Chapter 13: The Laughter I Couldn’t Join

Nine months had passed since Sarah entered the house as David's new wife.

She had given birth to a beautiful baby girl, and the cries of the newborn filled the house with a different kind of energy—new, innocent, pure. Sarah beamed with pride, holding her daughter close to her chest as her family members came around, celebrating noisily. They laughed, sang, and clapped with uncontainable joy, their voices rising above the sounds of traditional drums hired specially for the naming ceremony.

The baby was named Glory.

David smiled that day. Not because he was overjoyed like the others, but because it was expected of him. His thoughts were elsewhere. Every burst of laughter at the ceremony, every song of congratulations, only widened the emptiness in his chest.

He hadn't spoken to his elder brother James in over three weeks.

Each time he dialed James's number, the response was the same: "The number you have dialed is switched off. Please try again later." The words echoed in his head like a cold warning.

Despite the new baby, despite the smiles of visitors and family, something about James's silence unsettled him. His brother was not the kind to vanish without a word—especially not to him.

As the naming ceremony wore on into the afternoon, David sat at a corner of the compound, half-listening to the musicians play. Sarah had already started mingling with her relatives, holding baby Glory like a trophy, parading the child as if she had just won a prize.

But David's eyes kept shifting to his phone.

Still no missed call.

Still no message.

Still no James.

Two weeks later, it came.

A call, but not from James's usual number.

It was unfamiliar.

David answered, his voice rushed with hope. "Hello? Hello?"

"David… it's me. James."

His heart skipped. "James! Ah! You just abandoned me like that—where have you been? Are you okay?"

"I'm… not really," James replied weakly. "I'm in the hospital. In the village."

David stood frozen. "Hospital?"

"Yes. I've been sick. For a while now. I didn't want to worry you."

David didn't wait for explanations. That night, he told Sarah.

"We're going to the village tomorrow morning. James is in the hospital."

Sarah sighed. "So we'll carry the baby and go?"

David looked at her. "Do we have a choice?"

"I just gave birth, David. This isn't the right time to be moving up and down. Besides, we don't even know how serious it is."

"He's my brother," David said firmly. "I'm going. If you want to stay—"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I didn't say I won't go. But don't expect me to start running around village hospitals. I just gave birth."

They packed a few items, carried baby Glory, and left early the next morning. The journey was quiet. David didn't talk much—his mind was replaying old memories, imagining the worst.

But nothing could prepare him for what happened next.

As they arrived at the village hospital, David rushed into the ward, only to see two nurses removing the bedsheets from a bed.

A cold chill washed over him. "Please," he stammered, "where is the patient that was here?"

One of the nurses looked at him sympathetically. "Are you related to Mr. James?"

"Yes. I'm his younger brother."

"I'm sorry… he passed away this morning."

Everything slowed down.

Passed away?

No.

That's not what he came here for.

That's not what this journey was about.

David staggered back, holding the wall to keep himself from falling. He felt the oxygen leave the room, his chest tightening.

Sarah entered behind him and looked around. "What's going on?"

The nurse turned to her. "Are you his wife?"

"No. I'm his brother's wife."

The nurse nodded. "We're sorry for your loss."

David collapsed into the chair. A deep sob tore from his throat. All the strength he had been holding in crumbled. James was gone. His brother. His advisor. His helper. The man who helped him build his confidence, find his footing, and make decisions—gone, just like that.

David wept like a child.

And Sarah? She just stood there.

After a few minutes, she tapped his shoulder.

"David, sorry oh, but… what do we do now?" Her voice was flat.

He looked up at her, eyes red and swollen.

She continued, "You know we don't even have money like that. What will Glory eat? And me, I'm just recovering. I hope you know funeral things are expensive. And there's no food in the house."

David looked at her, stunned.

This was not the moment to talk about money. This was not the time to complain about Glory's feeding. His brother had just died. His heart had just shattered.

He shook his head in disbelief. "Sarah, my brother just died."

"I know. I'm sorry. But we also have to think about our future. You haven't been working. You used the money from the car you sold for our marriage. We're not rich, David."

Her words stabbed deeper than the news of James's death.

This was supposed to be a partnership. But all Sarah seemed to care about was herself. Her words reminded him of how much had changed. How empty his life had become. How distant he was from his true self.

He left the hospital after finalizing the paperwork for the body. He couldn't cry anymore. His tears had run dry. What remained now was silence.

They returned to the house.

But it wasn't the same.

Faith and Anita—his daughters from Mercy—heard the news and came to stay for a few days. They hugged their father and mourned their uncle. But Sarah stayed distant. She didn't comfort him. She didn't speak kindly to the girls either. It was as though she saw them as intruders.

Daniel, still young, didn't fully understand. But he saw the sadness. He watched his father stare blankly into space and listened to his steps echo through the hallways at night.

There was laughter in the house during Glory's naming ceremony.

But it wasn't his.

David couldn't laugh.

Not anymore.