Outside the room, Rose paced the courtyard, her heart pounding as she watched the herbalist’s bags. “Please let him have good news,” she whispered.
The herbalist finally stepped out. She rushed to him. “How is he? Is he okay?”
The man gave her a gentle smile. “Your father is much stronger than you think.”
Rose’s eyes lit up. “You mean the herbs? Are they already working?”
The herbalist chuckled softly and patted her shoulder. “Just keep doing what you are doing. Your love is already healing him.”
Rose was confused by his words, but she nodded anyway. “Thank you. Thank you.”
Back in the city mansion, Frank was roaming the house like a roaring lion, checking documents and shaking his head. “The company is dying,” he muttered. “No money is coming in. All the investors are pulling out.”
He barged into the sitting room, where Agatha and Cynthia were watching television. “Mama! Cynthia! If we don’t act fast, the company is going to shut down completely.”
Agatha shouted, “Act fast again? Frank, we are not selling anything else! You can close down that ridiculous fashion brand you opened.”
Cynthia rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you sell your own car this time?”
Frank glared at her. “Don’t be stupid.”
David walked in from outside, overhearing the argument. He laughed, a bitter, harsh sound. “We are not selling anything. Maybe you should sell that new house of yours.”
Frank jumped up. “At least I’m trying to save the company, not just sitting around doing nothing like you!”
David pointed at him. “Save the company? You’re the one who ruined it! From the moment you took over, all you’ve done is waste money and show off!”
“Keep talking!” Frank barked. “You’re just jealous because I’m the first son!”
“Jealous?” David shouted. “You’re insane!”
They rushed at each other again. Cynthia screamed. “Stop it, you fools! You’ll bring the whole roof down!”
Agatha just stood up slowly, tired of all the shouting, and walked out of the room. She had no idea the real storm was just beginning.
Back in the village, for the first time in many long weeks, Chief Williams walked out of the small hut, leaning lightly on Rose’s arm. He wasn’t pretending now. He was just tired. Truly, deeply tired. Not from sickness, but from a broken heart.
The extended family gathered around, clapping and cheering. “The Chief is getting better! Thank God! We will continue to pray.”
An elder pulled Rose aside. “My daughter,” he said, “your father’s spirit is strong. You take good care of him, and he will live a long life.”
Rose smiled, though her eyes were still wet. “Thank you, sir.”
That night, Chief Williams sat under the stars on a simple wooden chair, covered in a thick wrapper. He looked around at the quiet compound, smelled the woodsmoke from the cooking fires, and listened to the soft sounds of crickets. He felt a sense of peace, something he hadn’t felt in years.
He whispered to himself, “Maybe… maybe this is the beginning of something new.”
That evening in the village, the sky turned a brilliant orange as the sun slowly disappeared behind the palm trees. The compound was calm, with a soft breeze sweeping through the trees. Chief Williams sat quietly under the large mango tree, staring at the dusty ground.
Rose came out with a warm bowl of yam porridge and placed it beside him. “Daddy, please eat something. You haven’t touched anything since this morning.”
He looked up at her. His eyes were tired, but there was a new peace in them. “Rose,” he said gently, “sit down, my daughter. There is something I must tell you.”..
