Obina’s jaw tightened. This is not about throwing away sense. I love her. His mother gave a short bitter laugh.
Love? Since when did love become enough for marriage in a family like this? Chief Ama finally spoke, his voice low.
Let him finish. Mrs. Zifoma sat back down reluctantly. Oena then explained everything. The first meeting, the way Amara was treated, the truth about her parents, the lies in that house, the way he had come to know her.
His mother was still not moved. All I am hearing, she said, is trouble. That kind of background brings trouble, but Chief Amika kept listening quietly.
A few days later, without making noise about it, he decided to visit and see things for himself.
When he got there and met Amara, he noticed two things immediately. The first was that the girl was naturally respectful, calm, and decent.
The second was that something about that house was wrong. He saw it in the way Amara stood slightly apart, like someone used to taking permission with her own breath.
He saw it in the way auntie Yugoi watched her too closely. He saw it in the tension under the smiles.
By the time he left, Chief Amecha was no longer looking at Amara as just a poor girl from a difficult home.
He was looking at her as a good girl surrounded by something unjust. And though he did not speak his full thoughts immediately, one thing had begun to change.
Obina no longer stood alone. But his mother, Mrs. Epha Eza, was still not convinced.
Chief Maker had returned from the visit with a troubled mind. He had seen enough to know that something was wrong in Uncle Cheek’s house.
He had also seen enough to know that Amara was not the kind of girl people could dismiss carelessly.
She was calm, respectful, and carried herself with quiet decency. But Mrs. If was not ready to accept that for her, love was not enough.
Background still mattered. Family still mattered. The home a girl came from still mattered. So when Oena told them again that he wanted to marry Amara, Mrs.
Zoma looked at him and said, “I will go and see her myself.” Oena agreed at once.
He thought maybe if his mother met Metamara, she would understand. He did not know that Auntie Ugotchi was already preparing something else.
Word reached the compound that Oena would be coming with his mother. The moment Auntie Ugotchi heard it, her mind began to move quickly.
If this visit went well, Amara could rise in a way she had never wanted.
The rich family could take her away. Kioma could lose the one chance Auntie Ugochi believed should belong to her daughter.
So that morning, for the first time in a very long while, Auntie Yagoti called Amara in a softer voice.
Amara? Amara turned in surprise. Yes, Auntie. Auntie Yagotchi held out some money. Take this and go to the market.
Buy rice, tomatoes, pepper, onions, oil, and meat. The visitors are coming today. You will cook.
Amara stared at the money as if she had heard wrong. You want me to cook?
She asked quietly. Auntie Yugoi frowned a little as if she was already tired of the question.
Yes. Is there a problem? No, auntie. Then go quickly. Amara took the money with both hands.
Her heart began to beat fast. For once, she did not see the instruction as another burden.
She saw it as an opportunity. Maybe this was her chance. Maybe if Oena’s mother tasted her food, saw her respect, and watched how she carried herself, something good would happen.
Maybe this would help her future. Maybe this was the day she could prove that she was not useless, not a burden, not the bad thing Auntie Yugochi always called her.
She hurried to the market with real hope in her chest. She chose everything carefully.
She checked the tomatoes one by one. She picked fresh pepper, good onions, clean rice, and the best meat the money could cover.
Every decision mattered to her. She was not just cooking food. She was trying to cook her way into a better life.
Back at the house, she washed the rice well, blended the pepper, cut the onions, seasoned the meat, and worked with all her heart.
That day, even as sweat gathered on her face in the kitchen, there was a quiet joy in her.
Kioma noticed it and did not like it. Auntie Ugosi noticed it too and hated it.
When the food was almost ready, Amara stepped away briefly to rinse a tray and bring clean water from inside.
The kitchen was empty for only a short moment, but that was enough. Auntie Yugosi slipped inside, looked once over her shoulder, then quickly lifted the pot cover.
Her face was cold. She poured in too much salt. Then, as if that was not enough, she added too much pepper, too.
Not the kind of mistake a person makes by accident. The kind done on purpose.
She stirred lightly, covered the pot again, and stepped out before Amara returned. A little later, the sound of a car entered the compound.
