“Pastor, I committed a sin that has been drowning me for over 20 years.”
The pastor did not interrupt.
“I threw my daughters into the river. Not once, but twice, because I thought they were ugly, that they would shame me. And God—God left me alive.”
Even then, the pastor gently placed a hand on her shoulder.
“And even so, He gave you a third chance with Sod. But she is remembering. She dreams of them. The other two. It is as if the river wants to collect.”
“Maybe the river does not collect,” said the pastor softly. “Maybe it only returns.”
Bimbo returned home in silence. She saw Sod sitting on the porch, sewing the sleeve of her torn blouse. She looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.
“You are beautiful,” she said.
Sod laughed.
“Now you say it.”
“I always believed it. But now… now I see it with the eyes of my soul.”
Sod did not understand, but she felt something—an invisible weight shifting in the air.
The following week, Bimbo wrote a letter.
“My daughter, you do not know where you come from, but you need to. Before you, there were two—also my daughters, also your sisters. I threw them into the river because they were different. Because I was blind. You are the miracle God gave me to teach me how to see. Forgive me, even if I never have the courage to say it out loud.”
She hid the letter inside her Bible, tucked into the book of Proverbs.
But the village winds were stubborn, and the river was too.
The days started getting darker earlier—not because of the weather, but because of a new shadow Sod could not name. It was as if the air had changed. The lightness she and her mother used to carry on the walk home from the market had vanished.
Now every time the sun began to set, Bimbo made excuses.
“Oh, I can’t go pick you up today, daughter. I’m visiting Aunt Lara,” she would say with a forced smile.
“But Mama, you went yesterday and the day before.”
“Now she is opening a pharmacy,” Bimbo replied, her eyebrows raised. “Don’t question me, Sod. You’re a grown woman now. You don’t need a babysitter. Go alone and come straight home.”
Sod nodded, but something inside her no longer rested in peace. At first, she thought it was just her mother’s tiredness or maybe a health problem Bimbo was hiding. But no. It was something else. Something with the scent of a secret.
One muggy afternoon, the market buzzed with voices, cloth bags, rushed laughter, and flies dancing over fresh fish.
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