His sister got married and left the family house. She no longer stayed with their mother.
From that moment, it became harder for Okon to reach his mother directly. At some point, he stopped hearing her voice completely. He only spoke with his sister.
And each time he called, his sister would always say the same thing.
“Don’t worry. Mother is fine. I just visited her not long ago. She also sends her regards.”
Sometimes, Okon would ask her directly, “Please, whenever you go to see her, just call me so I can speak with her myself.”
But his sister would always find an excuse.
“Ah, the network there is very bad. My phone has no signal. Sometimes calls don’t go through in that area.”
At times, she would even say, “I tried to call you while I was there, but it wasn’t connecting.”
And just like that, Okon would have no choice but to believe her.
He believed they were doing well.
He believed they were safe.
He believed they were living in comfort now, since he had been sending money every month.
That belief stayed in his heart all the way until that morning.
As the SUV drove through traffic, his eyes moved slowly across the roadside.
Then suddenly, he saw something that made him sit up straight.
At first, he was not sure.
He looked again.
A woman was sitting close to the roadside. Old, tired, holding a small bowl in her hands. She was begging for help.
Okon’s heart slowed.
He leaned closer to the window.
As the car got nearer, he strained his eyes, trying hard to see the woman more clearly from a distance.
“No. No. That face,” he whispered.
He quickly tapped the driver’s seat.
“Stop the car,” he said sharply.
The driver slowed down at once and pulled over.
Okon did not wait.
He opened the door and stepped out quickly.
The noise of the road faded in his ears.
His eyes stayed on the woman.
He walked closer, step by step.
Then he stopped.
His face went still.
It was his mother.
Mrs. Madara.
She sat there, weak, holding the bowl close to her chest. Her clothes were old and worn out. Her body looked like she had not eaten well for many years.
Okon’s mouth opened, but at first, no words came out.
Then he spoke slowly.
“Mother.”
The woman lifted her head.
Her eyes met his.
For a moment, she did not move.
Then her hands began to shake.
“Okon,” she said in a low voice.
Tears filled her eyes as she tried to stand, but her legs could not hold her well.
Okon rushed forward and held her.
“Don’t stand. Please, don’t stand yet,” he said quickly.
He looked around, confused and upset.
“Why are you here? What happened?”
Mrs. Madara tried to speak, but her voice was weak.
Before she could finish, Okon gently helped her up.
“Come with me,” he said.
He guided her carefully back to the SUV.
People on the road watched quietly.
Okon helped his mother into the car and sat beside her. She was still trembling, tears in her eyes, overwhelmed by the shock of seeing the son she had not seen in twelve years.
Okon looked at the driver.
“Turn around,” he said. “To the nearest hospital.”
The driver did not ask questions. He turned immediately.
As the SUV pulled back into traffic, Okon held his mother’s hand tightly.
But in his mind, one question kept repeating.
“If I have been sending money all these years, then why is my mother like this?”
At the hospital, Mr. Okon sat in the reception area waiting.
His mother had been taken into the examination room earlier. His mind would not rest.
After some time, a doctor walked out and came to meet him.
