"Goodbye, Mr. Bongajum," I said softly.
He paused before opening his car door and turned to look at me again.
"Hello… who taught you how to pronounce my name like that?" he asked with a curious smile. "Are you from Nso?"
"Yes, sir," I replied.
His face brightened a little.
"Then that means we speak the same dialect."
"Yes sir, we do."
He nodded slowly as if that discovery pleased him.
"I would really like to see your face when you get well," he added.
I tilted my head slightly. "Why, sir?"
He laughed softly, almost shyly.
"I don't really know why," he said honestly. "But I just want to see what your face looks like. I like your voice, and I know you have a good heart, I like the way you carry yourself… and I am sure I will like your face too."
For a moment I didn't know what to say.
So I simply smiled quietly.
Then he entered his car and started the engine.
"Bye-bye, sir," I said politely. "Drive safely."
I waved at him, and he waved back through the car window before driving off into the night.
I remained standing there for a moment, watching the tail lights disappear down the road.
If he had been drunk, I would have said maybe the alcohol was speaking for him. But he didn't look drunk at all. Everything he said sounded sincere.
I stood there thinking about the kind things he had said about me.
After all, I was still a woman.
And it is in a woman's nature to admire a good-looking man who is kind, responsible, and well put together.
It is also natural for the heart to like someone who shows genuine care.
Yes, the man I once loved had disappointed me. Even the manager I thought once cared about me now spoke of me in a way that showed he was ashamed of my situation.
But that did not mean all good men had disappeared from the world.
Maybe there were still men like Mr. Bongajum.
While I was still lost in those thoughts, something suddenly happened.
Smack!
A sharp slap landed on my cheek.
"Didn't I warn you not to distract my guests?" my madam shouted angrily.
The pain shot through my face immediately.
"Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!" I cried softly.
Despite the injury on my head, she had still hit me without mercy.
I quickly held my cheek with my hand as the pain spread across my face. For a few seconds it felt unbearable.
But I said nothing.
I simply lowered my head and walked back into the house quietly.
Strangely, the peace I felt in my heart after hearing Mr. Bongajum's kind words was so strong that the pain slowly faded away.
At that moment, I found myself wishing something impossible.
I wished he had seen my face.
Maybe if he had, he would have spoken even more clearly about his intentions toward me.
But I quickly reminded myself not to be carried away.
Hadn't Tara once deceived me in a similar way?
Still, there was something very different about Mr. Bongajum.
I had nothing now.
No wealth.
No beauty that people could see.
No social position.
Yet he still showed concern for me.
That alone made me feel that maybe he was different.
But revealing my face meant revealing my true identity.
And that was dangerous.
I knew very well that someone out there was still searching for me.
Someone who wanted to destroy my life completely.
The doctor had insisted that the bandage and cast on my head must remain for a while.
I could still remember his words clearly.
"Your head is the center of many things your body does consciously," the doctor had explained. "It helps you think and act. It is like the control center of your body. It receives signals from every part of your system."
I understood what he meant.
But the pain I was feeling now was no longer just from my head.
It was from my heart.
Deep inside, I longed to be loved again.
For a moment, I even felt that maybe Mr. Bongajum could be that person.
But before anything else, I still had a battle to fight.
Something important had been stolen from me, and I had to get it back.
Still, part of me wanted to find out where Mr. Bongajum lived or worked.
If possible, I wanted him to be the first person to see my face when the bandages were finally removed.
Then one day, when I went to the hospital for my regular checkup, the doctor gave me news.
Good news.
"The cast on your head will be removed in one week," he said.
For a moment, I felt happy.
But that happiness quickly mixed with fear.
Because I knew what that meant.
The moment my face was uncovered and my identity became visible again, my life could become unsafe.
In my mind, it felt like I might have less than twenty-four hours before trouble found me again.
But at the same time, I couldn't remain hidden behind bandages forever.
Sooner or later, the truth would have to come out.
And after one week, I would have no choice but to return to the hospital and let them remove the cast from my head.
As I left the hospital that day, one thought kept repeating in my mind.
I only wished that when everything finally changed… I would still recognize the person I had become.
I was worried.
What if the scars on my face had made me ugly?
What if Mr. Bongajum finally saw my face and didn't like what he saw?
And what if my boss; who was actually my runaway husband; suddenly saw me as a threat that should never leave the hospital alive that day?
What if…
My mind was full of questions, one after another.
Sometimes I felt like my entire existence had become a puzzle that even I could not solve.
I sat quietly, lost in deep thought. That was when something suddenly crossed my mind. It had been more than a year since I last used a cell phone.
More than a year.
When I thought about it carefully, it sounded strange and unbelievable. In this modern world where everyone depended on their phones, I had lived all this time without one.
But that was simply the life I had been forced to live.
I suddenly felt chills running through my whole body as if I had a fever.
But the truth was, I wasn't sick.
It was fear.
Pure fear.
Imagine surviving such a terrible accident and instead of feeling happy that I was finally going to return to normal life, I was deeply worried about what would happen next.
My life had become complicated.
Yes, I had recently met someone like Mr. Bongajum; a man who, in many ways, seemed like the kind of person any woman would admire.
But because of everything I had experienced in the past, trusting anyone completely had become difficult.
My heart kept reminding me that appearances could sometimes be deceiving.
So I began counting the days carefully.
Every single day.
Every hour.
Every minute.
Even every second.
Each moment that passed was bringing me closer to the day when my face would finally be revealed again.
And that moment felt very important.
Finally, the long-awaited day arrived.
But instead of excitement, my heart was filled with uncertainty.
Very early that morning, the sky was just beginning to brighten. The insects that usually chirped through the night had gone silent, and somewhere in the distance a rooster could be heard crowing loudly.
Those were ordinary sounds of morning.
Yet for some reason, they sounded different to me that day.
Maybe it was because I had never paid attention to such little things before.
But now, every sound, every moment, and every movement around me felt important.
As I sat there thinking deeply, something suddenly came to my mind.
Life was not just a coincidence.
Maybe life was something guided by fate.
How else could I explain the strange situation I had found myself in?
Out of all the houses in the world, I ended up working in the same house for the man I had once married; the man who took everything from me and disappeared.
Yet here I was, hidden under the excuse of an accident, living right under his roof without him knowing who I truly was.
If fate had allowed me to remain there this long, then maybe there was still a reason for it.
Maybe the truth would soon reveal itself.
But that morning, I couldn't concentrate on anything.
My thoughts were too heavy.
Then suddenly I heard the sound of a phone ringing inside the house.
It was my runaway husband calling.
He was speaking with the woman who was preparing to become his new wife; at least if I was no longer around to stand in his way.
After ending the call, she walked up to me.
"Be ready in ten minutes," she said. "My husband is coming to pick us up. We are going to the hospital."
"Okay, madam," I replied quietly.
I noticed how easily she called him her husband, even though their marriage was not yet complete in the traditional sense.
But I said nothing.
Instead, I quietly prepared myself.
Deep inside my heart, I took what felt like the last breath of hope.
A few minutes later, I heard the sound of a car stopping outside the gate.
He didn't even bother entering the compound.
He simply stopped outside and honked the horn.
My madam walked out first, and I followed closely behind her.
We both entered the car.
As the car moved toward the hospital, my heart began beating faster.
It felt as if I was walking toward the most important moment of my life.
Or perhaps toward the end of everything.
But no matter what happened, I knew I had to be brave.
"Here we come," I muttered quietly to myself.
Soon, the car stopped in front of the hospital courtyard.
My boss and his darling stepped out first.
Then I followed them slowly as we walked toward the doctor's office.
The moment of truth had finally arrived.