Abby:
People say children don’t lie. But that’s not true. Children lie all the time. Sometimes because they don’t know any better. Sometimes because they do. I became a liar at ten.
It started small. A nod here. A simple “Yes, Aunty” there. At first, I didn’t even question it. It was like a game, a script I was expected to read. Uncle would ask Aunty why she spent so much time in her shop, and she would look toward me, eyes glaring, and ask:
“Abby, you saw me and that uncle go into my office, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Aunty.”
“And we were just talking, right?”
“Yes, Aunty.”
That was the truth as far as I understood it. Until the day I saw it with my own eyes.
The Day I Learned the Truth
It was a Saturday. The shop was busy, the heat unbearable. The man—Aunty’s special customer—came, just like he always did. I watched them from the corner of my eye as they whispered and giggled. And then, like clockwork, they disappeared into the back office.
I had seen this happen too many times. And I was tired of being in the dark. Heart pounding, I waited a few seconds before moving.
Carefully, I crept toward the wooden door, pressing my face against the crack. At first, I only saw shadows. And then… I saw everything.
I didn’t breathe. I couldn’t. The air felt thick, heavy, suffocating. My hands gripped the doorframe so tightly that my nails dug into the wood.
Oh, my gosh. This was what I had been vouching for? This was the business meeting?
Suddenly, the door creaked. I stumbled back just as my aunt’s eyes locked onto mine. And that’s when everything changed.
That night, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling, my stomach in knots. I had a choice. I could tell the truth. But what would that do? Destroy her marriage? Destroy my place in her home?
Or I could lie. And I already knew what that meant.
The next time her husband accused her, when she turned to me, her voice sharp and desperate, I had my answer ready.
“Abby, did you see anything?”
My lips barely moved. “No, Aunty.”
That would be my answer.
Pondering the hold I had over my aunt, I realized this was another opportunity to get what I wanted. I learned quickly that lying could buy you protection. That night, I saw the pattern—and it felt good.
And it wasn’t the last time I would trade truth for survival.
Chris:
You must understand something before I tell this story.
I was the eldest of four children. The firstborn. The one who had to be strong. The one who had to sacrifice. My parents had me and my brother barely two years apart. Then, for ten long years, they waited and prayed for another child. When the twin girls were finally born, it was as if my parents saw them as a miracle—and me as a responsibility.
Papa was a farmer. Mama was a market trader. They never had enough. Not for school fees. Definitely not for university.
So, from the age of ten, I already had a routine: Wake up before sunrise. Follow Papa to the farm. Bathe in the village stream. Pull on my worn, torn uniform. Run barefoot to school. On the way back? Straight to the farm. My younger brother, on the other hand, never had to lift a finger. He was sickly—thin as a reed, frail as paper. No matter how much he ate, he stayed weak. And because my parents feared losing him, they let him get away with everything. And I? I did all the work. And for years, I never questioned it.
Then, one day, I saw what life could be. And that changed everything.
A Glimpse of Freedom
The youth corper’s name was Sam. He had come from the city, and unlike the other teachers, he didn’t just teach. He noticed things—and he noticed me.
“You’re smart,” he told me one day after class. “You remind me of myself.”
At first, I thought he was joking. How could he be anything like me? He had been to university, had a job, had escaped. But then he told me his story.
He had been just like me—poor, overworked, the eldest in a struggling family, expected to sacrifice. But he hadn’t accepted that as his destiny. He studied harder than anyone else, and because of that, someone took notice. Someone helped him get a scholarship. Someone changed his life. And now, he wanted to help me.
So he did. Sam gave me extra homework, old exam papers, and books that smelled of dust and hope. I studied whenever I could—at the farm, under the cashew tree, even in the dead of night when my body ached for rest. And then, one day, it happened.
I got a scholarship. University to study Economics. Tuition paid. A room in the hostel. Books covered. All I needed was money for upkeep.
I remember rushing home, my heart thudding with excitement. I had done it. I could barely contain my smile as I told them. I was going to university.
For a moment, there was silence. Then, Mama spoke first.
“Son, can we cash it in? Maybe take some of the money, and you manage the rest?”
I blinked. “What?”
Papa barely looked up from his seat. “And who will help me on the farm when you go off to do… whatever it is you call it?”
I waited for someone to defend me. But no one did. The air in the room was thick, pressing against my chest. I felt the weight settle in again. The same weight I had carried since I was a boy.
I wanted to shout. To say I wasn’t a man yet. That I didn’t owe them my future. That maybe, just once, I wanted to put myself first.
But I already knew better. So I nodded. And I let the silence take me.
Two Lives. Two Secrets. One Truth.
Abby’s power came from silence.
Chris’ weakness came from silence.
One used it to get away. The other was trapped by it.
One knew the cost of keeping secrets. The other knew the cost of never speaking at all. And without realizing it, without meaning to, they were both stepping into destinies they were too young to understand.
To be continued…
