Chapter 175: THE HIT

LEITANA

“How is mi Rosie?” I asked, staring at Marita with my heart so full it felt like it would burst right there in the middle of the big living room.

Marita’s smile was bright at first, but then it softened, like a cloud passing over the sun. She reached out and took my hands, squeezing them gently the way she always did when we were small girls hiding under the mango tree back home.

“Rosie… she dey fine, Lei. But she miss you bad bad. Every night she still ask, ‘When Leitana coming back?’ She no understand why you gone so far.”

My eyes filled with tears immediately. Rosie was only five, with those big curious eyes and the way she used to cling to my leg when the older girls teased her. She was like my own little baby sister.

“Mi miss her so much. And Mother Superior?” I asked, voice shaking. “How she dey? And the other sisters… Sister Agnes, Sister Therese, all of dem? The yard still green? The chapel bell still ring sweet in the morning?”

Marita looked down at our joined hands. Her smile dimmed again. She tried to hide it, but I knew her too well. We grew up sharing one blanket, sharing secrets, sharing tears.

“Marita… what’s the problem?” I asked softly, tilting my head so I could see her face.

Marita shook her head quickly, forcing a laugh.

“No, no. Mi fine. Everything dey okay.”

I squeezed her hand gently.

“Yu no fit lie to mi. Mi know when people lie. Yu eyes dey tell different story.”

She gave a small chuckle, but it sounded sad.

“Mi miss that. The way you always know when mi lying.”

Then her shoulders dropped. She took a deep breath, like the words were heavy inside her chest.

“Di orphanage… e no dey good, Leitana. E worse than before yu leave. Food no dey enough. Sometimes we only get one meal for the whole day. Di roof dey leak when rain come, an’ some rooms dey full of water.

Mother Superior had to let go of some girls—the ones wey turn 18 or 19 an’ no want join convent. She say she no fit feed dem anymore. Some girls wey stay till 24 before, now dem gone. Dem just leave. No job, no nothing. Dem go out into di world with only the clothes on dem back. She cry when she do am, but she say she no fit feed everybody. It pain her heart.”

Never in all my life at the orphanage—since I was a tiny baby left at the gate—had the sisters ever sent girls away. Even when times were hard, we stayed. Some girls remained until they were 24, helping with the little ones, learning skills, waiting for a job or a good suitor.

That was how it always was.

The orphanage was family.

Now they were letting them go?

Tears filled my eyes.

“Tell mi yu joking. Dem really send girls away?”

Marita nodded, her own eyes glistening.

“E get extremely bad, Lei. Di donations from overseas no dey come like before. Di church help small, but no enough. Mother Superior cry every night when she think no one dey watch. She pray an’ pray, but di food still no dey.

Di girls wey leave… some write back. One dey sleeping for street. Another dey working for bad man just to eat.”

I covered my mouth, sobbing quietly. Guilt hit me like a wave. I grew up there. That was my home. My sisters. And while I was here in this big, beautiful house with soft beds and plenty food, they were suffering.

“What about you?” I asked through tears.

“You still dey there, abi? You no leave?”

Marita gave a small, tired smile.

“Mi was supposed to leave. You know mi no want be nun. But then your husband send message say make I come stay with you because you pregnant and missing home. So mi still dey. That’s why mi here now.”

I cried harder, tears falling fast. Rosie—my little Rosie who used to fall asleep on my chest during evening prayers. She must be scared and confused.

Marita reached into her small bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper, edges slightly crumpled.

“Rosie give me this letter for you. She try write am herself. She say mi must give am to yu when mi see yu.”

I took the letter with shaking hands. The paper was thin and worn, written in childish, wobbly letters with crayon. Rosie was only five—she could barely write—but someone must have helped her.

\---

“Dear Leitana,

Mi miss yu every day.

Mi cry every night.

When yu go, di bed feel cold.

Mi no get anyone to sing for mi before sleep.

Mother Superior say yu dey happy for America wit’ yu new family.

Mi happy for yu, but mi still cry.

Mi want yu come back small small. Even one day.

Mi save one mango for yu.

E small but sweet.

Mi keep am under mi pillow.

Please come back soon.

Your small sister,

Rosie”

\---

I read it out loud, my voice breaking on every word. By the time I finished, I was crying so hard my chest hurt. Marita pulled me into her arms and rocked me gently, the way we used to rock the babies when they were sick.

“Shhh, Lei… it go be okay. She strong small girl. But yes… she miss you terrible.”

The guilt twisted inside me. I grew up in that orphanage. I knew every corner, every prayer, every hungry night we shared bread and hope. I should have found a way to help them.

I pulled back, wiping my face with shaky hands.

“Mi go find mi husband,” I said, voice thick but determined.

“Mi need to help mi sisters. I no fit sit here and do nothing while dem dey suffer.”

Marita stood with me, worry in her eyes.

“Lei, where you dey go now?”

I was already moving toward the door, heart pounding.

“Mi go talk to Ravial. He go understand. We go find way to send food, fix the roof, bring the girls here if they want. Mi no go let them stay like that.”

My tears were still falling, but now they were mixed with something stronger—the fire Papa God put in my heart for the ones I love.

Because family is not just blood.

Family is the ones who held you when you were small and scared.

And I was not going to forget them.

I reached for the door handle.

But the moment my fingers touched the wood, something slammed into my chest with terrible force and I went flying backward.

The impact knocked the air out of my lungs. I hit the floor hard, sliding across the polished wood. Pain exploded in my back and shoulder. For a second, everything spun.

I gasped, trying to breathe, but it felt like a heavy stone was sitting on my chest.

Marita screamed.

“Leitana!”

I collapsed against the wall, coughing, eyes wide with shock and fear. My hand went to my chest where the blow had landed. It throbbed hot and sharp.

What… what was that?

I looked up, dazed, toward the doorway.

A tall figure stood there, dark and still, blocking the light from the hallway.

My heart stuttered.

It was not Ravial.