Months later, I was visiting Amaka when her youngest child climbed onto my lap and wrapped his arms around my neck.
“Aunty Ella, will you come again tomorrow?”
I smiled.
“Of course, sweetheart.”
He kissed my cheek and ran back to his toys.
I watched him play, feeling a quiet warmth in my heart.
I still wanted to become a mother.
That desire had not disappeared.
But I no longer believed that my life would be meaningless if I never gave birth.
I had learned that family could take many forms, that love should never require humiliation, and that a woman’s worth could not be measured by the number of children she carried.
I had also learned that sometimes the hardest decision is not leaving the person who hurt you.
It is leaving behind the version of yourself who believes she must endure anything to be loved.
As for Nonye, I heard that she was learning to raise her son while dealing with the reality of Kelly’s financial difficulties. I wished her well from a distance, but I did not return to the friendship or rivalry that had once connected us.
