The Empty seat

It wasn't the applause that stayed with her.

Not the principal's speech. Not the way the sun bounced off the camera flashes. Not even the smell of freshly ironed gowns.

It was the seat.

The empty one in the fourth row, beside her mom. Reserved. Waiting. Untouched.

Someone had written "DAD" in bold black ink on a folded cardboard tag. She didn't know who had placed it there, or why. But she hated that they did.

Back home, the house was quiet. Her gown lay folded on the sofa, and the living room hummed with a silence so loud it pressed against her chest.

Her mom entered from the kitchen, wiping her hands with a towel.

"You did well today," she said gently, handing Ixora a bowl of jollof rice. "I'm proud of you."

Ixora sat without a word, pushing her spoon into the food, not really eating.

Her mother noticed but said nothing—at first.

But Ixora couldn't hold it anymore.

She looked up, voice low and cracking.

"Why didn't he come?

The air shifted. Her mother's smile faded. The warmth in the room began to dim.

"Ixora..."

"Did he know? Did he care? Or did he just forget—again?"

Her mom sat down slowly, her fingers tightening around the towel. "I didn't want today to be about him."

"But it was!" Ixora snapped. "Everyone else had their fathers. And I had an empty seat like some reminder that I wasn't worth staying for."

Her mother exhaled shakily. "Your father… had his faults. But he isn't a monster."

"Then why do you keep defending him?" Her voice trembled now. "He left you. He left me. And you still speak like he deserves kindness."

There was silence. Then her mom replied gently:

"Because you don't become a bad person because someone else hurt you. If I teach you that, then I fail you as a mother."

Ixora blinked. Her heart throbbed.

She realized ... Her mom is hurting too

Not just once. Every time she had to explain, or hide it, or pretend it didn't matter—it must've hurt like hell.

She stared at her mother—this strong woman who smiled through heartbreak and still made dinner like nothing cracked inside her.

And it made Ixora furious all over again.

"You didn't deserve to be hurt like that."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"He broke your heart, and you still cover for him. You still protect his image. Why?"

Her mother just looked at her, tired but loving.

Ixora stood up, throat tight. "I can't do this right now."

She stormed into her room, shut the door, and pulled out her journal. Her hand trembled slightly as she began to write.

"She hurts too. I saw it tonight."

"And somehow, even in all that pain, she still speaks kindly of him. She still shields me from her bitterness, just so I don't carry it too."

"But I'm tired. I'm tired of carrying questions. I'm tired of the emptiness he left in me. And I'm tired of watching her pretend she's not still bleeding."

 "I don't even remember him. Not his voice, not his laugh. I wouldn't know him if he passed me on the street."

"I often wonder if he ever loved me."

"There were times, when I was younger, that Mom would try to call him late at night. I'd be awake, pretending to be asleep. But the line was always busy. Even at 1 a.m. Like it was never meant to ring through to us."

"He made himself unreachable."

"But one thing I know—I'll never be a girl a man can toss aside."

"And I'll give my mother the life she deserved. The happiness she never asked for but always earned."

"In two weeks, I'll be off to college. New people, new place, new fears. I hope I cope. I hope I find my place."

"But even if I don't… I won't come back empty.

The next morning, sunlight spilled softly through the window.

Ixora stepped into the kitchen. The scent of warm plantain and fried eggs filled the air. The kitchen, small but cozy, smelled like safety. Family photos lined the wall above the fridge, and a little potted aloe plant sat by the window, soaking up light.

Her mom stood by the stove, humming gently.

"Mom?"

She turned.

"I'm sorry. For last night. I shouldn't have put you in that tight spot.

She smiled sweetly and opened her arms inviting her daughter to a warm hug,She patted ixora's back telling her it was ok.

After what happened yesterday,I figured you needed to let It out .

Ixora smiled at her mum whilst snuffling her clothes enjoying the scent of vanilla on her.

The two ladies chatted away happily until it was time for Mrs orlah to go to the convenience store she worked at during the weekends. 

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