Chapter Four

Francesca watched from the mat, sunglasses masking her eyes, though she didn’t miss the ache in Tobi’s posture or the way Chisom shielded herself in silence. Emelia, sitting beside August, noticed too. She couldn’t help but wonder how many unspoken histories were buried in this family — and how many were about to surface.

 The castle grew taller, Rachel squealing each time the tide kissed the base. To passersby, they looked like a picture-perfect family sharing a simple joy. But under the hum of the waves, the truth pressed heavy — one man’s longing, one woman’s refusal, and a child unknowingly stitching them together in ways neither could escape.

 The waves had begun to calm, rolling gently as if the ocean itself wanted to listen. Francesca spread out the cooler’s contents onto the mat — fried rice, grilled chicken wings, plantain, and bottles of malt sweating in the sun.

 “Everybody come eat before the food gets cold,” she called out, forcing cheer into her voice.

 Rachel was still latched to Chisom’s hand, tugging her along like a magnet. They came back together, Rachel’s curls wild from the breeze, her cheeks glowing. She plopped onto her mother’s lap before anyone else could sit down.

 Francesca handed out paper plates one by one. When she reached Chisom, she hesitated, lips tightening. Then she set a plate down for Rachel instead, stacking it with rice and plantain.

 “Here you go, sweetie. Eat up.”

 Rachel looked at the plate, then shook her head. “I want Mommy to feed me.”

 Chisom smiled faintly, adjusting her daughter. “Alright, nne. Open your mouth.”

 She began feeding Rachel, bite by bite, while her own food went untouched.

 Tobi watched from across the mat. He held his plate, but his appetite was gone. Every spoonful Chisom lifted toward Rachel’s mouth pierced him — not because of Rachel’s innocence, but because that same tenderness used to be his. He remembered nights when Chisom used to laugh softly, sharing akara with him from the same bowl, brushing his fingers on purpose. Now she didn’t look at him once.

 “Rachel, you’re a big girl,” Tobi said carefully. “Why don’t you try eating by yourself this time?”

 Rachel pouted. “No. Mommy should do it.”

 “Let her be,” Chisom replied, sharper than intended. Her eyes flicked to Tobi for the briefest second, then away. It was the first acknowledgment all day, and it cut deeper than silence.

 Francesca’s fork scraped loudly against her plate. “Some habits shouldn’t be encouraged,” she muttered.

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” Chisom asked, finally turning her head.

 “Exactly what it sounded like,” Francesca said, slipping on a smile that didn’t touch her eyes. “Rachel’s sweet, but children get spoiled quickly. If you’re not careful, she’ll grow up thinking the whole world revolves around her.”

 Rachel froze mid-bite, looking from one woman to the other. Her little hands gripped Chisom’s wrapper tighter.

 “Don’t talk about my daughter like she’s not here,” Chisom said flatly. Her voice was calm but firm, the kind that brooked no argument.

 The air tightened. The waves kept breaking, but no one spoke.

 Tobi set down his plate, his jaw tight. He wanted to defend Chisom, to say something that would break the wall she had built against him. But he knew if he spoke now, she would only retreat further. So he stayed silent, watching her instead — the way her hand smoothed Rachel’s hair, the way she lifted the spoon gently, as if shielding her daughter from the storm brewing between the adults.

 Emelia, seated beside August, swallowed hard. She felt the heaviness pressing down. This was supposed to be a family outing, a simple day at the beach. But looking at Chisom and Tobi — the distance, the pain, the avoidance — Emelia realized families didn’t break apart with explosions. They cracked in silence, piece by piece, until love was nothing but fragments buried in the sand.

 The sun had begun its descent, painting the sky with streaks of gold and orange. Children’s laughter echoed from further down the beach, but around their mat the mood had sunk heavy.

 Francesca clapped her hands together, brushing off sand. “Okay, let’s pack up before traffic starts building.”

 She began gathering bottles and plates, moving quickly, as though tidiness could erase tension.

 Rachel frowned. She buried her face into Chisom’s chest and tightened her arms around her neck.

 “Come on, sweetheart,” Chisom said softly. “It’s time to go.”

 “No!” Rachel’s voice rang loud enough that passersby glanced in their direction. “I don’t want to leave Mommy. I want to stay with Mommy forever.”

 The group froze.

 Francesca’s jaw clenched. “Rachel, enough. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

 But Rachel only held tighter, tiny fingers digging into her mother’s wrapper. “I don’t want to go back. Mommy, please. Please don’t let me go!”

 Tobi’s chest tightened at the sight. He crouched beside them, reaching out. “Rachel, look at me. Daddy’s here too, remember? You live with me. I’ll buy you ice cream on the way home.”

 Rachel shook her head violently, her curls bouncing. “I don’t want ice cream! I want Mommy!”

 Tobi’s hand hung in mid-air, then dropped to his side. The rejection stung sharper than anything Francesca had said earlier.

