PART 2: THE PREGNANT WOMAN’S ESCAPE 😱

“They’re after my life…” the pregnant woman whispered, trembling so badly she could barely speak.

My father’s eyes swept over the surrounding bushes, alert, scanning every shadow. He understood immediately: the man we had seen earlier wasn’t hunting aimlessly. He was hunting her. But why? What had she done to deserve this?

Without a word, my father signaled for her to stay low and hide. She obeyed, pressing herself into the foliage, shivering. The tension was electric. Every snapped twig and rustle of leaves made my heart pound.

After several tense minutes, my father stepped back cautiously, ensuring the man was gone. Then, with a gentle nod, he motioned for her to follow. She struggled to her feet, unsteady, but moved slowly behind us.

We led her to a small hut near the farm—a place we sometimes used to rest during work. Once inside, silence enveloped us.

Finally, my father spoke, his voice softer now. — “Why are they after you?”

The woman wiped her tear-streaked face and sat down, adjusting herself with effort. Her body still shook violently, the fear palpable. A tear fell from her cheek as she sniffed quietly.

My father softened. — “Do you need food? Water? Wait here. I’ll bring something.”

She nodded, exhausted. I followed him out, unable to stay alone with her under such peril.

We returned shortly, carrying bananas and a small amount of water from the farm’s keg. She grabbed the food and began eating quickly, almost desperately.

— “I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon,” she admitted quietly.

— “Eat,” my father instructed gently.

I couldn’t help but notice how weak she looked. One leg bore bruises; part of her skin was scraped, slightly bleeding. My father sighed heavily.

— “You should rest after eating. Lie down here. I have to return to the farm, but I’ll come back for you. You’ll be safe.”

Fear flashed across her face, but my father reassured her. — “No one will harm you here.”

She lay down slowly, giving in to exhaustion. We waited a few moments before stepping out quietly.

Back at the farm, my father resumed work, though unease lingered. Suddenly, he paused. The man. He had returned. Masked. Searching. Still relentless.

My father’s expression hardened. He began muttering incantations under his breath, a ritual he had learned to invoke protection. Not a believer in organized religion, he relied on ancient traditions, the power of juju.

— “Come here,” he called.

The masked man frowned, hesitant. Then, almost imperceptibly, his body relaxed. He approached calmly, as if under some spell.

— “Give me the gun,” my father demanded.

Without resistance, the man reached into his pocket and handed it over. My father’s eyes bore into him. — “Who are you looking for? What is your mission here?”

The man replied flatly: — “I’m looking for a woman who escaped. I was sent to eliminate her.”

My father clicked his tongue. — “Toor…” he muttered, shaking his head. — “This is your last job. Go. Follow that path. Don’t answer anyone. Keep walking. When you reach another village, remove your clothes and start counting sand.”

The man laughed, incredulous. — “Is that all?”

— “Yes,” my father said calmly. — “Now go.”

The man removed his sandals, bowed slightly, and walked away without a backward glance. My father watched him vanish before hissing under his breath. — “Bastard.”

We returned to the hut after ensuring the path was clear. She was resting but alert, fear still evident in every small movement. Her pregnancy made her steps slow, each one a reminder of the stakes she faced.

— “You’re safe now,” my father reassured, placing a protective hand on her shoulder.

Her lips quivered as she whispered: — “I thought I was already dead…”

My father shook his head. — “Not while I’m here. You’ll get through this. Trust me.”

Outside, the wind rustled through the trees. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the farm. We all knew the danger wasn’t gone; it was merely delayed. Whoever had sent the masked man would return if their target slipped through their grasp.

But for the moment, she was safe. For the moment, she had food, shelter, and a promise of protection. Yet the whisper in her voice, the tremble in her hands, told us she carried secrets—and enemies—more dangerous than any we had yet faced.

And as we prepared for nightfall, one thought lingered in my mind: this was only the beginning.

To be continued…