Novels by Yaa Adwubi Gyimah

Raquel, is everything alright?” Nelly’s voice cut through my daze, her playful tone now edged with real concern. “You’re acting strange.”Her fingers tapped a light, insistent rhythm on my shoulder. “Hello? Who is that? Cat got your tongue?”I finally managed to unstick my throat. “Nelly, that is Frank.”“Which Frank?” she pressed, leaning closer to the window for a better look.“How many Franks have we personally known?” I retorted, my eyes still glued to the figure now confidently approaching our front door.She gasped, pulling back to stare at me. “Wait a minute. Don’t tell me you’re talking about Frank Asamoah. Your ex-boyfriend. The guy who shattered your heart into a million pieces during our final year?” She searched my face for confirmation, her own filling with disbelief.“Yep,” I breathed out, the word sounding hollow. “That’s him.”“I remember when you first met him,” Nelly murmured, her gaze drifting back to the window, a nostalgic smile touching her lips. “That vacation e

CHAPTER FIVEThe tension in the room was a physical presence, thick and suffocating, sharp enough to cut. A deafening silence swallowed the space where Frank’s damning words still seemed to echo. Nelly’s hand was frozen over her mouth, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and stunned admiration for my audacity.I stood rooted before Michael, the empty glass clutched in my white-knuckled hand, my chest rising and falling with ragged, furious breaths.I watched a storm of emotions break across Michael’s face, shock, white-hot anger, utter humiliation. His body went rigid, a statue of coiled fury, his right fist clenched so tightly the tendons stood out on his forearm. Then, as if a steel curtain fell, he masked it all behind an unnerving calm. The control was more terrifying than the rage.He took slow, deliberate steps toward me, closing the distance until only inches separated us. I could feel the faint, mint-cool breeze of his breath on my heated skin. He loomed, using his height t

Two weeks had passed since I first laid eyes on Michael. My husband mentioned he was traveling around the country, reconnecting with extended family and childhood friends. I couldn't say I was anything less than relieved. With him gone, the house had settled back into its familiar, gentle rhythm. I was finally enjoying the peaceful atmosphere again, a sense of normalcy I had feared was permanently disrupted.Given our last explosive encounter, the idea of a normal mother-son relationship was a fantasy. Who was I kidding? He would never see me as a maternal figure not with barely a handful of years between us. I hadn’t signed up for this silent war when I married Kwame, but perhaps it was an inevitable price for the happiness I’d found.My thoughts were shattered by a familiar, impatient knocking on the bathroom door. “Hurry up, honey, or I’m going to be late for my lecture!”“I’m almost done! Just a second!” I shouted back, quickly rinsing my face.I wasn’t attending his class today,

Hello, stepmom. Nice to meet you.”I looked down to see Michael’s outstretched hand, large, elegant, and steady. My own felt suddenly clammy. I discreetly wiped my palm against the fabric of my dress before accepting his grip. His hand was warm, his hold firm and brief, yet it sent an unwelcome jolt up my arm.“Are you okay?” he asked, his tone smooth, but sarcasm dripped from each syllable.I cleared my throat, pulling my hand back as if touched by a live wire. “I’m fine, thank you,” I replied, forcing a thin smile.He gave me an arrogant smirk, his dark eyes glinting with undisguised amusement. He knew. He could see right through my fragile composure and the frantic rhythm of my pulse in my throat.“Dinner is ready. We should head to the dining hall,” I blurted, turning away to lead them, striving to keep my voice light and normal. I called for Ama to take Michael’s luggage upstairs, my words a little too rushed.A familiar, comforting weight settled on my waist. I turned to find my

CHAPTER ONEI sat in his office and cried my eyes out, desperate for help. My semester fees were still unpaid, which meant I couldn’t register for any courses. I hadn’t slept properly in days, the dark shadows under my eyes were proof enough. I had been everywhere, asking everyone, but every door had closed.My lecturer, Dr. Yeboah, cleared his throat, looking uneasy, as though vulnerability was a language he didn’t speak.“Why are you crying?” he asked, a hint of concern breaking through his usual reserve.I wiped the tears streaming down my face with the back of my hand. “I need help, Doctor. My mother passed away just before I entered university, and the friend who took me in is now bankrupt. I can’t pay my fees… I can’t register this semester.” My voice trembled as I spoke, soft sobs punctuating my words.“Raquel, your father, can’t he help?” he asked, his brow furrowed.I lifted my head. “I never had a father. I don’t even know what he looks like.”The truth that I was completel