EPISODE 20
While I followed her from behind, we stepped outside the hospital building and walked toward the road. There were a few people passing by, some going to the pharmacy, others leaving the hospital compound.
Up the road, I immediately spotted his car parked beside the curb, just as he had described on the phone.
My heart skipped a beat.
He was there.
Waiting.
For a brief moment, my madam became distracted by another woman who greeted her. They started exchanging a few words while standing near the entrance.
That was my chance.
Without making any sudden movement that could attract attention, I quietly changed direction and took another bend along the road.
Then I ran.
I didn't look back.
I simply disappeared from their sight before anyone could notice what I had done.
They would definitely be confused about why I suddenly left like that, but the truth was I had not truly escaped from them forever.
No.
I was only preparing myself.
One day very soon, I was going to pay them a visit again; but this time in a way they would never forget.
After leaving the hospital area, I returned once again to the streets.
To survive, I had to pretend to be a beggar again, but this time I made sure my face remained hidden.
I found a hooded sweatshirt and pulled the hood over my head so that nobody could clearly see my face.
I could not just walk around freely in public like that.
Not yet.
I knew the kind of man my runaway husband was. I also knew that he had once hired someone to make sure I never stood in his way again.
That thought alone was enough to keep me cautious.
Strangely, I was also afraid of seeing my own reflection.
I had not looked at my face in a mirror since the accident.
Deep down, I feared that my beauty might have been lost.
That fear followed me everywhere.
Still, I had a mission.
There was someone I needed to find.
Mr. Bongajum.
I didn't know his address.
I didn't know where he worked.
All I knew was his name and the memory of the kindness he had shown me that night at the party.
But somehow, I believed he might be the one person who could help me recover everything that had been taken from me.
And if his words that evening truly came from his heart, maybe he would not reject me; even after seeing my face.
But first, I needed to find him.
The hooded sweatshirt I was wearing was something I had picked up from someone's yard earlier that day. It had been lying near the door like an old rag people used to wipe dust from their feet before entering the house.
It was dirty and worn out.
But I preferred to look shabby than to risk exposing myself.
For now, survival was more important than appearance.
Living on the street again was not easy, but this time I had more experience than before. I had already gone through hardship, so I knew how to manage.
I believed that with time I would find another small job to keep myself going.
But my main focus remained the same.
I had to find Mr. Bongajum.
Sometimes the thought of seeing my own face again terrified me. Whenever I walked past reflective surfaces or shiny windows, I quickly turned my eyes away.
Even the way people on the street looked at me made me uncomfortable.
Some stared.
Some frowned.
Others twisted their noses as if something about me looked strange.
From their reactions, I began to fear that my face might truly have changed.
Still, there was only one way I could find out where Mr. Bongajum was.
And that way was risky.
But I had no other choice.
That day, despite looking dirty and unkempt, I set out with determination.
My plan was simple.
I would go to the company owned by my runaway husband.
Not his personal office, but the company building itself.
There was someone there who might know where to find Mr. Bongajum.
Someone who could give me the information I needed.
If he saw me again, I believed he might help me.
That person was the manager of M.J Limited, the company my runaway husband had bought and registered under his girlfriend's name.
His name was Lailam.
I needed to speak with him.
So I walked all the way to the company gate that day.
When I arrived, the security guard immediately stopped me.
"Hey! Where are you going?" he asked.
"I want to see the manager," I replied.
He looked at me from head to toe, clearly suspicious.
"Who are you, and what is your name?" he asked.
"I am his friend," I said calmly. "My name is Shari."
The guard didn't look convinced, but he still picked up the office phone and dialed a number.
When the call was answered, he spoke.
"Sir, there is a woman here looking for you."
"Who is she?" the voice on the phone asked.
"I don't know, sir," the guard replied. "She looks like a beggar… maybe someone from the street, but she speaks like a normal person."
"What is her name?" the voice asked again.
The guard glanced at me before replying.
"She said her name is Shari."
There was silence on the line for a moment.
Then suddenly, the voice on the phone reacted in shock.
"What?!"
The guard pulled the phone slightly away from his ear.
On the other end, the manager sounded panicked.
"Just give me a moment," he said quickly.
EPISODE 21
I stood there feeling uneasy.
