The Day Everything Changed
The school bell rang, signaling the end of the term. The usual chatter of students filled the air as backpacks were slung over shoulders and laughter echoed through the hallways. I stood outside the gates with Favour, my closest friend and classmate, waiting for Daniel—our family driver—to arrive. He was always punctual, his familiar car pulling up at the same time every day. But today, he didn't come.
Instead, a sleek black Mercedes roared into the school compound at an alarming speed, tires screeching as it narrowly missed a group of students crossing the driveway. My heart jumped into my throat as the car skidded to a halt. The door flung open, and my mother stepped out, her face pale, her eyes wide with urgency.
"David!" she called out, her voice sharp and unfamiliar—a tone I had never heard from her before.
Favor and I exchanged a quick, confused glance before I sprinted toward the car. The moment I reached her, Mom gripped my arm tightly, her fingers trembling.
"Get in. We don't have time. Please, hurry."
Her words were rushed, laced with something I couldn't place—fear? Panic? I had never seen her like this. Without hesitation, I climbed into the passenger seat, barely shutting the door before she slammed the accelerator. The school's long, winding driveway blurred past us in seconds as we sped toward the main road.
The Wrong Turn
Once we hit the main road, I expected her to merge onto the highway—the usual route Daniel took to get us home. But instead, Mom swerved sharply onto the bridge, taking a path that made no sense.
"Mom, why aren't we taking the highway?" I asked, turning to look at her.
That's when I saw it.
Tears.
Streaming down her face in silent rivers, her jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles twitching. My stomach twisted into knots. My mother never cried. Not when I scraped my knee as a child, not when I failed my first exam, not even when her friend passed away. She was the pillar of strength in our family—unshakable, unbreakable.
But now, she was breaking.
A sharp, unfamiliar pain stabbed through my chest. "Mom… why are you crying?"
She forced a smile, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand. "It's nothing, David. My sweet son, it's nothing."
But it wasn't nothing. I knew that smile—it was the same one she wore when she tried to hide bad news. "Mom, please," I begged, my voice cracking. "Tell me what's wrong!"
Her composure shattered. A sob tore from her throat, raw and unrestrained, like a child who had just lost everything. Her hands trembled on the wheel, the car swerving dangerously close to the edge of the bridge.
"Mom, stop the car!" I shouted, gripping the dashboard.
She didn't argue. With shaky breaths, she pulled into the parking lot of a roadside supermarket, the engine cutting off as she slumped forward, her forehead resting against the steering wheel.
The Truth Unfolds
The silence in the car was suffocating. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears.
"Mom," I whispered. "What happened? Why didn't Daniel come? Where are we going?"
She took a deep breath, wiping her face again before turning to me. "David… I don't want you to cry, okay? You're a man now."
She was right—I had just turned sixteen last week. I nodded, bracing myself.
"Listen carefully," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "And don't scream."
Another nod.
Then, the words that shattered my world:
"Your father was shot today. At his office."
My breath left my lungs. "What?!" My voice was hoarse, disbelieving. "But—his office is guarded! How—?"
Mom's face darkened. "Daniel did it."
The name hit me like a physical blow. "Daniel? Our Daniel?!"
She nodded, fresh tears spilling over. "He betrayed us. He shot your father and escaped through the window before the guards could catch him."
My vision blurred. Daniel—the man who had driven me to school every day, who had laughed with me, who Dad had treated like family—had tried to kill my father?
"Why?" My voice was raw. "We trusted him! Dad loved him more than he loved me!"
The slap came so fast I didn't see it coming. My cheek stung, my head snapping to the side.
"Don't ever say that," Mom hissed, her voice trembling with fury. "Your father loved you more than anything in this world. Everything he did—everything he sacrificed—was for you."
I clenched my fists, anger boiling in my chest. "If he loved me so much, why did he leave us? Why did he marry another woman? Why did he call me a mistake? A bastard?"
Another slap. Harder this time.
"Your father is a good man!" she shouted, her voice breaking. "He left to protect us! He married that woman to keep us safe! Everything—everything—was to shield us from the people who wanted to hurt him by hurting you!"
I was drowning in confusion. "Protect us from what, Mom? What is Dad involved in? Why won't you ever tell me?"
She cupped my face, her thumbs wiping away tears I didn't realize I had shed. "One day, David… I promise, I'll tell you everything."
It was the same empty promise she had made a hundred times before.
The Race to the Hospital
After a long silence, Mom exhaled shakily. "Alright, David. Let's go see your father."
My heart lurched. "He's alive?!"
She nodded. "Yes. Daniel shot him, but the guards got him to the hospital in time."
Relief and fury warred inside me. "Mom, you should've led with that! You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
A faint, tired smile touched her lips. "Alright, love. Let's go."
The drive from Lagos to Abuja was a blur of tense silence and racing thoughts. The sun had long set by the time we arrived at the hospital, the sterile white lights of the reception area glaring down at us.
Before Mom could even park properly, I bolted out of the car, sprinting inside. The nurse at the counter barely looked up before pointing me down a hallway. "Room 207," she said, as if she already knew who I was looking for.
I ran.
Every step echoed in the empty corridor, my pulse roaring in my ears. I didn't know what I would say to him. I hated him—for leaving, for lying, for making Mom cry. But beneath the anger, there was still love. Still hope.
I turned the corner, skidding to a stop in front of Room 207.
And then—
I pushed the door open.
A man in black stood over my father's bed.
A gun in his hand.
Pointed at Dad.
Before I could scream—
BANG.
To Be Continued…