Chapter Three

"Francesca… Rachel is crying again.”

 The voice was heavy with fatigue, carrying through the corridor into the bedroom. Tobi leaned against the doorframe, his hair disheveled, his broad chest bare, the weight of sleeplessness etched into the droop of his shoulders.

 Rachel’s cries echoed from the adjoining room—sharp, unrelenting wails that carried both need and stubbornness. She was a child who had learned that the sound of her voice could bend the world around her, a lesson children of her age never forgot.

 Francesca, sitting on the edge of the bed, ran a hand through her dark curls and let out an exaggerated sigh. She was beautiful in the way that drew eyes on the street, her figure slender, her skin radiant, but at that moment her expression was anything but tender.

 “She’ll stop,” she said flatly. “Just ignore her for once.”

 Tobi’s eyes narrowed, disbelief flickering across his face. “Ignore her? She’s been crying since dawn. I told you yesterday—she doesn’t play with anyone apart from her pet. And even that can’t console her anymore.”

 Francesca crossed her arms, her lips twisting into a pout. “So what do you want me to do? I’ve tried, haven’t I? I fed her, bathed her, sang to her. She still wants her mother. It’s not my fault.”

 The word mother stung him, sharp and unavoidable. He hated how true it was. Rachel had always reached for Chisom. No matter how much he tried to bridge the gap, his daughter’s heart seemed to know a truth he could not change.

 “Don’t say it like that,” he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You knew what you were stepping into when you chose me, Cesca. Rachel is part of me. She needs love, not complaints.”

 Her eyes softened for a moment, but only a moment. “And what about me? Do I not need love too? Every day, it’s Chisom this, Chisom that. Do you even see how much it hurts me? Do you see me at all, Tobi?”

 The tension in his jaw tightened. He wanted to speak, but Rachel’s wailing cut through the silence, more urgent this time. He couldn’t stand it any longer.

 Without another word, he turned and strode down the hall to Rachel’s room.

 The door creaked open, revealing his little girl standing at the edge of her crib, tiny fists clenching the wooden bars, her cheeks stained with tears. Her stuffed rabbit lay abandoned on the floor, kicked away in her frustration.

 “Daddy…” she whimpered the moment she saw him. Her little hands reached out desperately.

 His heart melted instantly. Crossing the room in two strides, he scooped her into his arms, pressing her damp face into his chest. “Shh… it’s okay, angel. Daddy’s here.”

 Rachel clung to his neck, her cries subsiding into hiccups. Her small fingers gripped him as if she feared he might disappear if she let go.

 “You miss Mummy, don’t you?” he whispered into her hair, the faint scent of baby oil rising to his nose.

 At the mention of Mummy, Rachel’s head bobbed in a tiny, sorrowful nod.

 Tobi closed his eyes. The ache in his chest grew heavier. No matter how much he tried, no matter how many toys he bought or stories he read, he could not compete with the absence of Chisom.

 Carrying Rachel back to the living room, he found Francesca standing by the window, arms still folded, her body stiff with indignation.

 “She wants Chisom,” he said simply.

 Francesca’s scoff was soft but sharp. “Of course she does. She always does.”

 “Don’t start.” His tone warned her, though his voice carried exhaustion rather than anger. “I’ll call Chisom. Rachel needs her. We’ll meet at the beach. Maybe the fresh air will calm her down.”

 Francesca turned, eyes wide with disbelief. “The beach? With her? Are you serious? Tobi, do you even care what this is doing to me?”

 He adjusted Rachel in his arms, brushing her curls away from her damp face. “Francesca… this isn’t about you, or me, or Chisom. It’s about Rachel. She’s our daughter, and right now, what she needs is comfort. If you can’t understand that, then maybe…” He stopped himself, biting the words back before they could wound further.

 Francesca’s lips trembled. For a second, vulnerability shone through—the fear of being second best, the shadow of Chisom always hovering between them. But instead of softening, she masked it with defiance.

 “Fine,” she said coldly, grabbing her bag from the dresser. “Do what you want. I’m not coming.”

 Tobi’s jaw tightened. He wanted to chase after her, to argue, to make her understand, but Rachel whimpered in his arms, grounding him in the reality that mattered.

 He kissed his daughter’s forehead and whispered, “Don’t worry, angel. We’ll go see Mummy soon.”

 And for the first time all morning, Rachel smiled.

 _______________

 The sun was still bright over Tarkwa Bay when Tobi arrived at the beach with Rachel balanced on his hip. She wore a frilly yellow sundress and a wide smile, her little hand clasping the edge of his T-shirt. Francesca trailed behind them, adjusting her sunglasses, the hem of her light wrap fluttering with the sea breeze.

