Our mother had committed suicide on Valentine’s Day eight years before, leaving behind a note which informed us about her breast cancer.

“I can’t deal with it. Can’t cope with the pain. I haven’t been as strong as I used to be since your father left.” She had written.

The bottle of poison which laid on the rug beside her bed gave the cause of her death. No autopsy had been done. Valentine’s Day between her and dad used to be so lovely. Once upon a time, I used to look up to them but now I couldn’t even stand Valentine’s Day.

The day she died I had refused to come out of my room. I felt numb and tired. Mother never had our time. Always after the money and so we went from one boarding school to relatives houses. One time we had been shared amidst our aunts because mother had to go to Dubai for business.

So I am single and every guy that has tried to approach me got a flat no, even the ones I liked. There was this particular chap who I had met at a client’s event, Francis he said his name was.

“Give me a chance.” He had begged over and over again.

“Love is dead to me.” I had replied.

What attracts men to me you might wonder? Intelligence basically and humility. There are several guys that turned me off just because they were boastful about money they had. I have my money too!

When I turned up at the company that Tuesday, I had to commend the good job Dipo was doing. The building looked magnificent. It did when it was mother’s company but now it had modern features.

“Dipo the slayer!” I hailed him as I entered his office with the tag “managing director” on the door.

He chuckled lightly and opened his arms for our signature bear hug.

“Why are you here?” He asked.

“So I can’t come by to say hello to my brother?”

He raised his hands in defence.

“I didn’t say so.”

I cleared my throat and told him the news quietly.

“I was at the hospital last week and the doctor told me I might have cancer.”

His face remained expressionless.

“I might have cancer like mother.” I continued.

“Mother did not have cancer.” He said.

“What do you mean Dipo?”

“She committed suicide because she had cancer, didn’t she?” I queried.

He stood up, walked to the open door and locked it. Then he dragged a chair beside mine and sat in front of me.

“Jola, I have tried all I can to keep the family together after mother’s death. Even though I was just 21 then. Surely you can see how well the company is doing.”

“I know. But you’re diverting from the question I asked.”

“I’m sure you remember growing up and knowing your father left because your mother was never around to take care of the home. How did it feel it sister? Knowing your father would rather be with an uneducated girl than your award winning mother? Pitiful right? How did it feel like being in boarding school for over 6 years of your life in which you saw your mother just twice a year?”

“She wasn’t a perfect woman yes but she was just trying to give us a better future.”

“That I tried to convince myself. Telling myself she was doing it out of love. But she was thirsty for power wasn’t she? Power over her own children.” He yelled.

“Calm down Dipo.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! I was raped! I was raped by my own Aunt and you’re telling me to calm down? I was raped and I couldn’t even tell my own mother because she wasn’t there to listen. I was bullied in junior class and yet I couldn’t tell my own mother. Of what essence is her existence then? I asked myself. All she wanted was the money and power and she had it all. I asked myself what use is her being alive.”

I gasped in disbelief as the statement registered in my head.

“D…Dipo, you mean to tell.. to tell me..” I stammered.

“Yes sister. Yes, I killed her. Yes, I poisoned her wine. Yes, I wrote that suicide note.”

“Oh my God! I can’t believe this. I have a murderer for a brother.”

He reached out and grabbed my shoulders.

“I am not a murderer. The real murderer is that woman who birthed us.”

I stood up and went to the window, I needed the fresh air.

“She always said all she was doing was for us right? She loved us and wanted us to be happy. Well look at us today, I’m the managing director of her company and your newspaper and clothing line are the talk of the town.”

He stood up, walked towards me and placed a hand on my shoulder.

“You might see me as a bad person sister but I did what had to be done. For us. And I’m sorry you might have cancer. Surely it’s in its early stage and can be cured?”

Speechless, I carried my bag and walked out of his office.

As I stepped into the street, I looked at the sky and breathed in the Lagos air. I knew what I just heard would never be told to another person. It had become a secret. Our secret.

“Hello?”

“Baby! Are we still meeting up for lunch?” Francis quipped.

“Of course.” I said as I toyed with the engagement ring on my finger.

“By 2pm then?”

“Yes. By the way I got the flowers. I love them. Happy valentine love.”

“Happy valentine Jola.”

One look at the calendar on my desk and February 14 stared back at me. Mum’s death anniversary. But the past had been laid to rest and the love of Valentine promised a new beginning.