“Chidera, are you there?” It was my dad's voice, this time.

I pressed my hand over my mouth.

My cheek was against the cold floor, and from underneath the bed, all I could see were their feet.

My father's brown shoes.

Her slippers.

“Maybe she's in the bathroom,” my stepmother said.

My father moved away from the door.

“Chidera?”

I stayed still.

I could hear them moving around the room.

My father's wardrobe opened.

The bathroom door creaked.

Then my father's footsteps moved towards the hallway.

“She's not here.”

“Check downstairs,” my stepmother said.

They left the room.

I heard them going down the stairs.

I stayed under the bed.

I didn't know what would happen if they found me there.

I didn't even know why I was hiding anymore.

I just knew that I was scared.

I counted.

One.

Two.

Three.

I got to one hundred and started again.

One.

Two.

Three.

Sometimes I lost count and started over.

My hand was still holding my iPad.

I looked at it.

The screen was still on.

I opened the picture I had taken earlier.

It wasn't very clear.

I had taken it quickly because I was scared of being caught. I wanted to remember how everything was arranged so I could put my stepmother's things back after searching through her bag.

I zoomed in.

There was my stepmother's purse.

Some receipts.

Her little perfume bottle.

A lipstick.

A folded handkerchief.

I moved the picture around with my finger.

Then something caught my attention.

Beside the purse was something brown.

It looked like an envelope.

And beside it was something else.

Just a little corner showing.

It looked like a picture.

I zoomed in again.

The picture became blurry.

I tried again.

Nothing.

I couldn't tell what it was.

I stared at it for a while, then gave up.

My back pocket poked because of the key I had kept there earlier. I brought it out and stared at it for a while.

I wondered what it opened.

Maybe it was for a drawer.

Maybe a cupboard.

Maybe something in her room.

I didn't know.

I looked at the picture on my iPad one more time before locking the screen.

I was tired of hiding.

I was about to crawl out when something touched my right foot.

I froze.

It felt like paper rubbing against my skin.

I reached backwards with my hand.

Nothing.

I felt around the floor.

Still nothing.

I stretched my leg a little further.

There.

My fingers touched something.

I pulled it towards me.

It was a piece of paper.

I couldn't see what it was properly from underneath the bed.

I held it in my hand and finally crawled out.

I stood up slowly and dusted my knees.

Then I looked down.

It was a photograph.

I almost dropped it.

For a few seconds, I just stared at it.

Then I wondered how it had gotten under the bed.

I hadn't seen it when I crawled under there.

Maybe...

I thought about when I had been searching through my stepmother's bag.

The key.

Maybe I had moved something.

Maybe the picture had fallen out and I hadn't noticed.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

The photograph looked familiar.

I opened my iPad again.

I went back to the picture I had taken of the bag.

I zoomed in.

There.

The brown envelope.

And beside it, that little corner.

I looked at the photograph in my hand.

Then at the picture on the iPad.

Then back at the photograph.

It looked like the same thing.

My heart started beating faster.

I turned the photograph over.

There was something written at the back.

A date.

It was from before I was born.

I turned it over again.

There were three people in the picture.

My father.

My mother.

And my stepmother.

I knew my mother from the pictures in the family closet.

I knew my father too.

But my stepmother looked different.

Her hair was different.

Her face looked younger.

But I knew it was her.

I stared at the picture.

Why was she standing with my mother?

I didn't understand.

Nobody had ever told me that they knew each other.

I heard footsteps outside the room.

I quickly slipped the photograph under my shirt.

Then I picked up my iPad and pushed it under the pillow.

I put the key into the pocket of my shorts.

“Chidera!”

I jumped.

“I'm here!”

My father appeared at the door.

“Where have you been?”

I looked at him.

“Playing.”

“Playing where?”

“Outside.”

He frowned a little.

“I've been looking everywhere for you. Don't disappear like that again. You scared me.”

I nodded.

“Sorry.”

He looked at me for a moment, then turned towards the door.

“Come downstairs. Dinner is ready.”

I followed him, keeping my hand over the photograph under my shirt.

I wanted to ask him about Mummy.

I wanted to ask him about the key.

I wanted to ask him why my stepmother had a picture with my mother.

But I remembered how I had tried to tell him things before and how he would always be busy or tell me there was nothing to worry about.

So I didn't bother.

“Daddy?”

He turned.

“Did you know Mummy before she died?”

He stopped for a second.

Just for a second.

Then he looked at me.

“Why are you asking?”

“I don't know. I just wanted to know.”

He gave a small smile.

“Go and wash your hands. Your food is getting cold.”

I nodded and went towards the bathroom.

I didn't understand why he hadn't answered me.

I only knew that there were things in our house that nobody had told me about.

And somehow, I had just found one of them.