeper than love. This was no longer only about wanting her.
It was now about correcting something terribly wrong. The next day, he went straight to Uncle Cheek’s house.
Uncle Chik welcomed him again, but there was tension in the air this time. Auntie Yugosi came out, too.
Kioma stood not far away. Obina did not waste time. I came to say something clearly, he said.
I want to marry Amara. The room went cold. For a second, nobody spoke. Then Uncle Cheek forced a weak smile.
My son, there are many girls in this world. I know. So why put your eyes on that one?
Uncle Cheek asked. That girl, since she entered this house, things have not moved well.
She brings bad luck. Auntie Yugochi quickly added, “If it is a wife you want, Kioma is here.
She is well brought up. She can run a home. She knows how to present herself.
But Amara,” she gave a small, careless shrug, “She is not suitable.” Inside her small room, Amara heard every word, her eyes filled with tears.
Even now, when happiness had finally knocked on her door, the people who should have protected it were trying to chase it away.
But Obina remained firm. He looked first at Uncle Cheek, then at Auntie Yuguchi. Amara is my choice, he said.
And I do not care what you think about her. Silence. Then he added more coldly now.
What I do care about is this. Why did you lie to me the first day I came here?
Why did you pretend not to know who she really is? Uncle Cheek shifted uneasily.
Auntie Yugosi’s face changed. Oena did not stop. She is your brother’s daughter, he said.
Not some stranger you picked up from the road. No one answered. For the first time, their hypocrisy stood naked in front of someone who would not ignore it.
Obina rose to leave. At the doorway, his eyes met Amara’s for one brief second.
Tears were on her face. But there was also something else there. Hope. When Obina got home and told his parents he wanted to marry Amara, the reaction was not simple.
His mother, Mrs. If Aza, was the first to speak. What did you say? Obina stood calmly in the sitting room.
I said, I want to marry her. His mother stared at him in disbelief. A poor village girl, an orphan.
Obina, do you know what you’re saying? Chief Omega Eza, his father, said nothing at first.
He only watched. Mrs. As if rose from her seat. What about the daughter of Chief Okafur?
What about the families we have known for years? Is this how you want to throw away sense and follow emotion?
