The uproar in the court room was immediately silenced as Judge Iheme made his way in, his face expressionless as usual. The Clerk immediately performed his duty and everyone was almost simultaneously on their feet, waiting for the Judge to settle down.

The days proceedings began shortly after, with the swearing in of the accused who was also the first witness on the plaintiff’s list. Mrs. Mornica Dogoyaro was sworn in and asked to enter the witness box. The marks on her face still very distinct and evident.

The deep bass voice of Judge Iheme filled the court room once more, drawing everyone’s attention away from the accused and back to himself. “Mrs Mornica, you have been accused of taking laws into your own hands by the single act of murdering your husband, Mr. Dogoyaro. Murder, I’m sure you know is a capital offense. How do you plead?” He asked, readjusting his glasses as though to get a better look at the accused in front of him.

“Not guilty your honor”, came the calm but terrified voice of Mrs Mornica. Even though she was innocent, she knew it was going to be a tough battle, if at all she stood a chance of wriggling out of this steaming escapade in one piece. She didn’t know much about the law, the lawyers and the proceedings of the court but she has always been a very observant person. The look on her Attorney’s face when he sighted the plaintiff’s Lawyer was enough to double the fear that had already filled a huge chunk of her system.

The incident came afresh in her memory. It had been one of those worrysome afternoons when her husband got angry over nothing. He had stormed into the house, screaming her name like she had caused him a tankful of fraustration. He had descended on her the moment he laid eyes on her. It wasn’t the first time neither was it the second. She was fast becoming his punching bag,a place where he let loose his anger, a place where he vented his fraustration.

Mornica had scurried off the moment the chance presented itself. She had run without looking back. She could remember hearing her husband’s footsteps for a short while as he chased after her. She had gone straight to her friend’s house to seek solace. Grace hasn’t only been a friend but had also become a sister. She has always been there for her like a sister would. Some persons in the past had in fact refused to accept the story of them not being related. The police had come to Grace’s house an hour after the incident to arrest Mornica for the murder of her husband.

With the marks and even the black eye from the beating still evident, how then could these people still acuse her of killing her husband?

She stood in the witness box, fighting so hard to hold back the tears. If anyone had told her that she would be tried for the death of an abusive and battering husband, she would have called the person a liar. She managed to tell the story, at least, the ones she remembered. Everyone in the court room pointed accusing fingers at her. They insist she was the last person seen in her husband’s premises prior to the incident.

Some witness, a young woman whom Monica could swear she had never seen in her life had testified, her testimony in synchrony with all that Mornica had been alleged of. The Judge adjourned the case with an advise that the defense counsel put in more work on the case as all they have done so far is hear say, with no concrete evidence to support his claims.

The days that lay between that first hearing and the next where not just tragic but traumatic for Mornica. She cried her eyes out, day in, day out.

The worst of her fears was confirmed when Judge Iheme, after taking the second and final hearing, having observed due process sentenced Mornica to life imprisonment according to section 33 of the Nigerian Constitution.

The arrival of the autopsy result Mornica’s Attorney had requested for but had been told that it wouldn’t be ready that day was all that was needed to turn the case around. The single most important evidence she needed to vindicate herself. It turned out her husband had died of ruptured coronary artery aneuyrism.

The flowers in the garden blossomed in synchrony with the fruits in the orchard as the cool weather graced its magical effect on them. It was that time of the year when Ella Thompson didn’t have to go through the stress of watering the flowers nor the tiring periods of checking on the orchard to ensure they don’t wither. Her daughter, Beverly was always helpful whenever she was around. She had grown so attached to her grandmother that she always preferred to spend time with her, especially her holidays.

As Ella walked across the garden, inhaling the sweet fragerance of the rose flower, the Memories of Beverly’s father flooded her mind. She could still remember how they met. It had been a very sunny afternoon and she had strolled up and down Beverly hills with no luck on locating the address she had. Tom, Beverly’s father had taken note of how she wandered and had offered her a helping hand.

They had gotten well acquinted and their relationship soon blossomed like they had known each other for years. Ella was then a beautiful young lady, smart and friendly. It was difficult for any man who came close enough to drift away. Now that she thought about it, it seemed the reason Tom didn’t want to let go even when he realized she was pregnant. He had categorically told her that he wanted nothing to do with the baby yet he wanted their relationship to never see its end. She had even named her daughter “Beverly” an inscription of the place they had met, on a bid to get Tom to change his mind and accept her, yet nothing!

Ella had been heartbroken and worse. She couldn’t describe the feeling that piled up in her chest especially when she discovered that Tom was married with children. She had taken it upon herself to pay the family a visit in pretence to be new in the neighborhood and in need of a job to at least feed from. She had been told that Tom’s wife was not just beautiful but kind, a report she had refused to believe until she met her. “Why would a person in his right mind want to cheat on a woman like this?” She found it difficult to believe.

She wept as the Memories flooded, her emotions getting heavier by the minute. The wail was like none she could remember. The pain came afresh like it was yesterday. “Why did Tom do this to me? I had tried to keep a straight path since I was a little girl…I don’t deserve this treatment” she cried in between each sentence. The pain in her chest tightened into a big knob making it difficult for her to continue crying.

As she lay at one side of the garden, she drifted into a deep thought. Its been five years since the incident with Tom. Five years of having to both deal with the pain and also fight off Tom. For some funny reason he had not let her rest. His inceasant calls had made Ella change her line. She had threathened to call the cops on him the last time he barged into her house-the only reason he had given her daughter and herself some moments of peace. She knew how much she loved him. Moreso was the fact that if she was ever going to get over him, she had to ensure that all ties between them were cut.