A part of me feared that Lailam might report me to his boss; my runaway husband or even inform his fiancée that I was standing at the company gate.
Anything could happen.
I waited, expecting him to tell the gatekeeper to allow me inside. Instead, I saw him come out of the main building and walk quickly toward where I was standing.
When he reached me, he didn't even greet me.
"What are you doing here?" he asked angrily. "Do you want to put me into trouble? I was dumped by your madam because of you, so what are you doing here again?"
His words surprised me.
That was when I realized how cleverly my madam had played him like a fool.
She had used him when it suited her. But the moment my runaway husband returned, she needed an excuse to get rid of Lailam.
So she probably claimed that he had been getting too friendly with me and used that as a reason to break things off with him.
I could already imagine how she must have warned him never to step into her house again.
Still, one thing he said confused me.
Why was he claiming that my presence could make him lose his job?
"Why would you lose your job because of me?" I asked.
He shook his head nervously.
"She ended things with me and told me clearly that if she ever sees me talking with you again; since you are her housemaid, I will be fired immediately," he explained.
He lowered his voice and added, "She also warned me that if anyone, especially her future husband, ever finds out that she and I had something going on before, I will lose my job."
At that moment I understood everything.
His job meant more to him now than any past connection we might have shared.
But honestly, I didn't blame him.
Finding a stable job in a country like Cameroon was not easy. Many people struggled every day just to earn a living.
So I decided not to argue with him.
"I am not here to cause trouble," I told him calmly. "I only need one thing from you."
He folded his arms impatiently.
"What is it?"
"I need someone's address. If you give it to me, I will leave and never bother you again."
He looked at me from head to toe.
"But you look just like the first day I saw you; dirty, like someone begging on the street."
"I have already left your boss's house," I replied quietly. "Just give me the address I need."
"Whose address?" he asked, now curious.
"Mr. Bongajum."
The moment I mentioned that name, his expression changed.
"What do you want his address for?" he asked.
"You are asking too many questions," I said, trying to remain calm. "Can you just help me and stop worrying about getting yourself into trouble?"
He scratched his head thoughtfully.
"What if I give you his phone number instead?" he suggested.
"I don't have a phone," I replied.
He sighed as if he just wanted the conversation to end quickly.
Finally, he took out a small piece of paper, wrote something on it, and handed it to me.
"That's the address of his office," he said. "You will find him there."
I took the paper carefully.
At that moment, I realized how strange my situation was.
I had nothing clean to wear.
Just the hooded sweatshirt I had picked up earlier.
After running away from the hospital that day, I had returned to the streets and once again become a beggar.
But I had no choice.
Holding the paper tightly, I began walking toward the direction of the address he had written.
I didn't have money for transportation, so I walked on foot, asking people for directions along the way.
Some people looked at me strangely.
Others whispered as I passed by.
I even heard someone say, "When did this beautiful woman start wandering like a mad person?"
Another person laughed and replied, "You have started admiring beggars on the street now?"
I ignored them.
In my village, there is a saying that the person who asks for directions never truly gets lost.
Even though some people quickly stepped away when they saw me approaching them, I kept asking until someone finally pointed me toward the correct building.
Soon, I found myself standing in front of Mr. Bongajum's office.
My heart began to beat faster.
I walked up to the entrance and told the people there that I wanted to see him.
Immediately, they looked at me with surprise.
One of them whispered to another, clearly confused about why someone who looked like a beggar would come to such a place asking for a man like him.
"Does he know you are coming to see him?" one of them asked.
"Not really," I replied.
"Do you know him personally?"
"Yes."
That was all I could say.
A few moments later, one of the workers went inside the building.
From where I stood, I could see inside the workshop area.
Soon, Mr. Bongajum himself walked out of his office.
He stopped a few steps away as the worker pointed in my direction.
I was sure the man was telling him, "That is the woman looking for you."
From the way Mr. Bongajum reacted, it was clear he was confused.
"But I don't know her," he seemed to say.
Of course he wouldn't recognize me.
The last time he saw me, my head was covered with a cast and bandages.
Now my face was completely different from the person he remembered.
I stood there quietly, hoping he would walk closer.
If he came near enough, I would explain everything.
I would remind him of the night we met.
And maybe then he would finally recognize me.
What do you think Mr Bongajum react after seeing this beautiful beggar?