Preordained #ProjectNigeria

47- Not Mine

Nwanyieze, please come back.

The feeling in my chest increases it's intensity, and I find myself loosening the top buttons of my shirt, trying to get more air.

This is what fear feels like.

I haven't had these anxiety attacks in years; but over the course of three days I've had at least three. My whole body is tense, and involuntarily, I begin to grind my molars together while cracking my knuckles.

Keep breathing. 5-2-5.

Somto had taught me to deal with this, she had advised me to breathe in deeply for five seconds, hold for two seconds, and exhale for five seconds. In the first few years of adjusting to living with my new family, I had experienced nightmares and panic attacks. Separation from Nwanyieze had worsened the case because she was all I had come to care about at the orphanage. With time, I had accepted that she had gone into a loving family and hoped that maybe, one day, we would meet again.

And Fate worked it all out, except that life hadn't been as good to her as it had been to me. Whatever it is that had happened to her, had made her a tough little woman with a dark past, a lot of attitude, and bad memories.

But I still love her. And I have my own demons.

I hear the gate creak. A figure approaches, and I see a feminine outline in a light coloured gown. I can't tell the exact colour of the gown, or the features on the face, but I know it's her. I remain seated, partially covered by the leaves of the mango tree.

"Where are you coming from?" I demand when she is walking past the tree, oblivious of my presence.

She jumps and turns, but remains standing in the open. "From out."

"Sass is the last thing I need from you."

Nwanyieze stands her ground when I walk out from under the tree and cover the distance between us. She smells of firewood smoke and sweat, and the fact that these scents are coming from her makes me stir.

"I'm coming from out," she repeats.

Firmly, I take her wrist. "Do you know how crazy I've been, searching all over the village for you?"

"Oh. I saw your car pass me a few times, but I didn't know you were searching for me."

"Don't start this, please."

She tries to free herself, but I don't budge. I have to know, to understand what the problem is.

"I went out. I wanted to explore."

"Without telling me?"

She makes a small sound of amusement. "Am I your child, Maduka? Didn't I come back safe and sound?"

Oh, God. What is this one now?

"Nwanyieze, you do not know this place. You're not supposed to just get up and go out without letting me know! I was worried sick. I haven't eaten all day because of you, I have searched the whole compound, I have turned to a mad man in a car, searching this village for you. And now you come back in the night, throwing attitude my way and expecting me to be cool about it?"

"I'm sure there are better things to worry about. Maduka, your grip is getting tighter and will start to hurt soon."

Quickly, I release her and she heads towards the bungalow without another word, leaving me confused.

I'm sure there are better things to worry about.

Like what?

My phone rings again and I answer it, ready to bark at Tasha.

"I'm having an abortion," she wails over the phone.

Deep breaths. "Tasha, you are hysterical right now. Take a few days to think this through. Read up on the dangers of abortion. I'll call you later, I'm busy right now okay?"

Mads, I'm pregnant.

I'm sure there are better things to worry about.

My phone was on the bed upon my return to the bungalow . It hadn't been underneath the pillow. And afterwards, Nwanyieze had disappeared.

Please God, let it not be what I think it is.

"She said she's not hungry," Daa Ndidi tells me in her kitchen. But she hands me a tray of food: boiled yam, red oil, pepper and onion sauce, and fried fish. "Settle yourselves and eat. She is upset."

I thank her and carry the tray to my bungalow- it still feels odd, referring to it as mine.

Nwanyieze does not look up when I enter the room; she is curled up in a ball on the bed, her back to me.

"The baby is not mine," I say.

No reply.

"Did you hear me?"

Silence.

I walk around the bed to her side and raise the arm she used to cover her face. She peers up at me, her eyes expressionless. Just like the last time she had discovered Tasha's underwear in my room, there is no emotion on her face. It's like the windows of her soul are closed and no one, not even me, can get in without a fight. The look scares me, because I can't tell what she's thinking or what she'll do next.

I don't want her to withdraw from me like she did that night. The pain of that rejection had been too much.

"Tasha is not pregnant for me."

She tries to turn away, but I am not allowing that. I have to make it clear; she has to focus on me. I cup her face with my palms, I make her look at me.

"She is pregnant for her boyfriend. Believe me, nothing happened between us. I swear it, I am not a two-timer. It's just you. Only you."

"I'm scared," she manages to say. Her lower lip trembles and her guard slips, giving me a glimpse of the turmoil inside her. The tears fall freely, and Nwanyieze starts to sob.

"Me, too," I tell her softly.

"Maybe this isn't meant to be."

"Don't you dare. Don't you dare."

But she allows me to pull her from the bed into my arms anyways, and I hold her against me like a baby. She cries on my shoulder.

Its always one step forward, two steps backwards.

A/N: Happy birthday to layla_bookaddict !

S/o to sarahtoo for giving me the idea for the last sentence x

Btw, s/o to Africanliterature. They have an African books award going on. Don't forget to nominate your girl, lol.