Her arms achd from washing two full buckets of folas and Tina’s dirty uniforms. Her lips were cracked. Her stomach growled like a trapped animal. She hadn’t eaten since Tuesday. On Wednesday, Madame Teresa said, “If you’re not going to the market, you are not eating.” And that morning, she had been too weak to hawk bananas. Her legs trembled when she tried to stand.

She collapsed on the bathroom floor and lay there for over an hour, dizzy, hoping the spinning walls would stop. Still no food. Now, as she rung the last piece of clothing and hung it on the line, her knees gave out. She fell face first into the sand. For a moment, she stayed there, breathing heavily, the taste of dust on her tongue. Her mind drifted to her late father.

Would he recognize what his daughter had become? Would he forgive her for not being strong enough? Tears slid down her face. She sat up slowly and whispered, “God, I don’t want to steal, but I’m hungry. Please do something. Anything.” Her eyes wandered to the neighbor’s compound, Mama Femy’s house. Mama Femi was a well-known local food vendor and a widow just like Teresa. But unlike Teresa, she had a heart as soft as boiled yam. She often smiled at Bimbo and waved whenever she passed by.

With trembling hands and shame tugging at her soul, Bimbo rose to her feet, wiped her tears, and walked toward the back gate that connected both compounds. The moment she knocked, the wooden door creaked to open. Mama Femi stood there in her wrapper and apron holding a wooden spoon. “Huh, Bimbo,” she exclaimed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

Are you okay?” Bimbo tried to speak, but no words came. Her throat was too dry. Mama Fei stepped closer. “Have you eaten today?” Bimbo shook her head. “Yesterday?” Another silent shake. “My God,” Mama Fei muttered, covering her mouth. She grabbed Bimbo’s wrist gently and pulled her inside.

Within minutes, she placed a steaming plate of white rice, fried plantain, and red stew in front of her. Bimbo stared at it like it was treasure. Eat, my child. You’re safe here. The first spoonful made her cry. She couldn’t control it. The taste of food, the kindness, the human decency. She had forgotten what it felt like to be fed without insults. Mama Femi watched in silence, tears filling her own eyes.

After the meal, Bimbo whispered, “Thank you, Ma. May God bless you.” But Mama Fei was already furious. Not at Bimbo, but at the woman next door. That evening, after feeding her children, she tied her headscarf tightly and stormed into Teresa’s compound like a lioness protecting her cub.

Teresa was lounging on a plastic chair, sipping malt, and watching Tina play with a tablet. Mama Fei didn’t wait for greetings. You should be ashamed of yourself, Teresa. That girl hasn’t eaten in 2 days. You turned her into your slave. She’s a child, not your maid. Teresa’s eyes narrowed. And who asked you to feed her? You’ve been gossiping about me in the village. Obby, gossip.

The whole street sees it, Teresa. Everyone knows how you treat her. Tina quietly walked inside as her mother rose to her feet, face boiling. You dare to enter my house and accuse me in front of my children. You think because you sell food, you can disrespect me? I will say the truth wherever I stand. Mama Fei shouted, “You’re wicked.

If your husband were alive, he’d weep at what you’ve done to that girl.” That was the trigger. That night, when Bimbo returned from Mama Femi’s place, smiling faintly for the first time in days, she met her doom waiting at the door. Teresa’s voice roared from inside. “You foolish girl! So, you’ve started reporting me to villagers? Do I look like your mate? Who gave you the right to drag my name in the mud?” Bimbo stammered. “I didn’t say anything. She just saw me.

” And before she could finish, Teresa slapped her across the face hard. You think you’re smart? You think you can disgrace me in this compound? Then came the thunderous declaration that ended everything. Get out of my house. Bimbo blinked. Ma, you heard me. Carry your useless bag and go before I call boys to throw you out.

Tina and Fa stood by the door, silently watching. Not a single word in defense. With shaky hands, Bimbo walked to the tiny room she once called hers. She stuffed her few clothes into a plastic bag. Her notebook, her Bible, and the photo of her father were all she took. As she stepped out into the night, Teresa hissed, “Don’t ever come back.” The gate slammed behind her.

She was 17, alone, homeless, and heartbroken. The sky was growing darker by the minute. As Bimbo walked away from the house that once held every memory of her childhood, her heart felt like it had been cut open. She didn’t know where she was going. Her legs moved, but her mind was numb.