She looked at him.
Okon did not look away.
“I have many of these,” he said.
The recording stopped.
Silence returned.
Okon’s voice became heavier.
“You always assured me that Mother was fine. But guess who I found on the roadside weeks ago?” he said. “Our mother. She was on the street begging for food.”
Chida’s lips parted, but no words came out.
“She was hungry,” Okon continued. “Weak. Alone.”
Tears gathered in Chida’s eyes.
“I have been sending money every month,” Okon said. “For years. I never missed it.”
He leaned closer.
“So tell me, Chida. Where did the money go?”
“I… I didn’t mean for things to get like this,” she said.
Okon’s eyes stayed fixed on her.
“But it did,” he replied.
She shook her head slowly.
“I can explain,” she said in a low voice.
Okon looked at her, his face serious.
“Then start explaining right now,” he said harshly.
The room went quiet again.
Chida’s lips trembled. For a moment, no words came out.
Okon watched her carefully, his eyes fixed on her, his face set with controlled anger.
“Chida, talk to me,” he said, his voice sharp.
Tears slipped down her face.
“It’s not as simple as you think,” she said.
Okon leaned back slightly.
“Then help me understand,” he replied.
Chida drew in a deep breath, trying to steady herself.
“My husband,” she began, then paused, as if the words themselves were heavy.
Okon did not interrupt.
“At the beginning of our marriage, everything was fine,” she continued quietly. “He was kind, patient, responsible. I believed I had made the right choice.”
She gave a faint, broken smile.
“But after some years, things started to change. Not suddenly, just little by little.”
Okon’s gaze remained fixed on her.
“He began to take interest in everything,” she said. “How I spent money, who I spoke to, even small decisions.”
She wiped her face.
“At first, I didn’t think much of it. I thought maybe it was just concern.”
She paused.
“But it didn’t stop there.”
Her voice dropped.
“He started insisting that, as my husband, he should be the one handling all the money that came into the house.”
Okon’s expression hardened slightly, but he remained silent.
“When you sent money,” she continued, “he would ask about it. At first, he only wanted to know how much. Then he began to demand access.”
She looked down at her hands.
“I resisted in the beginning,” she said. “I told him it was meant for my mother. That it was your effort.”
She shook her head slowly.
“He didn’t see it that way.”
A quiet pause settled between them.
“He would say things like, ‘Everything that comes into this house belongs to this house.’”
Okon exhaled slowly, his jaw tightening.
Chida continued, her voice unsteady.
“Over time, he gained access to my phone, my bank app, everything. He stopped me from going to the bank to access my account.”
Her fingers trembled slightly.
“I lost control over my account.”
Okon looked at her more closely now.
“The money you sent for Mother, for the house,” she said, her voice breaking. “He took it.”
She closed her eyes briefly.
“He used it for his own plans, his own needs. Things I could not question. I lived in fear.”
She looked up at Okon.
“He would always remind me that if I went against him, if I exposed anything, he would end the marriage.”
Her voice dropped even further.
“And he would take the children with him.”
Okon’s expression changed.
That part landed heavily.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Chida said. “I kept thinking maybe I could fix things quietly. Maybe it would get better.”
She shook her head slowly.
“But it never did.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
“And the more time passed, the worse everything became.”
Okon said nothing.
“I knew what was happening to Mother was wrong,” she continued, her voice filled with pain. “I knew it every single day.”
She pressed her lips together.
“But I was already trapped.”
A long silence followed.
Then she spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I could not tell you because I knew you would confront him.”
She looked directly at Okon now.
“And if you did, it would have destroyed everything.”
Okon’s eyes did not leave hers.
“My marriage. My children’s home,” she said. “Everything would have fallen apart.”
Her shoulders dropped.
“So I kept quiet. Even when I shouldn’t have.”
Tears streamed down her face without restraint.
“It is all my fault,” she said.
Okon’s expression shifted slightly.
“I saw what was happening,” she continued. “I knew it was wrong, but I stayed.”
Her voice broke completely.
“I was too afraid to walk away from a man who was slowly destroying my family.”
The words hung heavily in the air.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Okon leaned back slowly, taking everything in.
The anger that had filled him earlier was no longer as sharp. Now it was mixed with something deeper.
Understanding.
Pain.
And quiet disappointment.
He looked at his sister again.
Really looked at her.
Not just at her words, but at the weight she had been carrying.
And for the first time since the confrontation began, the situation no longer looked as simple as betrayal.
Moments later, Okon stood slowly.
He looked at Chida for a moment.
“Come with me. I want you to see our mother,” he said quietly.
Chida hesitated for a brief second, then nodded.
“All right,” she said.
They left the restaurant together and got into the car.
The journey was quiet.
No music. No conversation.
Only silence between them.
But it was not an empty silence.
It was heavy.
Each of them was thinking deeply in their own way, trying to understand everything that had just been revealed.
After a while, the car pulled into the apartment building.
