As we entered the house, Obika's anger was still palpable, but I tried to ignore it. I sat Chinonso down and carefully took the egg from him, cradling it in my hands. The chick had almost fully emerged, its soft feathers glistening in the dim light.
"Let's get you some food, little one," I whispered to Chinonso, trying to distract him from the tension.
But as I stood up to head to the kitchen, Obika's voice stopped me. "You're still wasting your time with that child," he sneered. "He's not even yours."
I felt a surge of anger, but I bit my tongue, knowing that responding would only escalate the situation. Instead, I focused on Chinonso, who was watching us with wide, curious eyes.
"Let's go, Chinonso," I said, forcing a smile. "We'll get some food and make sure our little chick is safe."
As we walked to the kitchen, I could feel Obika's eyes on us, his anger and resentment palpable. But I refused to let it get to me. I was determined to protect my son, no matter what.
As we sat down to eat, Chinonso's eyes lit up at the sight of the food. He giggled and reached out for a piece of ya ,his small hands closing around it tightly. I smiled and helped him take a bite,his eyes widening in delight as he chewed the yam with his milk teeth.
But despite the joy of sharing this moment with my son,my mind was elsewhere. I couldn't shake off the feeling of my unsease that had settled in my heart. Obika's words had struck a chord and I couldn't help but wonder if he was right.was I truly Chinonso's mother,or was I just a substitute and a figure in Chinonso's life as a mother, I asked myself with a sadden heart.