Her aunt began watching her with suspicion, as if beauty itself were a kind of offense.
One night, Catherine overheard her aunt and uncle speaking through the thin wall that separated the sleeping rooms.
“We cannot continue feeding her forever,” Beatrice said.
“She works hard,” Joseph replied. “At least she brings money from the market.”
“That is not enough. My own children must come first.”
There was a pause.
Then Joseph asked quietly, “What are you suggesting?”
Beatice lowered her voice, but Catherine still heard every word.
“A man came to the village today. Strange-looking, but he seems wealthy.”
“You mean that short fat man people were laughing at in the trading center?”
“Yes. His name is Moses Bario.”
Catherine’s heart tightened.
“I heard he is looking for a wife,” Beatrice said.
Joseph gave a small laugh. “Any woman who marries that man will suffer.”
“Not if the price is right,” Beatrice replied calmly.
Silence followed.
Then Joseph said, almost in disbelief, “You are thinking of Catherine.”
Beatice did not deny it.
“We cannot keep her forever. If he pays bride price, the problem solves itself.”
Catherine stood frozen beside the wall, her hands trembling.
For the first time since losing her parents, she felt something deeper than sadness. She felt the terrifying realization that her life might soon be decided by people who did not care what she wanted.
The next afternoon, when she returned from the market carrying a basket of unsold bananas, she found several unfamiliar men sitting in the compound. Thick envelopes lay on the wooden table.
When she stepped into the yard, everyone turned to look at her.
Her aunt smiled—a cold, triumphant smile.
“Catherine,” she said, “come and greet your future husband.”
For a moment, Catherine thought she had misheard. Future husband? The words felt unreal.
Then she saw him.
Moses Bario.
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