Tears of an Orphan
Episode 8
© Francis Mary Solomon
“Hi Cynthia,” Rita said cheerfully as she sat beside Cynthia at her desk. Her seatmate had gone out for break.
Cynthia raised her head quietly and looked at Rita. A soft smile appeared on her face.
“Hi Rita, good afternoon.”
“I’m sorry for disturbing you. I can see you’re copying notes. Well done. Um… won’t you go for break?” Rita asked quickly.
“Um, no, Rita. As you can see, I’m trying to meet up with the notes I missed. I didn’t come to school the day before yesterday and yesterday, so I have to copy everything. I’m also sure our teachers gave assignments. I want to finish them before break ends. Especially maths, I heard that she said we must submit it today,” Cynthia explained.
“Oh, sorry about that. Can I help you with the notes while you focus on the assignment?” Rita offered kindly.
“No, Rita. I want to copy the notes myself as I read, so I can understand. If I leave it till I get home, I won’t have enough time to read well. I’m almost done anyway. But thank you for your concern,” Cynthia replied politely.
“Since you don’t want me to help you copy, that’s fine. But can I get you something from the canteen?” Rita asked again. She liked Cynthia’s gentle personality and wanted to be close to her.
“No, thank you. You can go and get what you want,” Cynthia answered.
“You don’t want anything? Aren’t you hungry?” Rita asked, worried.
“It’s fine. I just want to finish this before break is over,” Cynthia said, focusing back on her notes.
“Alright then, I’ll be going,” Rita said, but she still felt uneasy. She wondered why Cynthia never ate during break. Little did she know that Cynthia had no money, even though she was very hungry.
Cynthia forced herself to endure the hunger and continued writing. Just then, a male voice called her name.
“Hi Cynthia, thank my goodness I saw you here. Please have something to eat,” Steven said as he dropped a can of malt and an egg roll on her desk.
Cynthia raised her head, shocked.
“Hey Steven, I didn’t ask you to get this for me,” she said.
“Yes, I know. I would have brought proper food, but my aunt was on night duty, and my uncle couldn’t prepare anything. So he told me to get this for you. He also said I should ask if your aunt allowed you to take the snacks he gave you that day we left.” Steven explained, sitting on her seatmate’s chair.
Cynthia’s heart sank. That day, her aunt had forced her to return the Hollandia yogurt and egg roll, warning her never to collect anything from them again. If she told Steven the truth, her aunt could be in trouble.
“Cynthia, you’re quiet. Did she allow you to take it? I hope she didn’t beat you?” Steven asked with concern.
“I’m fine, Steven. Can’t you see? I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile.
“Cynthia, answer me. My uncle will ask. He is a lawyer, a human rights activist. If your aunt mistreats you, he can defend you and even get help for you. So please, tell me the truth.”
Cynthia shook her head gently.
“Steven, my aunt allowed me to take it. She wasn’t happy about it, but she allowed me. I’m okay,” she lied, protecting her aunt even though it hurt her inside.
Steven looked at her closely. “I know you’re covering for her, but I won’t press it now. Please eat this. Don’t say no,” he said.
“Thank you so much, Steven. I was really hungry,” Cynthia said. She quickly opened the malt and devoured the egg roll like a starving lion.
After eating, she hurried to finish her notes and tried to work on her maths assignment. But the break bell soon rang.
“Oh God, please help me. I just wish I could finish this assignment before the maths teacher comes in,” she murmured under her breath.
As she was scribbling her second answer, the teacher walked in with a cane and dropped it on Cynthia’s desk. She sat in front.
“Good afternoon, ma,” the students chorused as they stood.
“Good afternoon, class. Sit down,” the teacher said firmly. “Before today’s lesson, I want everyone to submit their assignments.”
“Cynthia, collect the notebooks and drop them here. When we’re done, take them to the staff room,” she instructed.
Cynthia’s heart beat fast. She had only answered one and a half questions out of four. She wished the teacher had started from the back. But with no choice, she closed her book sadly and began collecting.
After dropping the notebooks, she sat quietly. The teacher turned to the board to write. Quickly, Cynthia placed her notebook on her lap and solved question two. But just as she finished, the teacher moved closer. She shut the book at once and decided to submit it as it was, leaving the rest to God.
Cynthia sighed. She was always diligent with assignments, but missing two days of school had left her with piles of work. She bowed her head slightly and prayed in her heart.
“Lord, I leave everything in Your hands. Please favor me with a good score.”
*************
At the palace of Imota Kingdom in Lagos…
The grand doors of the royal corridor creaked as Samuel staggered out of his room. His steps were unsteady, his eyes heavy, and the smell around him made it clear he was drunk.
The King and Queen were already seated in the royal living room, dressed in their rich flowing robes, the golden chandelier above casting light on their crowns.
Samuel stretched, yawned loudly, and waved his hand carelessly.
“Yo, what’s up, folks?” he said with a lazy grin, dropping into the golden couch without bowing or greeting properly.
The Queen glanced quickly at the King, who stiffened in his seat. Anger flared in the King’s eyes as he gripped his royal staff tightly.
“Samuel!” King Adeyemi thundered, his voice echoing through the marble walls. “How many times will I tell you to stop drinking? You are wasting your life and your destiny!”
Samuel chuckled, leaning back with arrogance. “Dad, chill…this is how we roll, men. This is life.”
“Shut up, you stupid boy!” the King roared, striking his staff hard on the floor. The sound rang like thunder. “Who gave you the right to talk to me like that—your father? I regret the day I sent you to the USA for a better education!”
He turned sharply to his wife.
“Woman! Speak some sense into this your son’s foolish brain! Do you think I will allow him to bring shame to me? Never! I am His Majesty, the King of this land. I am respected everywhere, and I will not let my only heir disgrace me!”
With that, the King rose, his robe sweeping across the polished tiles as he stormed angrily into his royal chambers.
The Queen looked at Samuel with sorrowful eyes.
“My son,” she said softly, “please stop this. Drinking will destroy you. You are a prince, the heir to this throne. Princes don’t live recklessly. You must protect your future, your name, and this kingdom.”
But Samuel’s face hardened. He stood up quickly, his voice sharp.
“Enough, Mom! I’m tired of you and Dad controlling me. Can’t I live my life the way I want? Just let me be!”
He stormed out, banging the tall doors behind him.
Silence fell over the palace.
The Queen sat quietly on her golden chair, lowering her head as tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Oh Lord,” she whispered in pain, “what has come over my son? Please, touch him, restore him, and do not let my only child—the heir to this throne—be lost to the world.”
Her tears fell quietly, echoing in the vast hall.
To be continued……
Inspired by the Great Teacher.
Do not copy or edit without the author’s consent.
Stay blessed till we meet in the next episode.
Written by Francis Mary Solomon.