The name hung in the air.
Mami Ajoa froze. For the first time since the ceremony began, her composure broke.
“How do you know that name?” she asked slowly.
Even Afia looked confused. “Mom, what is she talking about?”
Madam Awusi stepped forward again, her voice steady but filled with something deeper. “I knew you many years ago,” she said.
The crowd leaned in, sensing that something important was about to be revealed.
Boma lowered the knife slightly. His attention was now fully on his mother. “What do you mean?” he asked.
Madam Awusi looked directly at Mami Ajoa. “Do you remember,” she said, “what you did twenty-eight years ago?”
Mami Ajoa’s face lost its color.
Silence spread across the gathering, and in that moment it became clear to everyone that the real test at this wedding was not about a tree. It was about a truth that had been hidden for decades.
The entire gathering fell into complete silence. Boma slowly lowered the knife, his focus no longer on the tree, but on his mother and Mami Ajoa. Afia stood frozen, her eyes moving between the two women, trying to understand what was unfolding.
“Answer me,” Madam Awusi said, her voice steady. “Do you remember?”
Mami Ajoa tried to regain her composure, but her voice betrayed her. “I do not know what you are talking about.”
Madam Awusi took another step forward. “Then let me remind you.”
The crowd leaned in, sensing that something serious was about to be revealed.
“Twenty-eight years ago,” Madam Awusi continued, “you lived in a small village. You were known as Ajoa Mansa.”
A ripple moved through the guests.
Mami Ajoa shook her head slightly. “That has nothing to do with this.”
“It has everything to do with this,” Madam Awusi replied.
She paused for a moment, then spoke again.
“You gave birth to a baby boy, and you abandoned him.”
A collective gasp rose from the crowd. Afia’s eyes widened.
