Benita froze. Her worst fear was happening right before her eyes.
“I said go in there, pack your things, and leave my house now.”
Just then, Williams rushed into the living room.
“Evelyn, please calm down. We can handle this gently,” he said, trying to steady the situation.
“Williams, if you know what is good for you, tell this girl to pack her things and leave this moment.”
“I can’t!” Benita suddenly shouted.
The words escaped before she could stop herself.
“I can’t leave because I’m carrying your child.”
The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.
Williams stared at her, stunned.
“You are what?” he asked slowly.
Benita’s heart pounded wildly in her chest. She had not planned to say it. It just slipped out—desperate, reckless, a last attempt to avoid being thrown out.
But now there was no going back.
“You heard me,” she said, trying to steady her voice. “I’m pregnant.”
As if nature had decided the tension in the room was not enough, the door suddenly opened.
Mama Williams walked in carrying tubers of yam in her hands. She stopped immediately, looking around at their faces.
“What is going on here?” she asked. “Did someone die?”
For a brief moment, no one spoke.
Williams opened his mouth to explain, but before he could say a word, Benita suddenly dropped to the floor.
“Mama!” she cried loudly. “I’m carrying your son’s child, and his wife wants to throw me out!”
She burst into tears, crying uncontrollably.