Then something worse happened.
One evening, Imani came downstairs and found her parents in the sitting room. The television was on, but nobody was watching it. Her father, Mr. Adeyemi, sat with both elbows on his knees, his phone in one hand, his face tense. Her mother, Mrs. Adeyemi, looked as if she had been crying.
Imani stopped at once. “What happened?”
Both of them looked up too quickly.
“Nothing,” her mother said.
But the answer came too fast.
Imani moved closer. “Mummy?”
Her father exhaled slowly. “Sit down.”
That was when fear entered her.
She sat.
Mr. Adeyemi was a strong man, the kind who always sounded sure of himself. Even when business was hard, he never let fear show. But that night, his face looked tired in a way she had never seen before.
“The business is in trouble,” he said.
Imani frowned. “What kind of trouble?”
He paused, then answered with difficulty. “Bad trouble.”
Her mother looked away and wiped her eyes. Imani’s heart began to beat faster.
“How bad?”
Mr. Adeyemi held her gaze. “We may lose almost everything.”
The room went quiet.
For a moment, Imani could not understand the words. They felt too big, too strange. Families like hers did not just lose everything. They had houses, cars, staff, a name that opened doors. Problems came, but they were solved.
But when she looked at her father again, she saw it clearly.
Fear.
Real fear.
Her mother finally spoke, her voice shaking. “We are trying to keep it quiet because if people hear now, it will get worse.”
That became the family’s new life. Outside, they acted normal. They dressed well. They answered calls carefully. They smiled when needed.
But inside the house, everything had changed.
Loans had piled up. Deals had failed. Accounts were under pressure. People who used to speak politely now sounded demanding. Strange calls started coming at odd hours. Her father became quieter. Her mother became restless. The news of the bankruptcy was kept hidden, but the fear was everywhere.
For the first time in her life, Imani saw what it meant for a family to be falling.
And in the middle of that fear, she began to understand Chidi better than ever.
She remembered the look on his face when people mocked him. She remembered his pain whenever money entered a conversation. She remembered how hard he fought to keep his dignity.
Now she was the one losing hers.
But instead of running to him, she pulled back.
At first, it was just silence. She missed his calls once or twice. She answered messages late. She avoided long conversations. Chidi noticed, of course, but each time he asked, she said she was fine.
She was not fine.
She was afraid. Afraid he would see her broken. Afraid she would become another burden in his life. Afraid his love would turn into pity.
And beneath all of it was one darker fear she hated even having. What if he only loved the version of her that looked strong, secure, and untouchable? What if, without her money, she became ordinary to him?
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