The Unexpected Visitor
On her third day at Nkechi's, Favour heard a knock at the door thinking it was the neighbor or delivery, she opened it casually and froze.
It was Daniel's father.
"Good evening, sir," she said, almost breathless.
"May I come in?"
She stepped aside slowly. Nkechi emerged from the kitchen, surprised but respectful. "Good evening, Daddy."
"I need to speak to her alone."
They sat across from each other in the small living room. His eyes calm, weathered never left hers.
"My son is in pain," he said gently.
"I know. she whispered i was wrong.
"He told me everything. And I told him something he did not expect, i told him he was partly to blame."
Favour's head shot up.
"You see," he continued, "Daniel is like me. We build expectations in our heads and call them love. But love… real love is not a statue, It's clay, it must be molded."
Favour's lip trembled.
"I don't excuse your lie," he said. "But I do see something in your eyes now that wasn't there before."
He reached into his pocket and brought out a wrapped paper package. It was old, slightly torn, inside was a yellowing photo of a much younger Daniel, in the kitchen, beside his late sister, they were cooking.
"He learned to cook after she died," the man said. "It was his way of healing. Food, to him, is sacred."
Favour swallowed. "I never knew."
He stood. "Learn, Favour, not just how to cook but how to heal, only then can you ask to be forgiven."
And then, just like that, he was gone.