Broken ✔

Chapter Seven

Song: Ye — Burnaboy

**Unedited** (Never have I ever is the best series on Netflix right now)

I went inside the house. The stools the visitors were sitting on just moments ago were arranged in a semi-circle across the sofa my parents were sitting on.

They were so deep in thought that they didn't notice me come in. Well, until I accidentally bumped a flower vase to the floor, shattering it to a million pieces.

They looked up, startled from their quiet reverie to see the daughter they were so disappointed in.

As if it was something that was planned, they both held my gaze. I couldn't tear my eyes away even if I wanted to. I felt like doing that would in some way be admitting to all the horrid things they thought of me.

Staring back at them too wasn't an easy task. It was like they weren't just looking at me but also staring into my soul, begging for the answers I wouldn't provide to them, wondering why the daughter they had invested so much time and effort into raising had turned out this way.

Immoral and with a lack of respect for her own body and for the feelings of her parents.

"Where did you go?" Dada asked, breaking the tense silence. Not that she had succeeded in destroying the tension too.

"The landlord's children took her out," fofo replied for me.

"I thought we agreed that she wouldn't be able to go out without her brothers," dada said. She was looking at me as if addressing me — with disappointment in her eyes — but she was talking to fofo.

"The landlord asked. Did you expect me to refuse?" He, on the other hand, completely refused to look at me. His eyes were trained on the floor.

If I had to face either my parents anger or their disappointment, I would choose their anger a hundred times over.

My mother's eyes burned into my soul and my father's indifference crushed my heart. It was better when they were screaming at me or even hitting me, because I could direct my anger at them. But when the room was completely silent with them acting as if I was someone they didn't know, it was just pure torture.

"I'm going to get started on dinner," dada said, rising to her feet.

"You're not going to tell me what you conversed about?" I asked.

They both looked at me with questioning eyes.

"What are you talking about?" Fofo asked.

"The people who just left. The visitors, what did you converse with them about?" I clarified.

"It doesn't concern you," dada told me with a frown. "If you're done wasting my time, I'm going to start making dinner."

Fofo stood up, perhaps in order to follow her to the kitchen where they could discuss my future if the only man who asked for my hand was really Mr. Offei.

"Prince Michael asked for my hand," I blurted before I could stop myself.

They both paused. Dada turned around, her face impassive. "Don't joke about things like that Elorm. It's not funny."

"I'm not joking. Prince Michael asked for my hand. I didn't tell you because I don't want to marry him just yet," I told them.

She scowled. "Elorm, you should know that when men tell you beautiful things just to sleep with you, they don't mean it."

"I haven't slept with him!" I yelled. "I haven't slept with anyone in my life! I'm as virgin as I was when I was born."

Dada rolled her eyes. "Save your tantrums for another day. We haven't eaten since morning because we were busily trying to find you a suitor!"