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125
Bu Kun
Student @ Adekunle Ajasin University of Akungba, Akoko
SILENT CRIES
<p><br></p><p>Zainab... Zainab... I could hear my mom calling my name.</p><p><br></p><p>I had always been a quiet, observant child—too smart for my age, people would say. My mom called me an old witch sometimes, half-joking, because I always seemed to know things others didn’t.</p><p><br></p><p>Maybe I really was an old witch... too smart for a child.</p><p><br></p><p>"Yes, Mommy," I replied.</p><p><br></p><p>"Zainab, how many times have I told you to obey your dad?" she yelled.</p><p><br></p><p>"He's not my dad," I replied coldly.</p><p><br></p><p>"As far as he is my husband, he is your dad," she snapped.</p><p><br></p><p>I wanted to tell her everything I was keeping buried deep inside. But she was never around. Always working. Always busy. Rarely home.</p><p><br></p><p>My real dad died when I was very young—just five. A drunk driver hit his car while he was coming home from work. I was what my mom called a daddy's girl. Maybe that’s why I grew up too fast.</p><p><br></p><p>After he died, my mom worked two jobs to keep us going. I understood, but that didn’t make it easier.</p><p><br></p><p>Everything changed when my mom brought Uncle Debo home.</p><p><br></p><p>"Zainab, I’ve heard a lot about you," he said the first time we met.</p><p><br></p><p>He was a family friend—someone I’d first seen at my dad’s funeral. Afterward, he started visiting more often. He was always smiling around my mom, helping out, playing the charming guest.</p><p><br></p><p>On my 12th birthday, my mom told me they were in a relationship. A few months later, they got married. Just like that, he became my stepdad.</p><p><br></p><p>One evening, my mom called.</p><p><br></p><p>"Zainab, I won’t be coming home today. I’m working late, but your dad will be home soon."</p><p><br></p><p>He arrived just a few minutes after the call.</p><p><br></p><p>"Zainab, my love, I got something for you," he said.</p><p><br></p><p>"But I’ll only give it to you if you sit on my lap."</p><p><br></p><p>I hesitated. Something about the request made me uncomfortable. But I sat.</p><p><br></p><p>He smiled, told me how much he loved me, and fed me the cake he brought.</p><p><br></p><p>It wasn’t the first time he said he loved me. But something about that night felt... off.</p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p><br></p><p><br></p>
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