(PART 2)- How A 24-Year-Old Man Fulfilled An 85-Year-Old Virgin Woman’s Last Wish

Funk gasped, the word ruin hitting her chest like a blow she could not dodge. She pressed a hand to her heart, her breath shallow, trembling. “I–I did not mean harm,” she whispered. “I only wanted… companionship. Someone to talk to. Someone who does not look at me like a ghost.”

But Isei was unmoved. Years of hardship had sharpened her, carved steel into her tongue. “Companionship?” she spat. “Is companionship what you whispered to him? Is companionship what the village is shouting about now? Woman, you think because you are old you can say anything, do anything, and we must all clap for you?”

Sei stepped between them. “Mother, enough.”

Isei’s head snapped toward him. “Enough? You dare tell me enough? Have you forgotten who fed you? Who carried you on her back when you were sick? Who sold her wrappers in the market so you could learn a trade in Lagos? And now—now—you stand here shielding a woman old enough to be your grandmother?”

Sei clenched his fists, fighting the rising heat in his chest. “Mama Funk is not what you think—”

“Oh, she is exactly what I think,” Isei thundered. “A lonely old woman desperate for the touch of a young man. And you—my own son—have allowed her to trap you in her shame!”

“No,” Sei snapped, his voice trembling with rage. “She didn’t trap me. She told me her truth. She trusted me. And all she wanted was—”

He stopped himself, breath catching mid-sentence.

Because how could he say it aloud?
How could he tell his mother, the villagers behind her, the whole village that an 85-year-old virgin had asked him, a 24-year-old man, to give her a form of love she had never known?

The truth sat in his throat like fire.

Isei saw the hesitation—and misread it completely.

Her face contorted with horror. “Ah! So it is true,” she cried. “She HAS bewitched you!”

Gasps erupted. Someone screamed, “You see? I said it! The boy can no longer speak sense!”

Funk’s hands shot up in protest. “No! I have no such power! Ask anyone! My whole life has been poverty and hard labor. I have never touched charms or spirits.”

But the crowd, once stirred, was not a river that could be calmed again.

Isei grabbed her son’s arm, nails digging in. “We are leaving. Today. Before this curse destroys you.”

Sei shook his head slowly. “Mama… release me.”

“I will not!”

“Release me!” he said louder—this time forcing her hand off his wrist.

The villagers gasped. A son raising his voice to his mother was nearly an abomination itself.

Isei stared at her hand as if it had betrayed her. Tears filled her eyes—not of sadness, but of humiliation. “You push me away… for this woman?” she whispered.

Sei’s heart cracked. He reached out, trying to soften his voice. “Mama, please. Listen.”

“No,” she said, stepping back as if from a wild animal. “I have heard enough.”

The village head’s voice cut through the charged air. “This must end now.”

He looked at Funk—old, frail, still kneeling on the ground like a rejected offering—and something in his face softened, though not enough to bend tradition.

“Mama Funk,” he said slowly. “You are a woman of age. But age does not erase shame. From today, the boy must stay away. For his sake. For yours. For the village.”

Funk’s tears dripped into the dust.

Sei dropped to his knees beside her.

“Baba, please,” he whispered, voice breaking. “I cannot abandon her.”

“You must,” Bale said. “This is our law.”

Sei looked at Funk. Her fingers reached for his wrist, barely touching him—as if afraid her touch alone would destroy him. Her voice was a trembling thread.

“My son… if leaving me will save you from their mockery… then go.”

“No,” he whispered fiercely. “I stay.”

But Funk shook her head. “You are young. I am at the end. Do not waste your life defending a dying woman.”

Sei’s throat tightened. “I promised I wouldn’t abandon you.”

Her eyes filled with a sorrow deeper than the earth. “Then let me be the one to release you.”

Silence.

Not even a chicken clucked.

Sei’s breath wavered. His mother’s stare burned his skin. The village watched, waiting to see whether he would choose tradition or a lonely old woman whose only crime was longing.

Slowly, painfully, Funk removed her hand from his wrist.

“Go home, Sei,” she whispered. “I will survive. I always have.”

But her voice broke on the last word.

Sei felt something inside him tear.

He rose to his feet.

He looked at Bale.

At the villagers.

At his mother.

Then at Funk—still kneeling, still trembling, still alone.

Finally, he spoke in a voice that carried far beyond the compound:

“If this village thinks caring for an old woman is shameful… then this village has forgotten its humanity.”

The air quivered.

The villagers shifted uncomfortably.

But the law had spoken.
The decree stood.

And Isei wasted no time grabbing his arm again.
This time, Sei did not resist.

He just kept looking back—at the woman who had waited 85 years to be held, and who now watched the only person who had ever seen her slip away under the weight of gossip.

Funk did not cry out again.
She simply lowered her head…
and let the world walk away.