A date was fixed for the funeral. Kwame struggled to accept the devastating reality. His wife, his rock, his guiding light, was gone. Overwhelmed by anguish, he locked himself in his room, surrendering to unrelenting grief.
Tears cascaded down his face day and night, soaking his pillows. His once robust frame now grew lean, a testament to his shattered soul. The family, deeply concerned, initially gave him space, recognizing his unbearable pain. As days passed, worry intensified. Kwame's isolation alarmed them; he refused food and water. His brother-in-law, Gem, decided to intervene. Gem approached Kwame's room cautiously, knocking gently. "Kwame?" No response. Assuming he wasn't ready to talk, Gem turned to leave but was halted by a faint, heart-wrenching moan.
Alarmed, Gem rushed back, pushing open the door. The sight froze his blood. Kwame stood on a table, a rope tied around his neck, the other end secured to the ceiling fan.
"Dear God!" Gem exclaimed, horror-stricken. "Kwame, no! Don't do this! You're not alone." Gem's desperate cries summoned the household. Paralyzed by fear, they kept their distance, heeding Kwame's threat: "Come closer, and I'll end it."
Gem pleaded, "Kwame, think of your children, your family, your friends. We need you." But Kwame's determination didn't waver. Just as despair seemed insurmountable, Gal, Kwame's loyal friend, appeared. Defying Kwame's warnings, Gal stepped forward, his voice calm and soothing.