 Rachel had been living with them for weeks now, and Tobi had grown used to her constant chatter, her sleepy murmurs at bedtime, her sticky fingers from sweets, and the sudden little hugs that always caught him off guard. She had become his shadow — his heartbeat, even. But today was different. Today he was bringing her back into a space where her mother would be waiting.

 “Daddy, is Mommy here?” Rachel asked, wriggling with excitement.

 “Yes, my star,” Tobi said, kissing her cheek. His chest tightened, though he hid it with a smile. “Mommy is waiting. Do you miss her?”

 Rachel nodded fiercely, curls bouncing. “So much. I want to hug her and not let go.”

 Francesca glanced at Tobi from behind her shades. “She’s been counting down the days, you know. Every morning she asks, ‘Is today the day I see Mommy?’” Her voice was light, but there was something in it — a quiet reminder of the invisible weight Tobi carried.

 As they neared the checkered mat spread out on the sand, Rachel suddenly spotted Chisom. She didn’t even wait for Tobi to put her down. She squirmed out of his arms and dashed across the sand on her tiny legs.

 “Mommy!”

 Chisom barely had time to kneel before Rachel threw herself into her arms. The little girl buried her face in her mother’s chest, inhaling deeply as if she could drink in every ounce of her scent. Tears pricked at Chisom’s eyes as she wrapped her daughter tight, swaying gently.

 “My baby,” Chisom whispered, kissing her hair over and over. “My sweet baby girl. Mommy missed you too.”

 Rachel clung harder, refusing to loosen her grip. “Don’t let go, Mommy. Don’t go away again.”

 The sight cut Tobi open. He had carried Rachel every day for weeks, had wiped her tears, cooked her breakfast, told her bedtime stories — yet with one hug, it was as though he vanished from her world. His place in her heart was real, yes, but not the same. A mother’s bond was something he could never compete with.

 Emelia watched quietly, her chest heavy. She felt August shift beside her, his smile fading at the rawness of the moment. Francesca, on the other hand, crossed her arms, her lips pressed in a thin line. She adored Rachel, but watching her cling so desperately to Chisom made her feel like a temporary placeholder in a story where she could never truly belong.

 “Easy, nne,” Chisom murmured as Rachel tightened her hold. “Mommy’s here now. You’re safe.”

 But Rachel only shook her head and pressed her cheek harder against her mother’s shoulder, her little hands clutching as if she feared letting go would make Chisom disappear again.

 And Tobi — standing a few steps away — could only watch.

 The beach was alive with colors — kites cutting across the sky, children chasing one another near the shoreline, music floating from a nearby suya stand. The Echezona family had spread out a mat beneath a wide umbrella, their cooler nestled in the sand, packed with Francesca’s careful cooking.

 But Rachel refused to leave her mother’s side.

 She sat on Chisom’s lap as if she’d been welded there, nibbling chin-chin with sticky fingers. Her small hand kept reaching up to touch Chisom’s cheek, almost to reassure herself that her mother was truly here.

 “Rachel, don’t you want to build a sandcastle?” Tobi asked gently, crouching nearby with a brand-new plastic bucket and shovel. His voice carried hope, soft and deliberate, like a hand stretched out in the dark.

 Rachel turned, glanced at him — then buried her face in her mother’s chest. “No. I want to stay with Mommy.”

 Tobi’s smile faltered. His fingers tightened around the bucket handle.

 Francesca, busy arranging plates and napkins, gave a short laugh. “She’s really glued to you, Chisom. Almost like she forgot the rest of us exist.” Her tone was smooth, but the bitterness laced every word.

 Chisom ignored the comment. She shifted Rachel slightly and rose, brushing sand from her wrapper. “Alright, nne. If you want to build, Mommy will build with you.”

 Rachel’s eyes sparkled as she tugged her mother toward the shoreline.

 Tobi followed close, heart hammering. He knelt in the wet sand beside them, showing Rachel how to pack the bucket and turn it upside down. The sand slumped at first, then held. Rachel squealed, clapping her hands.

 “Mommy, did you see?!”

 “I saw, my darling,” Chisom said warmly, crouching beside her daughter, helping shape the second tower.

 Her voice was music, but not for him. Not anymore.

 Tobi stayed silent, pressing the sand carefully with his hands, stealing glances at her profile as the sun lit her face. He longed for her to look at him, to acknowledge his presence — but she never did. Every smile was for Rachel. Every word was for Rachel. And every time Rachel pul

led her close, Chisom leaned into it like it was the only bond that mattered.

 It was deliberate. He could feel it. She wasn’t forgetting him — she was choosing not to see him.