Ajegunle was alive with its usual hustle and bustle—children ran barefooted, market women argued over prices, and the scent of roasted corn filled the air. But inside Mama Ife's small shop, a storm was brewing in silence.
Seated on a wooden stool, Ifeoma gripped a piece of paper in her trembling hands. Her heart pounded as she read the words again:
"The truth about your birth has been hidden for too long. If you want answers, come to the old church at midnight."
She swallowed hard and looked at her mother, Mama Ife, who was busy folding wrappers.
"Mama," she began carefully, "who are my real parents?"
Mama Ife froze for a second, then let out a dry laugh. "What kind of nonsense question is that?"
Ifeoma held up the letter. "Someone sent me this. They say I’m not your real daughter."
For the first time in her life, Ifeoma saw fear in her mother’s eyes. It lasted only a second before Mama Ife forced a scowl. "See, my friend, don’t let people use big grammar to confuse you! You are my daughter, period!"
"But—"
"Enough!" Mama Ife snapped, grabbing the letter and tearing it into tiny pieces. "Go and wash the plates! That’s what you should be thinking about, not rubbish talk!"
Ifeoma didn’t argue, but her mind raced. If it was truly nonsense, why did her mother look so scared?
That night, as the city settled into its usual silence, Ifeoma lay on her mat, unable to sleep. The words in the letter haunted her.
"Come to the old church at midnight..."
She knew the church—a broken-down building at the edge of town, abandoned for years. Something told her that whoever sent that letter knew something important about her life.
As the clock struck 11:45 PM, she quietly got up, slipped into her slippers, and crept out of the house.
She was going to find out the truth—no matter what it was.
Shadow Of The Past