TRIGGER WARNING: MILD ABUSE.
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I was like a secret agent tasked with the most important mission of a lifetime.
Standing as still and as quietly as possible, I made sure my eyes registered the light laugh my primary school secretary, Miss Kemi, let out in the direction of my father.
I also didn't miss the way her hand rested on his arm, her fingers drumming a silent tune. Despite being six years old at the time, I somehow knew that Miss Kemi shouldn't be touching my dad the way my mom touches him.
I was enlisted by my mom to spy on my dad. What he was doing, who he was talking to in my school; I was expected to relay everything to her every time I come home from school.
Back then, the thought of being a child spy filled me with the most excitement I had ever felt in all my six short years of living.
