“I am pregnant for your father, and he says the house in Lekki now belongs to me.”

“I am pregnant for your father, and he says the house in Lekki now belongs to me.”

​The bowl of garri slipped from my mother’s hands. It shattered on the tiles, splashing cold water and soaking her wrapper. She didn’t scream. She didn’t even move. She just stared at Bolatito, my best friend, the girl I brought into this house three years ago when her parents kicked her out.

​Bolatito stood in our living room wearing my mother’s favorite silk robe. She looked at the gold watch on her wrist, a watch my father, Chief Segun, bought for her while telling us he was at a “business retreat” in Abuja.