That evening, I returned to Amaka’s house and sat beside the window.
For the first time in months, I felt that I could breathe.
I had lost the marriage I thought I had.
But I was beginning to recover the woman I had been before fear and shame took over my life.
Then, one week later, I received a call from the doctor’s office.
They wanted me to return for a follow-up appointment.
My heart began pounding.
I wondered whether they had discovered something important in my medical records.
I wondered whether the appointment would finally answer questions that had haunted me for years.
I also wondered whether I was strong enough to hear whatever the doctor had to say.
The next morning, I arrived at the hospital early.
I sat in the waiting room with my hands clasped tightly together.
When the nurse called my name, I stood up and followed her into the consultation room.
