I Disappear From Lagos

I did not go back to Chidi's office.

I did not go to his wedding.

I disappeared.

The morning after the chemist shop, I woke up at 4am. My mother was already frying akara. The smell filled our small compound in Onitsha. The compound where I grew up. The compound where I dreamed of becoming a lawyer.

I packed one small Ghana-must-go bag. Two wrappers. One Bible. The pregnancy test. And the wedding invitation I tore into pieces.

"Mama, I am leaving Onitsha," I said.

My mother stopped frying. Oil was popping.

"Where are you going, Amara? Chidi will come and look for you. He will come and apologize."

I laughed. A bitter laugh.

"Mama, Chidi will not come. He gave me N50,000 to abort his child. He said I will embarrass him at his wedding. I am not going to wait for a man who threw me away like pure water sachet."

"So where?"

"I am going to my grandmother's village in Enugu. Nobody knows me there. I will stay there until I give birth. I will work. I will survive. I will not beg Chidi Eze for one naira."

My mother held my hand. Her hands were rough from years of frying akara.

"My daughter, your father died when you were 5. I sold my gold to send Chidi to school. I will not let you suffer alone. Take this."

She pressed N20,000 into my hand. It was all the money she had from selling akara that week. Money for her drugs. Money for food.

"Mama, no. You need it for your drugs."

"Amara, you are my drug. If you die, I die. Go. And promise me one thing: You will not kill yourself. You will live for this baby. And one day, you will come back to Lagos and show Chidi Eze that the girl he called a maid is now a queen."

I promised. I hugged her. I entered the bus to Enugu.

The bus was 5 hours. I sat by the window, holding my belly. 2 months pregnant. Nobody could see it yet. But I could feel it. A small life inside me that Chidi said should be aborted.

A woman beside me was eating gala and La Casera. She offered me one.

"You look sad, my sister. Is it man problem?"

I nodded. Tears fell.

"My sister, listen to me. Men will break your heart. But a child will never break your heart. Keep your child. Work hard. One day that man will kneel."

I arrived Enugu in the evening. My grandmother, Mama Nnukwu, was 80 years old, blind in one eye, but strong like rock.

"Amara! What are you doing here? Did Chidi beat you?"

I told her everything. University. 3 jobs. Gold. Pregnancy. Abortion money. Wedding invitation.

My grandmother did not cry. She stood up, went to her small room, brought out a small wooden box.

"Amara, open it."

Inside the box was a gold bangle. Old. Heavy.

"Your grandfather gave me this when we married. I have kept it for 60 years. Sell it. Use it to start a small business. Don't go back to Lagos to beg. Start here."

I sold the bangle for N150,000. With that money, I rented a small kiosk in Enugu market. I started selling akara and pap, like my mother taught me.

Every morning, 4am, I woke up. Pregnant. Vomiting. Frying akara. Customers laughed at me. "Pregnant girl frying akara, where is your husband?"

I said, "My husband died." It was easier than saying, "My boyfriend is a billionaire CEO marrying an heiress in Eko Hotel."

At night, I cried. I missed Chidi. I missed the boy who used to hold my hand in University of Lagos and promise me heaven. Where did that boy go? When did he become a monster?

But in the morning, I wiped my tears and fried akara again.

Month 3. Month 4. Month 5. My belly grew. My business grew. From one kiosk to two kiosks. From akara to akara + provisions.

I was saving every naira. I had a plan. I would not stay in Enugu forever. I would go back to school. I would finish my law degree. I would become a lawyer. I would build a company. And I would make Chidi Eze regret the day he called me a maid.

Then one day, in Month 6 of my pregnancy, something happened that changed everything.

A woman came to my kiosk. She was wearing a big hat, big sunglasses. She looked rich. She looked familiar.

"Give me akara, N500," she said.

I gave her akara. She looked at my belly. She looked at my face. She removed her sunglasses.

It was Sophia Adeyemi. Chidi's wife-to-be. The heiress.

"Amara Okafor?" she whispered. "Chidi's maid?"

My heart stopped. My hand was shaking. The hot oil was popping.

What was Sophia Adeyemi doing in Enugu market? How did she find me? Did Chidi send her to kill my baby?

Sophia smiled. A cold smile.

"So you did not abort it. You kept it. Interesting. Chidi told me you aborted it. He lied."

She dropped N10,000 on my table.

"Keep the change. And keep your baby. Because in 5 years, that baby will be the reason Chidi Eze loses everything."

She turned and walked away, into a black Range Rover.

I stood there, frozen, holding akara in one hand, holding my belly with the other.

What did she mean? Why would Sophia help me? Was this a trap? Or was Sophia also a victim of Chidi Eze?