Tears of an Orphan –
Episode 16
© Mary Francis Solomon
Cynthia stood transfixed, confused about which option to choose. Her mind was in turmoil. On one hand, she thought of getting rid of the baby because, if she left the house, she had nowhere to go and nothing to take care of herself — talk more of the child inside her. On the other hand, she feared that if she aborted the pregnancy, she might be committing murder. She was too confused, lost in her thoughts, until Mrs. Olajide’s angry voice jolted her back to reality.
“I’m giving you sixty seconds to make your decision! If not, I’ll help you make it myself!” Mrs. Olajide shouted furiously.
Cynthia looked at the clock, her heart racing. Tears filled her eyes as she made the hardest decision of her life.
“Aunty, thank you very much for taking care of me and giving me a roof over my head. I appreciate everything you’ve done. I know I won’t be proud to tell my unborn child who the father is… but I’ll prefer to keep this pregnancy than to stay under a roof with guilt haunting me forever. I don’t know how God will do it for me, but I prefer integrity to comfort.”
Her voice trembled, but her words carried strength. She quickly packed a few of her things, lifted her small bag, and walked out of the compound with tears running down her face. She didn’t know where she was going — she only whispered prayers in her heart, begging God to help her and send her a helper.
Mrs. Olajide stood there, shocked by Cynthia’s decision. She had expected Cynthia to choose abortion so she could remain in the house. Her plan was to let Cynthia get rid of the baby and continue living under her control. But to her greatest surprise, the girl chose to leave instead.
She hissed and shook her head. “Hmm, I believe by tomorrow morning you’ll be back begging at this gate. You’ll see. Nobody will help you, especially now that you’re pregnant,” she muttered sarcastically, then walked to the kitchen.
When the food was ready, she turned off the gas cooker and sat in the living room, waiting for her children to return.
When Greatness came back from choir practice, she asked her mother where Cynthia was. Mrs. Olajide lied to her, saying she had sent Cynthia on an errand. Later, when Eric returned, he noticed Cynthia wasn’t around. Deep inside, he regretted what he had done to his cousin, but he couldn’t face her or his father. His parents had not been on good terms since the incident — especially his father, who wanted Eric to face the law.
Mr. Olajide had planned to send Eric to prison for defiling his niece, but because of his position as a respected church elder, he decided to let it go — to protect his reputation. Still, his heart was heavy with guilt that he couldn’t protect his niece from his wife’s cruelty and his son’s wickedness.
That night, tension filled the house. Greatness couldn’t sleep. It was already 11 p.m., yet Cynthia hadn’t returned. She asked her mother again, but the woman snapped at her, saying Cynthia would soon come back. Greatness was restless. She knelt beside her bed, prayed silently, and begged God to keep Cynthia safe. Then she forced herself to sleep, hoping to see her the next day.
That Same Night…
Cynthia walked aimlessly through the dark streets, shivering. No one offered her help. Her clothes were soaked with rain and tears. She found an uncompleted building nearby and decided to rest there for the night.
She sat in one corner that looked a bit dry, placed her bag under her head, and whispered a short prayer: “God, please… send me help. Don’t let me die like this.”
Soon, heavy rain began to fall again. The wind howled through the open walls. She had nowhere to hide, nowhere to cover herself. She hugged her body tightly, using her small jacket to cover herself, but it was soon soaked too. Her teeth clattered in the cold.
Around 12 a.m., she couldn’t endure it anymore. She grabbed her bag and ran out of the uncompleted building, looking for any shelter. Finally, she saw a house with a zinc shed. She rushed there and curled herself up in the corner, trying to keep warm.
Suddenly, the door creaked open.
“Jesus Christ!” a young girl shouted when she saw Cynthia outside. She screamed and ran back inside.
“Mommy, mommy! I saw something outside our house!” she cried.
Her mother, half-asleep, followed her with a torchlight. When the light shone on Cynthia, she gasped. “Ah! My dear, who are you? What are you doing here this time of the night?”
Cynthia looked up weakly, shivering from cold.
“Please, ma… I was chased out of the house. I didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
The woman looked at her with pity. “Ah, this one na serious matter o. Okay, come inside, my dear. You can’t stay out here like this.”
Cynthia burst into tears of relief. “Thank you, ma… thank you so much.”
“Come, remove those wet clothes. Give them to me, I’ll hang them near the line to dry. You’ll catch pneumonia like this,” the woman said kindly. She gave Cynthia a wrapper and showed her a room where she could sleep for the night.
By dawn, the woman’s husband came back from his night duty. He was a police officer. When he entered and saw a stranger in the house, he frowned.
“Who is that girl?” he asked.
The wife explained everything, but he wasn’t happy about it.
“I don’t like strangers in my house, especially when I don’t know their story,” he said firmly. “Let her tell us everything first. Then we’ll decide if she can stay or not.”
They had their morning devotion together. Cynthia joined them quietly, thanking God for the shelter. After prayers, the woman called her into the room and sat beside her.
“My dear, tell me what happened. Don’t hide anything from me,” she said softly.
Cynthia took a deep breath and told her everything — from how she came to stay with her aunt to what her cousin did to her, and how she was chased out because of the pregnancy.
The woman listened in shock. “Ah! My daughter, you mean your own cousin did this to you? What kind of wickedness is this?” she exclaimed, shaking her head in pity.
She looked closely at Cynthia’s stomach. “So… You’re pregnant?”
Cynthia hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, ma. I’m pregnant. But it wasn’t my choice… it just happened.”
The woman sighed deeply. “Hmm… my dear, you have suffered. I will talk to my husband. He’s a policeman — maybe he can arrest that boy.”
“No, ma, please,” Cynthia pleaded quickly. “It’s okay. I’ve forgiven him. I just want peace.”
The woman smiled sadly. “You think you’ve forgiven him, but you’re still hurting, my dear. Anyway, don’t worry. Let me talk to my husband first. I already like you. You’ll be fine.”
Cynthia smiled weakly, feeling a small ray of hope. Even the woman’s daughter seemed fond of her already. But deep down, Cynthia prayed silently that the man of the house would accept her — because when she greeted him earlier, he had only nodded and walked away without a word.
To be continued…
Inspired by the Great Teacher.
Do not copy, edit, or reproduce any part of this story without the author’s consent.
Stay blessed till we meet in the next episode.
Written by Mary Francis Solomon.