For five years she had wallowed in self pity, hung her head in public, felt like the end had come for her. For five years she had waved off every man that tried to come close. For five years she had avoided close relationships with anyone, burying herself deep in her little farm work. She was fast becoming that alone tree in the forest with no one to talk to. Maybe her recent choices drifted her daughter into the arms of her mother.

She took a deep breath, stood up from the ground and dusted her clothes. It was time to brace up. Time to soak herself once again in the glorious feel of the sun and let it rain its magical strength on her skin every morning-something she always looked forward to. It was time to pick up from where she left off. The thought alone made her feel so good that she smiled. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt that good. She couldn’t wait to bring Beverly home!

The evening looked quiet promising, things in place as usual and people strolling in and out of of Martin Hilder. Dila wasn’t surprised as that was the single reason she visited the eatery at all. Martin Hilder has managed to maintain the reputation of “best and most concise eatery in town”. Dila had lived in denial of that fact for as long as she could remember until a friend literarily bundled her to the eatery and forced her to have a taste of what she called “Martin Hilder’s finnest”. Dila had since fallen in love with Martin Hilder and had now made it her choice each time she saw the need to hang out. It was fast becoming her abode for Friday evenings.

As she sat down at her favorite spot this particular evening, she couldn’t help but notice the catchy and mouthwatering distinctive features of a young man. He was seated alongside another young man who seemed to be a friend. They talked in low tones or what appeared so as Dila could barely make out what they said from where she sat. She kept staring, oblivious of the fact that she had been found out.

The young man was dressed in a red T-shirt and what looked like a dark blue jean with the most marvelous sneakers Dila had ever seen. She wasn’t a fan of sneakers but this particular one caught her fancy. Maybe it had to do with its particular owner. Whenever he smiled, Dila fought so hard to swallow, a lump suddenly building up on her oesophagus. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen a man that handsome. She just couldn’t take her eyes off.

Her mind suddenly drifted to the last man she had seen, that handsome. His name is Peter. Maybe “was”. She wasn’t sure if he was still alive or dead but everything in her earnestly prayed for the later. Peter was the perfect definition of “her worst nighmare”. She still remembered the day she met him. It had been a very busy afternoon and she had had a terribly stressful day and her car had stopped in the middle of nowhere just when she was about going to get something to eat. She was hungry, tired and angry with little or no energy left for anything else.

She could remember waiting for a taxi, a little away from shedding tears when his car swift past. She had been so lost in thoughts that she didn’t notice when he reversed, alighted and was standing right beside her. She smiled as she recalled how he had helped out with everything from getting her something to eat to fixing her car. But the smile was short lived as the grueling pain from their parting scene soon took over and a tear made its way down her cheek.

“Are you okay?” came a voice from across her table, startling her. She almost jumped out of her seat when she sighted the particular young man from a few tables away. She took a quick glance at his table to be sure she wasn’t day dreaming but saw no one. “Even his friend is gone” she mumbled to her self.

“Excuse me” came the young man again. The confusion on his face was unmistakable and Dila wasn’t surprised. “He must think am weird” she said to herself, making sure he didn’t hear this one.

“I wasn’t talking to you” she said. Smiling, she readjusted herself on her seat. She was suddenly feeling hot. Worse was the part where she couldn’t make an eye contact with the young man. She had thought he was “hot” when he was 2km away, now that he is only 5cm away, she wasn’t sure what to say nor how to describe him. One thing was certain, he was very much more handsome than she had thought.

For the first time in as long as she could remember, she hung her head in the presence of a man. “Its pretty much normal, am sure he has this effect on all the female folks” she convinced herself. She didn’t like how he was making her feel but also didn’t want to make herself feel worse by narrowing it down to “his effect on me”. She hadn’t realized how much lost in thoughts again she had been until his voice came, again jolting her.

“Are you sure you are okay” the voice was now filled with concern. “You obviously have a lot on your mind. I know we just met but you can talk to me. I promise to listen and not judge” the voice was reassuring, this time and Dila was immediately thrown back to how nice, calm, understanding and patient Peter had been with her, of course until the dreaded incident. How was she sure she could trust this young man seated in front of her right now.

Its been allegedly five years since her ordeal of a relationship with her supposed heartthrob, Peter and she wasn’t sure she was ready to as much as confide in any man. Her unparalleled attraction to this man was a surprise to start with. For five years she had consciously lived, intentionally boycotting the male folks. She had no intentions of falling unto the edges with anymore guys. She was determined to spare herself anymore heartaches.

“Hey, my name is Kenneth. I’m a Civil Engineer working with Bills and Henders coperation. We have a contract in town. I live in Abuja but my family members reside in Lagos. I’m single…

“I don’t remember requesting for your portfolio” Dila snapped, irritated. You are rich, I get that, stop rubbing it on my face! She was looking at him straight in the eye for the first time since they met.

“Alright. Am sorry. I only thought a little familiarization will get you to trust me in the tinniest bit possible. I just want to help. You look so troubled and I couldn’t just ignore that. Like I said, am here to help. You can confide in me”. He spoke with so much sincerity that Dila felt sorry for venting her anger on him.

They began with ordering some food. They talked and talked until the restaurant owner came to remind then that it was close of work and she was ready to lock up. It was at that point that they noticed how deserted the eatery was. They were literarily the only ones left. Dila smiled as she got up from her seat. It had been a lovely evening.

For the first time in 5years, she wholistically discussed “the Peter incident”. After aborting Peters child as he instructed on a bid to salvage their relationship, she had suffered some complications that led to Ashermann’s syndrome, a condition that could adversely affect her ability to carry a child to viability and Peter had immediately taken to his heels saying he wanted nothing to do with a half baked good. Dila had been too broken to speak to anyone. As the memories flooded, she shook her head as they made their way out of Martin Hilder.