The Night I Discovered Why My Father Never Spoke About His Family

Growing up, I always knew my mother’s side of the family. We visited them during holidays, attended weddings, and shared happy memories together. But when it came to my father’s family, there was always a strange silence.

Every time I asked him about them, his face would change. He would become serious and cold.

“Don’t ever ask me about those people,” he would say.

That only made me more curious.Why would someone completely cut off their own family? What could they have done that was so bad?

As I got older, the questions kept growing inside me. I needed answers. So one day, without telling anyone, I secretly started searching for my father’s relatives.

After weeks of asking around and looking on social media, I finally found someone , my cousin.

She sounded excited when she learned who I was.  She said she will introduce me to our grandmother.”

My heart was racing. Finally, I was going to meet the grandmother I had been dreaming about my whole life.

But I knew my parents would never allow it.So I lied.

I told them I was going to a friend’s house for a sleepover.

Instead, I travelled to meet my father’s family.

When I arrived, they welcomed me with open arms. My grandmother hugged me tightly as if she had been waiting for that moment for years.

“My grandchild… you finally came,” she said with tears in her eyes.

Everyone in the house seemed happy to see me. They cooked food, laughed, and asked many questions about my life.

For a moment, I thought my father had been wrong about them.

That night, I went to sleep in one of the rooms in the house.

Everything felt normal.

But in the middle of the night, something strange happened.

I suddenly felt something touching my face.

It was soft… but very real.

Half asleep, I brushed my face with my hand and thought maybe it was just part of a dream. The room was dark and quiet, so I forced myself to sleep again.

In the  morning  I woke up feeling extremely tired.

My whole body was painful, like I had been running all night or fighting someone in my sleep. My muscles were sore and my head was heavy.

As I slowly walked outside, still confused about what I had felt during the night, I heard two neighbours talking near the gate.

One of them said something that made my blood run cold.

“Hai… pitsana e ya shiana bosigo.”

Roughly translated, it meant:

“Yoh… that child works at night.”

Or in village talk… that child turns into something at night.

My heart started pounding.

At that moment, I suddenly remembered my father’s warning.

“Don’t ever ask me about those people.”

And for the first time in my life…

I wondered if I had just discovered the reason why my father did want to be part of their lifes.