The Colonial Heart ✓ (Editing)

Chapter 25

                               A M A

"We should begin our journey home, just in case they return," I said softly, offering Yaa my hand to help her up. She took it, her eyes clouded with worry.

"Let us pray they spare us," she whispered, her voice trembling. "We're defenseless, Ama. We would be sitting ducks if they came back."

I nodded in agreement, my mind racing with the same fears.

"We need to persuade Akwasi to train the young men,"

Yaa urged, her voice laced with desperation. "If he doesn't, everything we hold dear will be taken from us."

I halted, my frustration boiling over. "That stubborn man would not listen to us even if his life depended on it," I hissed, continuing on our path.

Yaa's words trailed off, but I could sense her anguish. "We have to try, Ama. I'm carrying two precious lives within me, and I won't let them grow up in bondage."

I cut her off, my tone sharper than intended. "Who says they will end up in chains, Yaa? You're being dramatic."

Yaa sighed, her voice barely audible. "I do not wish to fight with you, Ama."

My heart ached at her words, and I felt a pang of regret for my harsh tone. I did not mean to appear rude, but the weight of our situation made me feel inferior, powerless against the forces that threatened our lives.

"Neither do i," I whispered, seeking her forgiveness.

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As I stepped into our home, the aroma of freshly baked bread and stew enveloped me, transporting me to a time when life was simpler. My mother's gentle humming and warm smile initially greeted me, but her expression faltered when our eyes met, replaced by a look of venomous hatred. My heart sank, like a stone cast into a bottomless well.

"We most certainly cannot continue down this path,"

I implored, hoping she'd see the anguish in my eyes. But she averted her gaze, her focus returning to the pot, as if the stew's simmering broth held more significance than our fractured relationship.

I felt a surge of an unknown anger wash over me, tempting me to gather the little bit of love we shared and trample on it.

In a burst of desperation, I rushed to my bedroom, gathering the cherished gifts my parents had given me over the years.

I hurled them into the furnace, watching as the flames consumed them, like our love being devoured by the very hatred that now fueled our interactions.

"Ama, what ever are you doing?" my mother gasped, horror etched on her face as she beheld the destruction.

"All of this means nothing to me anymore!" I exclaimed, my voice a tempest raging out of control. "Our love will be reduced to ashes if you do not open your eyes and see that Akwasi is a serpent, hiding in plain sight!"

My mother's face twisted in anger, but I pressed on, fueled by a righteous fury. "You only want me to marry him because of his wealth and status, so you can show off to your friends about finding me a chief, like a prize to be won, you're such an awful woman!"

"Ama!"

My father's shout only added fuel to the fire, but my mother's tears caught me off guard, like a summer storm bursting from a clear blue sky. I expected anger, not sorrow.

"Am I the wretched one?" she sobbed, her words a lamentation, a dirge for all that was lost. "At least I did not betray my betrothed with a colonizer, like a bird surrendering its nest to a snake!"

Her words cut deep, like a knife slicing through my soul. "What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I know about your affair with that treacherous man!" she accused, her voice a venomous hiss. "I heard all those sweet nothings he told you,he  played with you as though you were a ragdoll."

"He's here to take everything from us, to colonize our lands our minerals our rights!"

I felt my world crumbling, like a house built on shifting sands.

"No, he would never..." I protested, but the seed of doubt had been planted, like a weed taking root in fertile soil.

In the midst of this turmoil, I saw a glimmer of the motherly love I once knew shimmer in her hazel orbs, but it only mocked me, a bittersweet reminder of what we had lost.

"Come child, w-we will get through this with one another."

"I don't believe you," I said, before rushing into my room, locking the door behind me, and surrendering to the tears that streamed down my face like a river overflowing its banks.

Why was I crying? I knew William was the victim in this play, but...was he?

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I'm terribly sorry for not updating in a while but I do hope you enjoyed the story though it was not long which makes me look even more like the bad guy but I most certainly promise that I'll update as quick as possible

But do have a great day and night!