"Where Did You Go?!"

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Suddenly, the rain started as soon as Ijeoma realized something was wrong.

It was not the kind of soft rain that cooled the air after a hot day—it was the kind that slammed against rooftops like warning drums, loud like a war cry, and voilent like an angry god pounding on the heavens. Ijeoma stood at the window watching the rain with her five-year-old son, Tobenna, clutching her phone, staring at the empty compound below. Her husband, Emeka, was supposed to be home hours ago.

"He always called. He always does," Ijeoma reasoned.

However, not today.

"Where did you go, Emeka?" she asked herself while soliloquizing as she paced up and down the room.

Their marriage had its shadows—what marriage didn't? However, Emeka was quite dependable. He was a lecturer at the University of Nigeria, Nsukka, a man of routine, precise and explicit. A kiss on the cheek at exactly 7:15 a.m., the same seat at the dinner table, weekend drives with his son, Tobenna.

But it was now 11:55 p.m.

The street was now quieter than usual, as if the night itself were holding its breath, waiting for something unseen to pass. Ijeoma tried calling several times, but her calls kept going to voicemail.

"This is so frustrating... Emeka, where are you, na?!" she exclaimed, tears in her eyes, sitting and standing up almost immediately.

The next morning, Ijeoma wore her thickest wrapper and went straight to the police station.

"Have you checked the hospitals?" the officer asked, barely lifting his eyes.

"Yes, I have," she replied, trying to control her tears from falling down her chin.

"And...?!" the officer requested, still looking down.

"And nothing, sir," she replied simply with a sobbing voice.

The officer scribbled lazily on a form and finally looked at her and said, "Maybe he needed space. Men disappear sometimes, especially when they feel they can't just tell you; instead, they just vanish into thin air like ghost in horror movies. Don't worry, Madam, he'll be back soon." The officer comforted her sarcastically.

"Not my husband," she snapped.

"Ah, Madam, please keep your voice down, or otherwise you will be arrested for noise pollution. Anyway, we'll see what we can do. Just go home. Drop your number. We will call you as soon as we notice anything or may ask for your presence for further questioning," the officer said, looking away.

Ijeoma sighed and walked out of the station feeling as lifeless as a withered leaf, as empty as a forgotten well, as drained as a used teacup, and as numb as cold stone. "What do I do now, God?" she took a long breath as she thought silently while walking home.

Days past. Five. Then ten. The compound grew much quieter, as if mourning with her. Neighbors stopped asking questions. Tobenna, constantly stared at the door every night as though wishing his father would walk through that door one day.

"Mummy!" Tobenna called with a gentle yet searching voice. "What if Dad is just lost," he continued, "and could not find his way back home?" he asked in a suggestive tone, almost about to cry.

Ijeoma pulled him into her arms. "Then, my son, we'll find him," she answered with a burning fire of zeal in her eyes while trying to conceal her almost falling tears.

However, she wasn't sure anymore.

Behold!

On the fifteenth day, she found a letter.

The letter that brought clarity... and closure.

It was tucked behind the photo frame on their bedside table.

Written in Emeka's cursive.

It said:

Ije,
I'm so sorry.
You have to find out this way.
There are things I never told you.
I didn't mean for it to happen this way.
I needed to find answers for myself.
If I had told you,
you wouldn't let this process happen.
I needed to go through this alone.
Do not look for me; I am well.
Please, take care of Tobenna.

—E.

Her hands shook as she read it again.

"What answers?!" she exclaimed, with tears now rushing down her cheeks like raindrops tumbling from a stormy sky, unchecked and relentless.

"What exactly does he mean by 'he needed to do this alone'?" she asked, soliloquizing.

The next day, she returned to the University. His office door was still locked.

"Thank Goodness, I have a spare key," she muttered to herself.

She unlocked the door, sat in his chair, totally confused about what clues to look for. Suddenly, she reached for his drawers, pulled them open, and searched, also searching his files, and even behind the bookshelf. Then she saw it—an old student ID tucked into a textbook, with the name:

"Chisom Nwankwo." She whispered.

A lady...

Ijeoma searched for further clues by tracking the name to an identity. She used the tracking faculty list and found out that Chisom Nwankwo lived in a small flat near the campus. Ijeoma immediately recognized the building and headed there right away. Reaching to the door, she knocked...

"Knock! knock!" she knocked impatiently.

Immediately, a lady opened the door, and Ijeoma's eyes widened with shock.

"Are you Chisom?" Ijeoma asked, calmly.

"Yes." Chisom answered swiftly. "And you're... his wife," she confirmed with conviction, without any questioning.

"Yes," Ijeoma answered simply with a nod.

Suddenly, there was silence.

"Please, come in and sit down," Chisom kindly offered. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked calmly.

"No, thanks, However, is there something you would like me to know... about my husband's whereabouts?" she asked in anticipation, wide-eyed.

Then Chisom said, "Although he came to see me, it was only once, two weeks ago. He looked... stressed, lost, and curious. He said he didn't know who he was anymore. That's all I know," Chisom said calmly, with a pitiful expression.

"Thank you," Ijeoma said with teary eyes.
Suddenly, she felt like her breath was leaving her in pieces.

Ijeoma gently stood up from her chair, "Did he, by any chance, tell you where he was going?" she asked, trying to conceal her already teary eyes.

"No. But he left this." Chioma stretched out her right hand and handed her a sealed envelope.

Ijeoma received it with utmost gratitude and walked home feeling optimistic. "Maybe this is the clue or answer I have been waiting for," she whispered to herself, consolingly.

In the quiet of her bedroom that night, Ijeoma opened it.

Inside was a small note and a photograph.

The note read:

Ije, I found my real father. If you have found this letter by now, that means I am already in Jos. I went to Jos to meet him. I need to comprehend who I really am. I'm not abandoning you. I can never do that. I love you. I'm rebuilding myself for a better me, and for you and Tobenna. I will be back soon, my love.
Stay strong.
Stay calm.
Stay happy.

—E.

The photo showed a man who looked exactly like Emeka—older, with the same nose and the same furrowed brow. A man Ijeoma had never seen before.

Eventually, Emeka returned after five weeks.

He just stood at the gate like a stranger.

He looked thin, distressed, with tired eyes and an overgrown beard.

*Ijeoma," he whispered.

Ijeoma and Tobenna rushed out to hug him.

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"Dad... but where did you go?" Tobenna asked with a sobbing voice.

And this time, Emeka told them everything—about the emptiness he had buried for years.

His journey was worth it.

THANKS A LOT FOR READING ME