The day Zaria's father returned was unusually quiet. The wind seemed to hush the village whispers, and the sky remained a dull grey all morning. Zaria, barefoot and thin as a reed, was crouched by the fire, boiling beans for lunch. She hadn't been informed of his arrival—no one ever told her anything good.
But Sarah knew. In fact, she had been waiting for this day.
Ever since Zaria topped the district in PLE, Sarah had felt a shadow creeping over her control. The girl's success had drawn attention, and attention brought questions—dangerous questions. Then, when the pregnancy rumors began, Sarah saw an opportunity not just to damage Zaria's name, but to destroy her completely.
She welcomed her husband with warmth and fake smiles, serving him tea and sugar-coated biscuits—things Zaria only dreamed of touching. And once the cup was empty and his eyes softened with weariness, Sarah struck.
"I didn't want to tell you this, but it's gone too far," she began with a sigh, her eyes carefully avoiding his. "Zaria has brought shame to this family."
He blinked slowly. "What do you mean?"
"She got pregnant," Sarah said, lowering her voice like it hurt her to say it. "She got pregnant during the holidays… probably while running around pretending to sell baskets."
His expression tightened.
"I tried to be silent," she continued, dabbing fake tears from her eyes with her lesu. "But it was all over the village. People laughing at us. Saying the best PLE girl is now just another village girl with no morals. And… and when she realized she was pregnant, she aborted the baby."
His face went pale.
"She did what?"
Sarah nodded gravely. "Abortion. I found out too late. I couldn't stop her. She could've died, but God is still merciful. Now she walks around here like nothing happened. No shame."
He slammed the table. "That useless girl! After everything I've done for her!"
Zaria, still in the backyard, heard the bang. Her heart jumped. She knew the sound of trouble. Minutes later, she was summoned.
"Come here!" her father barked.
She stepped in, her eyes low. She hadn't seen him since that terrible night he slapped her and called her ungrateful. And now, his presence made her legs feel like sticks.
"You dirty disgrace!" he shouted the moment she entered. "Pregnant? And now aborting? Do you think this is a brothel or a home?"
Zaria's eyes widened. "Wha—what?"
Sarah stepped behind her husband, pretending to weep.
"I didn't—"
Before she could defend herself, his hand flew across her cheek. "Don't talk back to me!"
Zaria fell to the floor, more from shock than the slap. She looked up, shaking. "Papa… it's not true…"
"I don't want to hear your lies!" he growled. "You wanted to embarrass me? Sleep with boys and still expect me to pay for your school?"
"I didn't get pregnant," Zaria cried, voice trembling. "I didn't… I've never even—"
"Get out of my sight!"
Zaria crawled backward toward the doorway and then ran outside. She collapsed near the banana trees, burying her face in her arms.
Sarah watched through the curtain, smiling. She had won again.
From that day, her father refused to speak to her. He avoided her presence in the house and instructed Sarah to "keep the prostitute busy." Sarah did more than that. She increased Zaria's chores, made her scrub the latrine twice a day, and sent her deeper into the forest to fetch firewood where snakes and thorns lay waiting.
Zaria's body ached, but her heart ached more. She hadn't just lost her only parent—she had lost the final thread of dignity she held onto.
Her paternal grandparents were long gone. Her father had been their only child. Her maternal grandparents had passed away too, shortly after her mother left when Zaria was still small. As for uncles and aunts, they all avoided her like she carried a curse.
She once tried to visit her maternal aunt, Mama Peace. When she knocked on the door, Mama Peace came out and looked her over, disgust written all over her face.
"You're the one they say got pregnant?" she sneered.
"It's not true," Zaria whispered. "I just need help. I want to go back to school."
Mama Peace waved her off. "Go home. I don't want village women saying I'm encouraging spoiled children. You should have thought of school before lying on your back!"
The door slammed in her face.
Zaria stood there, stunned, her lips trembling. Then she walked away, the weight of rejection digging deeper into her soul.
That evening, Sarah announced mockingly in front of everyone that Zaria had tried to 'seduce' relatives into pitying her.
"She thinks she can cry her way into people's homes," Sarah chuckled. "But everyone knows the truth. Filthy girl."
Claire Rina laughed. "I saw her walking like a dog today."
Zaria no longer reacted. Tears had become useless. Her body carried her like a broken shell, surviving only because it didn't know how to give up.
Linda, though still kind, was being watched more closely. Her mother forbade her from seeing Zaria after hearing the pregnancy and abortion rumors. But Linda snuck short visits whenever she could.
"I believe you," she whispered one day, handing her a piece of roasted cassava behind the store.
Zaria smiled faintly. "Thank you for that."
"I know you didn't do what they said," Linda added. "One day the truth will come out. You'll see."
But Zaria wasn't so sure anymore. Sometimes, a lie repeated enough times becomes the truth—at least in the eyes of everyone else.
She dreamed of her mother often now. Dreams where a gentle hand wiped her tears, where a soft voice whispered, I'm sorry I left you… But then the morning would come, and she'd wake up to firewood, water jerrycans, and silence.
Every day became a test of how long a broken girl could stand. And every night became a silent prayer for a miracle.
But if miracles were real, they seemed to have forgotten Zaria.