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Sometimes life throws us into situations that test not just our patience but the very core of our humanity. This story is one of those heavy moments, and it leaves behind a question that burns the heart of anyone who hears it. Read Our Last Post: BREAKING: Enugu Family Of Six Hit By Tragedy As Father, Mother, Three Children Die After Meal
A man and his wife lived together in a three-bedroom flat with their two children. To help with the home, they had taken in a young girl as a house help, a teenager of about nineteen years, almost twenty. She had come to stay with them after they travelled to her village to beg her mother to release her into their care. Her mother had trusted them. She had believed that her daughter would live well, go to school, and be looked after. In her heart, she must have felt relief that her child would be safe in a home with people she trusted.
But what happened in that house would later break more than one heart.
One night, the man was preparing to travel for work. He had a one-week assignment in another state. As usual, before bed, he went to check on his children. It was then he noticed something strange. The young girl, their house help, was not well. She had a fever and looked weak. Surprised, he asked her what was wrong. She replied that she did not know, she just started feeling sick that evening.
The man went back to his wife and told her. His wife also confirmed the girl was not feeling well. Since he was travelling the next morning, he reached into his pocket, took out one hundred thousand naira, and gave it to his wife. He told her to use it and take the girl to the hospital. He even assured her that if more money was needed, he would send it from wherever he was. His wife nodded and agreed, saying there was no problem. With that, the man left for his journey.
For the whole week, he called home. He spoke with his wife. He asked about the family. He believed all was well. Nothing gave him a hint that things were going wrong. Then, after seven days, he returned.
As he entered his home, his children ran to him in excitement, jumping around, happy to see their father again. But one face was missing. The young girl did not come out. Puzzled, he asked where she was, and the children said she was inside.
He walked to her room and opened the door. The stench of vomit filled the air. The girl lay there, terribly weak. Her eyes looked empty, her body frail, her spirit almost gone. Shock gripped him. He bent down and asked her, “Have you gone to the hospital since that day?” With what little strength she had, she shook her head and whispered, “No.” His heart sank. He asked again, “Have you been taking any drugs, any medicine at all?” Once again, her answer was no.
Confused, angry, and broken, he left her room and went straight to his wife. “I gave you money to take this girl to the hospital,” he said. “Why did you not take her? Why did you leave her like this for a whole week?”
But his wife brushed it aside. She waved her hand and said, “Forget about that girl. She is just pretending. I did not want to waste money on her.”
Those words cut him like a knife. He could not believe what he had heard. Pretending? Wasting money? A child they had begged from her mother? A life depending on them?
Without waiting another moment, he carried the girl himself, put her in the car, and rushed her to the hospital. The doctors admitted her. He prayed silently in his heart that it was not too late. But by the next day, his phone rang. The voice on the other end broke him completely. The girl had died.
Now came the heaviest part of all. The news had to be taken back to the village. The mother of the girl had to be told. But what should he say? Should he tell her the whole truth — that he gave his wife money to care for her daughter, that his wife neglected her, that the neglect killed her? Should he bear the shame and anger that would surely follow, knowing the mother trusted them with her child’s life? Or should he soften it, telling her only that the girl fell sick, that they tried, but sadly, she passed away?
This is the burning question. What is better — truth or silence?
If he tells the truth, the mother will feel betrayed. She will know her child did not just die from sickness but from human wickedness and neglect. She will know that while her daughter cried in pain, someone in that house looked away. She may never forgive. It could break families, it could start battles.
But if he hides the truth, saying only that the girl fell sick and died despite treatment, then the weight of guilt will sit on his shoulders forever. He will know deep down that the mother never got the full story of how her daughter’s life ended. He will know the truth was buried with the girl.
This is not just a story about sickness and death. It is a story about responsibility, about conscience, about the promises we make and the trust we carry. A young girl lost her life, not only because of fever, but because of negligence. And now, one man must decide how much of that truth to reveal to a grieving mother.
The question remains: What would you do if it were you? Would you choose to protect your wife and your marriage by hiding the truth? Or would you honour the girl and her mother by speaking the painful truth, no matter what it costs?
Sometimes, silence can save relationships, but it kills justice. And sometimes, truth can break bonds, but it sets the conscience free.
