Mireille let out a little laugh. “In any case, your son really loves you. But let me meet him first before you say I am going to marry him.”
Mama smiled broadly. “You are going to love him, I promise. He is hardworking, intelligent, very polite, and so handsome.”
Mireille burst into laughter. “Mama, there you go again, selling your son like he is in the market.”
The two of them laughed together.
The next morning, Mama got up early and packed her small bag. Mireille helped her fold a few clothes and walked her outside. She hugged her tightly.
“Mama, call me as soon as you arrive. Promise?”
“I promise, my daughter.”
Mireille stayed at the door, watching Mama leave in a taxi. But deep inside, a small voice whispered that this trip was not as simple as it seemed.
Mama arrived at her son’s house after a long journey. She was still wearing her old dress, as if she had just come from the village. She was tired, but her heart was full of hope. She had not seen her son in several months and was burning with desire to see him again.
She found herself standing in front of a huge villa surrounded by tall cream-white walls, with a large black iron gate. Two security guards in uniform stood at the entrance, looking at her suspiciously.
One of them walked up to her, looking her over from head to toe. He took his radio and said in a hard voice, “There is a dirty old woman at the gate. She says she wants to see the boss.”
There was a tense silence. Then the radio crackled again, and a sharp, irritated female voice replied, “I’m coming.”
A few moments later, Émilie came out of the house. She was wearing a tight designer dress, shining high heels, and large sunglasses. The moment she saw Mama, her face twisted with contempt. She crossed her arms and said in an icy voice, “You again, you crazy old woman? What are you doing here?”
Mama, tired but dignified, lifted her head. “I came to see my son.”
Émilie burst into mocking laughter. “Your son? You must be dreaming. You are lost, old woman. This house is not for people like you.”
But Mama remained calm. Her eyes shone, not with fear, but with inner fire. “Rude little girl, I am the mother of the owner of this house, and I have never been so insulted in my life.”
Émilie slowly moved toward her, lowering her voice. “You think I’m going to swallow your nonsense? You came from the village to beg here. You think your fetish is going to work? You are wasting your time. This is not where you are going to succeed.”
She turned on her heels, her strong perfume filling the air. “And do not ever dare step in front of my future husband’s house again.”
Then she went inside and slammed the door behind her.
Mama stood there frozen, her heart beating wildly. She took a deep breath, her eyes wet, then pulled out her phone and called immediately.
“My son, come right away. I am at your gate, and I have just suffered the worst humiliation of my life.”
On the other end, Cyril’s voice rose, worried but firm. “I’m coming immediately, Mama. Wait for me.”
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