Episode 2: The Sin We Hadn’t Committed
After that evening, I stayed away.
Not completely.
Just enough.
No more frequent visits.
No more sitting by the jetty discussing life.
No more helping with every little problem.
I convinced myself it was necessary.
The distance would kill whatever feelings were trying to grow.
Instead, it made them stronger.
Three weeks later, Kuro appeared at my doorstep.
Barefoot.
Crying.
“Uncle Timi.”
My heart dropped.
“What happened?”
“Mama is sick.”
I didn’t ask questions.
Within minutes we were racing through the waterways in my speedboat.
When I arrived, Ebiere was burning with fever.
Severe malaria.
She could barely stand.
I carried her into the boat.
People watched.
Some whispered.
I didn’t care.
The nearest hospital was over an hour away.
Halfway through the journey, armed sea robbers appeared.
Three boats.
My stomach tightened.
Every river traveler feared them.
These criminals terrorized waterways across the Niger Delta.
One of them fired into the air.
The sound echoed across the river.
Ebiere woke suddenly.
“Timi…”
“It’s okay.”
“No,” she whispered. “They’re coming.”
The robbers moved closer.
I accelerated.
The engine screamed.
Water exploded behind us.
Another gunshot.
Then another.
Kuro began crying.
I gripped the steering wheel harder.
If they caught us, nobody knew what would happen.
Money would be the least of our worries.
The chase lasted nearly fifteen minutes.
Fifteen years, it felt like.
Finally we reached an area where naval patrol boats operated regularly.
The robbers disappeared.
I nearly collapsed from relief.
At the hospital, Ebiere was treated immediately.
The doctor later confirmed she would recover.
That night, sitting beside her bed, something happened.
She reached for my hand.
Neither of us spoke.
Neither of us moved away.
The silence said everything.
And that was the problem.
Because deep down, we both knew what was happening.
We were falling in love.
The realization felt wrong.
Almost shameful.
Like betraying a dead man.
I pulled my hand away first.
Ebiere looked hurt.
I stood.
“I should go.”
“Timi.”
I stopped.
“What?”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Why are we punishing ourselves?”
I had no answer.
Because she was asking the same question I had asked myself for months.