 Chisom swallowed hard, torn in two. She stroked Rachel’s back, whispering, “Nne, don’t cry. I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

 “When?” Rachel asked through hiccups. Her wet eyes searched her mother’s face. “Not weeks again. Not months. When?”

 Chisom blinked fast, her throat tightening. “Soon,” was all she could manage.

 Emelia shifted uncomfortably, stealing a glance at August. He had gone stiff, arms folded, as though the scene made him think of their own childless home.

 Finally, Francesca snapped. “Enough is enough. Rachel, get up. You can’t just cling to your mother every time. Tobi, carry her, let’s go.”

 Tobi moved forward hesitantly, but Rachel screamed, clutching her mother’s blouse so hard the stitches threatened to tear.

 “Don’t touch me! I don’t want you! I want Mommy!”

 The outburst cut everyone raw. The waves roared as if echoing the child’s cry.

 Chisom, still seated, held her daughter tighter, whispering frantically to soothe her. But inside, her composure crumbled. For weeks she had kept Tobi at arm’s length, burying her feelings under avoidance and anger. Yet here was their daughter — pure, innocent, desperate — ripping open the wound for all to see.

 Tobi’s eyes shimmered, though he fought it. Francesca crossed her arms, fury burning in her face. And Emelia… she felt an ache she didn’t want to name, because it mirrored her own longing for what she didn’t have.

 The family, once again, stood fractured against the backdrop of a setting sun.

 The afternoon sun had started its slow descent, the golden rays stretching across the beach like fingers reluctant to let go of the day. Children still laughed in the distance, their shrieks carried on the breeze, but for the small group gathered under the wide tree, a hush seemed to fall over them.

 Rachel was curled up tightly in her mother’s arms, her little fingers clutching the fabric of Chisom’s dress as though letting go would mean losing her forever. She had eaten, played, and laughed, but nothing seemed to lessen the weight in her chest.

 “Baby girl…” Chisom whispered softly, brushing strands of hair from her daughter’s face. “It’s time to go with Daddy now.”

 Rachel shook her head immediately, pressing her face deeper into her mother’s neck.

 “No! Mommy, I stay with you. Please.”

 The words broke something in Chisom, but she masked it quickly, kissing the crown of her daughter’s head. She wanted nothing more than to say yes. To take Rachel home, to wake up with her warmth beside her every morning, to braid her hair before school. But life had not allowed that. Not yet.

 “Rachel,” Tobi’s voice came from a few steps away. He was trying to sound patient, steady, but there was an ache underneath. “It’s getting late. We need to go.”

 Rachel ignored him, tightening her hold on Chisom.

 “I don’t want Daddy. I want you!”

 Francesca shifted uncomfortably beside Tobi, her arms folded, her eyes narrowing at the scene. She had prepared for this—the girl always clung to her mother—but watching it happen was something else. It scraped against her insecurities, leaving her silent but simmering.

 Chisom exhaled, her throat tightening. She pulled back slightly, forcing Rachel to meet her eyes.

 “Baby, look at me.”

 Rachel pouted, her eyes wet and wide.

 “You know Mommy loves you, right? More than anything in this world. But you’ll be with me again soon. For now, you need to go with Daddy.”

 Rachel’s lip trembled. “You promise?”

 Chisom’s heart cracked. She smiled through it, nodding. “I promise.”

 Slowly, painfully, she pried Rachel’s hands from her dress and pressed a gentle kiss on each tiny palm. Then, with all the courage she could muster, she passed her daughter into Tobi’s waiting arms.

 Rachel wailed softly, reaching back toward her mother even as Tobi held her close. “Mommyyy…”

 Tobi swallowed hard, his arms instinctively tightening around the child. For a fleeting second, his eyes met Chisom’s. She looked away almost immediately, focusing on the sand beneath her feet, refusing him that moment of connection.

 Emelia watched quietly, her chest tightening. Something about the scene unsettled her. She saw Rachel’s desperation, Chisom’s silent strength, Tobi’s quiet longing—and she couldn’t help but compare it to her own hollow home. She had no child to cling to her, no innocent love to fill her days. Only August’s steady kindness… and the dangerous, lingering heat of Ethan’s touch that haunted her.

 August cleared his throat, sensing the heaviness. “Safe trip, brother,” he said to Tobi, reaching out for a quick handshake.

 “Yea,” Tobi replied quietly, adjusting Rachel, who had buried her face in his chest, muffling her cries. “We’ll talk later.”

 Francesca, her voice colder than she intended, added, “Come on, let’s go before it gets darker.” She didn’t look at Chisom as she said it.

 As they walked away, Rachel’s sobs faded into the distance, but their echo lingered with Chisom. She sat back on the mat, arms folded around herself, as if trying to hold on to the warmth her daughter had left behind.

 For the rest of the evening, her laughter did not return.