Obina had arrived with his mother. Mrs. Eyma came down from the car, looking neat and composed.
She carried herself with the quiet pride of a woman used to respect. Her eyes moved carefully around the compound before settling on the people coming to welcome her.
Uncle Cheek greeted her warmly. Auntie Ugosi smiled too quickly. Kioma stood nearby already arranged and dressed to be noticed.
Then Amara came out. She had changed into her best simple clothes. Nothing expensive, nothing loud, but she looked neat, decent, and respectful.
She bent slightly as she greeted. Good afternoon, Ma. Mrs. As if looked at her for a second and nodded, “Good afternoon.”
Amara did not raise her eyes too much. She only stood quietly, then stepped back.
Obina noticed the difference immediately. Amara looked nervous, but hopeful. That alone made him both proud and protective.
The visitors sat down. A few polite words were exchanged. Uncle Cheek spoke more than necessary.
Auntie Yugosi kept smiling too hard. Chioma sat in a way that made sure she could not be ignored.
But Oena’s mother was not paying much attention to Kioma. Her eyes kept returning to Amara.
She noticed the girl’s quietness. She noticed the respect. She noticed the way Amara stood with care as if one wrong move could bring trouble.
Then Auntie Ugotchi said, “Amara, bring the food.” Amara quickly went inside and brought it out with both hands.
She set everything carefully. The rice looked good. The stew smelled rich. To anyone looking from the outside, it was a well-prepared meal.
Obina took the first spoonful. The moment the food touched his tongue, his face changed.
He stopped chewing. Mrs. Ifa tasted hers, too. At once, she coughed. The food was terrible.
Too much salt. Too much pepper. It was not just bad. It was impossible to eat.
The air in the compound changed immediately. Auntie Yugosi jumped into the moment like someone who had been waiting for it.
Ah, she cried. What is this? Amara froze. Mrs. Ifomma set down her spoon, her face tight.
Obina looked from his plate to Amara. Auntie Ugochi rose halfway from her seat and began shouting, “Amara, what kind of nonsense is this?
Are you trying to disgrace us?” Amara’s lips parted. Auntie, I do not speak. Auntie Yugochi snapped.
You cannot even cook ordinary food for visitors. Uncle Cheek looked uncomfortable but said nothing.
Shioma lowered her face slightly to hide the satisfaction in her eyes. Amara stood there confused and shaken.
She knew what she had cooked. She knew it had not tasted like this. Still, in that moment, the whole compound was looking at her as if she had ruined everything.
Auntie Ugotchi picked up the spoon and pushed it toward her. Taste it. Amara’s hands shook as she took the spoon.
She put the food into her mouth. The taste hit her immediately. Her eyes widened.
The food was badly spoiled. Salt and pepper sat in it like punishment. Tears rushed into her eyes at once.
She knew she had not cooked it that way. But how could she prove it?
She stood there in front of everybody holding the spoon like a child being punished for a crime she did not commit.
It’s as if Aoma rose to her feet. Obina, she said shortly. Let us go, Mom.
I said let us go. Obina stood up slowly, disturbed and confused. He looked once at Amara.
She was still standing there with tears in her eyes, too shocked even to defend herself.
He knew something was wrong. He just did not yet know how deep it was.
Mrs. Ephoma turned and walked toward the car. Auntie Yugosi quickly followed with fake apologies.
Please don’t be offended. The girl disappointed us too. We did not expect such nonsense.
I have always known she was useless, but not to this extent. Mrs. Ifa did not answer her.
She entered the car. Obina followed. As they drove away, Auntie Yugosi stood in the compound with secret victory rising in her heart.
She believed she had won. Inside the house, Amara went into her small room and sat down heavily on the bed.
Then she began to cry, not loud crying, the kind that breaks quietly inside the chest.
She had wanted that day to mean something good. Instead, it had turned into another public shame.
Back in the city, the silence in the car lasted for a long time. Obina gripped the steering wheel tightly.
At last, he said, “Mom, that was not normal.” Mrs. Eyoma looked out the window.
