UNSPOKEN

UNSPOKEN.

(FICTION)

Trauma can be a heavy burden to carry, and its effects can be felt for years to come. 

For some, the pain of the past can be a constant reminder of what's been lost. 

But what happens when the truth about our past is finally revealed? 

Can we find healing and redemption, or will the weight of our secrets continue to define us?

That reminded me of how I met my lovely Chidinma, a girl who lived in my street. She was a vision of elegance, with her curvy figure, fair complexion, and dark flowy hair. 

I had always been drawn to her, and I longed to get to know her better.

As I helped my mom at our shop, I would often see Chidinma walking by, her eyes fixed on some distant point. I wondered what could be troubling her, what secrets she might be hiding. 

Despite my curiosity, I couldn't help but feel a pang of admiration for her strength and resilience.

One thing that puzzled me was why Chidinma never bought anything from our shop. 

We sold provisions at affordable prices, but she would always opt for the shop across the street. 

I had even confronted her about it once, but she had just given me a cold, dismissive look.

Days turned into weeks, and I found myself looking forward to Chidinma's daily walks. 

I would often catch her eye, and for a brief moment, I thought I saw a glimmer of connection. 

But it was always fleeting, and she would quickly look away.

On one fateful day, Chidinma walked by our shop with a friend. I watched them from afar, wondering what to do. 

Then, I overheard the friend mention noodles, and I saw my chance.

"Hello, good afternoon," I called out, trying to sound charming. 

The friend turned around, and I was struck by her warm smile.

"Hi," she replied, while Chidinma dragged her along. I quickly salvaged the situation, "I guess you'd like some noodles for lunch? We sell them at an affordable price here."

Chidinma gave me a swift, cold response, but I ignored her and focused on the friend. "If you don't mind, you can patronize us," I added, trying to sound friendly.

The friend smiled again, and I felt a sense of hope. Maybe, just maybe, I could break through Chidinma's defenses.

As they walked away, the friend came running back to our shop. "Uncle, give me two noodles, please; the big size." I packaged the noodles, handed them to her, and told her to keep the change.

As we chatted, I learned that her name was Elizabeth. I also asked Chidinma for her number, pretending not to know her. 

She gave me a fake smile, but I could sense a hint of curiosity behind her eyes.

As they walked away, I felt a sense of excitement. Maybe I had finally broken through to Chidinma.

But little did I know, my world was about to be turned upside down.

As I opened my phone to save Chidinma's number, I was met with a message that made my blood run cold:

"You're so shameless, who would have thought that you'd talk to me after your brother raped me."

I felt like I had been punched in the gut. The words swirled around me, and I couldn't breathe.

It dawned on me that Chidinma was one of the victims of my brother's past actions.