She loved him.
With her whole being.
He was broke. Struggling to make ends meet.
But she was there for him. Through thick and thin.
She worked hard. And supported him every step of the way, while encouraging him that everything will be okay.
But one day when she couldn't take it anymore, she left. Leaving behind a note that read she is tired.
Tired of waiting.
Tired of hoping.
Tired of being positive.
Her son asked of her everyday. And with each question, his father, a brokenhearted man answered,
"Your mother left us. She's gone. And she's never coming back".
And just when she left, things started becoming better for her husband.
But she was not patient.
Six months. One year. Two years.
She never came back.
And when all had started settling to normal, her son met what used to be his mummy's room ajar.
That room had not been opened in two years.
He walked in.
And there in the closet was his mother.
"Mummy!!!"
He screamed and ran to hug her.
But he halted half way.
What he saw scared him.
She was vomiting naira notes.
And with each sound he made, she vomited more currencies.
"Junior!!! Didn't I warn you never to enter this room?", his father barked at him from behind.
Looking stern. Eyes red like the devil.
He has never seen his Father in such rage before.
But he couldn't hold back his tears. And flowing with his tears came the words,
"Daddy, mummy loved and supported you. Why did you use mummy for money ritual?"