Chapter 7: Ghosts and Old Wounds

Musa Garba waka comot from shadow. Black cloth, black hair, deep eyes—na only him pale skin and red lips get colour. E step slow, as if every pain dey for leg, but pride never finish.

He near, touch my face like say we close. His finger cold, linger for my skin. For small second, I feel old life, old hope.

"The native doctor use my drawing do am, just as fine as before. You like am?"

I slap him hand. The sound sharp, but e just laugh—old mischief dey his face.

He laugh, hold my finger. "No vex. No be better like this? You stand for Shao Daoji front, e no fit know you."

E dey proud, like say e win game. My heart dey twist, pain and small relief mix. The way he hold person na like snake, suffocating.

I dey feel my skin tight, like say I dey trap for old memory. Musa always get this kind hold.

"But I no like that Shaoshan," Musa Garba talk, squeeze my palm. "Na wahala I take get you comot palace, how you take land for another Shao hand, dem carry you back, even wan marry you? Who be him sef?"

Jealousy dey his eye, but pain pass am. Musa dey struggle for inside too.

I cold, dey look Musa Garba. I dey remember all the pain, all the trust wey break. My voice low.

"At least, he give me choice—not just lock me inside coffin without asking."

Truth dey bitter. Musa face change, like say slap touch his soul. Musa Garba eyes dark. Shadow deep for corner. I dey see regret, anger, and fear blend.

"Na so e good?"

E voice dey shake small. Pain dey choke am. He tilt head, laugh small, like craze dey catch am. His laughter sharp, then quiet. Silence heavy. After the slap, breathless hush fill the room. My mind flash back to the time Musa and I dey run for palace corridor as children—barefoot, laughing, before all the wahala start. Pain press my chest.

"But you still lie give am. You dey use am to go Umuola, and when time reach, you go drop am just like you drop him papa. No be so?"

E dey press me, but I no fit defend myself. Guilt dey tie my tongue. I press my lips, turn face. "No be my fault."

Voice low, weak. Na truth, na lie—my heart no fit know which be which.

That time, Musa Garba plan to carry me comot palace inside coffin too rush. Fight burst for outside capital, all the guards carrying my coffin die. If Musa Garba no give me fake death drug so I no dey breathe, and my face no spoil, dem wrap am with white cloth, my body no for survive for rebel hand.

I dey remember the cold, the darkness for inside coffin. My breath slow, life small like candle wey breeze dey blow. If Musa no act quick, my own for finish.

All the guards die, I no even reach Mangoro Hills as Musa Garba plan. Before I pass out, rebels throw me inside mass grave. Dead bodies dey heavy for my chest. I dey beg God to let me see sun again.

Few days later, rain dey fall, I wake up under dead bodies, almost die. Shao Daoji army enter capital, Shaoshan dey clear dead bodies, na so e find me before native doctor reach.

Rain dey wash blood, memory dey mix. Shaoshan face na first light wey I see after darkness. I use Amina name cover myself. New name, new hope. But pain still dey.

Later, native doctor find me, help me hide from Shaoshan, carry me go mountain to heal. Mountain air dry, cold, but better than palace wahala. I spend days dey heal, dey learn to use new face.

But Amina identity no strong—no paper, no travel pass—and Shaoshan dey visit steady, I no fit run. Musa dynasty don fall, native doctor sef dey hide, no fit help me again. My hiding place no secure. For Naija, person wey no get paper na leaf for wind.

And the person wey make me like this dey act like say e do big thing. Pain dey my chest—na so person fit save you, but still break you.

I push Musa Garba away. I use all my small strength. For once, I want make am feel my pain.

"I treat you well. I see say you dey suffer for traitor hand, dey pretend mad for palace, no hope, you dey call me sister, I pity you, treat you good. And you? Wetin you do me?"

My voice break. For Naija, woman wey suffer fit curse with tears. Musa Garba eyes soft small, but stubbornness no let am bend.

Musa Garba drop hand, stagger back, sneer, voice rough, "You say you no get choice... Me sef, wetin I fit do..."

His pride dey cover pain, but I fit see am dey shake.

Suddenly, he press near, grip my face. His hand cold, but strong. Eye sharp, like say e dey look for inside my soul.

"The husband you dey wait for, wey suppose come carry you, no even care if you dey alive—him army don reach River Niger. Uche Nwosu don craze, only dey find how to finish you for revenge."

His voice bitter, but care dey hide under. My tears dey gather for eye.

His cold eyes dey shine, like cat wey dem abandon for palace. You fit see hunger, pain, but still hope dey struggle inside.

"I wan protect you, make you get new face, get freedom, so fate no go use you again. I wrong?"

He dey beg, but pride still dey. My chest dey tight. In this palace, nobody really free.

For the window, cold mist gather for moonlight, everywhere just cold. Room dey shiver, as if spirit dey dance outside. I hug myself, try breathe.

I close my eyes, tears soak his shaking palm. My voice just dey shake. Sorrow deep, memory heavy.

"I know, I know..."

I talk am like prayer—soft, broken. I just dey talk, dey sob. Cry no dey solve, but sometimes e dey wash small pain.

"I sorry, I just dey fear..."

My fear dey real. Fear of tomorrow, fear of past, fear of myself. Tears dey flow without control.

The husband I trust before don turn stranger, no fit rely on. I wake up as dead person, dey hide, dey lie, dey struggle to reach house, no even sure say my family go know me.

Every memory dey cut—love, trust, home—everything just dey far. No road go back, road ahead dark.

Na so life be for woman wey don lose everything. Na only spirit fit understand. I really dey fear. Na true. For Naija, even strong person fit cry when wahala pass chest.

Musa Garba take deep breath, hug me tight. E hold me like say if e loose grip, I go disappear. For that moment, I feel small peace, small hope.

"No fear, no fear... I promise you two years ago, you remember?"

His voice steady, as if e dey swear for shrine. Old promise, still dey live for his mind.

"I go come meet you soon. We go run comot palace together, start new life. That time, you no go be anybody wife, I no go be Musa family chief."

He dey plan freedom, like say tomorrow fit hear am. I dey wish say e go true.

"I never see outside palace before. You carry me go—anywhere. Umuola, Makurdi..."

E dey list all the places wey hope fit dey. For Naija, every new land fit give new life.

I rest for his shoulder, feel as he thin reach bone. All these years, he never add weight. I spend two years for mountain, dey recover, he sef dey suffer for Shao Daoji hand because of me.

I dey remember all the things wey join us. Pain, hunger, hope, loss—na family of sorrow join us.

He endure, no tell anybody where I dey. I dey respect am for that. For palace, secret dey hard to keep.

But I no fit know right or wrong, I just dey cry, dey fear. Guilt dey press me, I wan curl up. Na so woman fit bend, break, but still survive. I dey pray for small light tomorrow.

I find way to run, but wetin about Musa Garba? My mind dey scatter. If I run alone, Musa fit die. If I stay, I fit die. No balance.

I know say he get sense. That time, even with Uche Nwosu wickedness, he fit gather secret guards. Now, if he wan run, he get way. But trust for this palace na another matter. Spirit of old chief still dey watch.

But my mind still dey shake. I dey hope say tomorrow go soft, but I no dey sure.

Night thick, hope thin—but for Musa arm, I dey pray say tomorrow go show small light. For this palace, only the bold fit dream.