When an unexpected journey filled with friendship, betrayal, hidden family secrets, and the mystery of a long-forgotten legendary artist changes the course of a young woman’s life, you know you’re in for a thrilling ride.
The Watch My Grandmother Left Me is a heartwarming story about legacy, self-worth, and the surprising ways destiny finds us.
My phone was already buzzing by the time I got home, but I didn’t bother checking the messages because I knew it was definitely my friends blowing up my phone.
I took off my roommate’s wig and laid it on the bed. I was exhausted from the day’s activities with the girls, so I started rummaging through my wardrobe, looking for a nylon bag to put the borrowed wig in, when my phone rang. I left what I was doing and picked it up.
*”My Mom”* stared back at me, the phone’s backlight illuminating my face.
I picked the call.
“Hello, Mommy…”
My mom’s voice came from the other end. “Aah ah, Yemi, you haven’t been answering my messages on WhatsApp. I thought you said you were only going out with your friends. What is going on? Where are you?”
I rolled my eyes at my mom’s usual display of paranoia and affection.
“Mom, I am fine… I’m back home. Yes, I truly went out with Susan, Nancy, and Becky, but something else happened…” Something I never thought would ever happen to me.
“What happened?!” I could hear the panic in my mom’s voice.
“Nothing bad, Mom… in fact, it’s good news… but wait, I have some questions I want to ask.”
The events of the day flooded my mind, and I immediately remembered that I had said I was going to ask about the wristwatch.
“Oya tell me, abi you met a new boy?”
Her suggestion shocked me, and I almost choked on my spit.
“Ah Mommy, see, me and boys are not in the same sentence now o. I have important things to do with my life. The last time I trusted a boy—”
My mom definitely knew where I was going with that statement, so she cut me off.
“Yemi! What Kamchukwu did is not to be excused, and I have told you to let me help you, but you never listen… but please don’t give up on lo—”
I didn’t even wait for her to finish.
“Can I go to Mama’s house this weekend?”
The sudden change of topic created tension on the line.
“Why? You know I told you renovations are about to start this weekend. We are selling the house.”
I know my mom is still grieving her dear mother, but I had urgent questions that needed urgent answers.
“I know, Mom. I just wanted to check if there are some valuables I could pick up. You know how fashionable Mama was. I loved the things she wore whenever she came around.”
Another silence and I can’t lie I dont know the reason.
Her aunt—(my grandmother’s distant cousin) had decided that it was her right to inherit my grandmother’s belongings instead of my mother, her only daughter. Her excuse was that my mother never showed up to care for her mother when she was ill, so she deserved to be compensated for everything she had done for Mama through her inheritance.
In my mom’s defence, she couldn’t visit during that period because she was doing her Master’s degree in Canada. Those were the years she struggled as a student and immigrant in the freezing cold. But my aunt never wanted to hear any of that. According to her, my mother should have found a way.
So, the resentment my aunt has towards my mother runs deep.
But that wasn’t going to stop me from getting answers.
“Mom, I’m not going to take long, I promise,” I said.
“Okay… tell me, how was your hangout?” she reluctantly agreed before moving on to what was probably the most intriguing part of my day.
By this time, I had sat on my bed and picked up the complimentary card from my bag. I contemplated telling my mom about it. What would she think?
“Hello? Are you there?” My mom’s voice jolted me out of my thoughts.
“Yes, Mommy, I’m here… the hangout was fine.”
A sigh of relief escaped her. I knew she was worried because I had complained several times that my friends hadn’t been acting nicely towards me. But I couldn’t tell her that they had embarrassed me again. She wouldn’t have it.
She had told me countless times to let her help me, but I had stubbornly put my foot down that I could fend for myself.
“Okay, it’s late already, dear. I know you have work tomorrow, so I’ll let you rest. Good night, my dear,” she said, yawning through the last sentence.
“Good night, Mom. Help me greet Daddy.”
The call ended.
I looked back at the card in my hand, my mind reeling.
What if this was all a setup?
Why would Imade Kuti’s daughter have anything to do with me?
My parents are comfortable, but we’re nowhere near rich.
I don’t know what might come out of this.
Just then, I heard my roommate unlocking the front door, and I knew she was back.
So, I dropped my phone, picked up the nylon bag I had earlier left on the bed, and neatly put her wig inside it. Then I opened my bedroom door to meet her in the hallway.
“Hi, Nancy…”
.
.
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Hahahah , you’re surprised Nancy is the roommate, right?
But then, why was she acting that way towards Yemi at the hangout?
Hold tight as I unravel this mystery!
Comment **UNRAVEL** for the next part!!
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