He would rub my shoulder and say, “If you help Mama now, God will help us later.” I wanted that blessing, so I transferred.
It became a pattern.
Every month, Mama’s legs were swollen again. Every month, Mama needed tests. Every month, Mama needed prayers that sounded expensive.
Sometimes Emeka would show me photos as evidence.
Α blurry foot. Α hospital corridor. Α hand holding rosary beads. I didn’t look closely because I didn’t want to be the suspicious wife.
When I offered to visit Mama myself, Emeka discouraged it.
He said the village was stressful. He said my work was too important. He said Mama didn’t like “too much disturbance.”
