It happened one rainy night, when the thunder echoed the storm raging inside me. I was vulnerable, and he was there. It was a mistake, a moment of weakness that I can never take back. But out of that mistake came something I never thought I’d have—a child. I am pregnant, carrying Chike’s baby, a life growing inside me that is both a miracle and a curse.
I don’t know how to feel. This child is everything I’ve ever wanted, but it’s also a reminder of my betrayal, of the love I’ve lost, and the life I’ve destroyed. Emeka will never forgive me. His family will never accept me. And Chike—sweet, kind Chike—looks at me with a mixture of guilt and hope, as if this child could somehow fix what’s been broken. But it can’t. Nothing can.
I sit here now, my hands resting on my growing belly, feeling the tiny flutters of life within me. This child is my redemption and my ruin. I love them already, more than I thought possible, but I also fear for them. What kind of life will they have, born into this mess? What kind of mother will I be, carrying the weight of my mistakes on my shoulders?
I don’t have the answers. All I know is that this child is my everything now. They are the light in my darkness, the hope in my despair. But they are also the end of the life I once knew. Emeka will return one day, and when he does, everything will come crashing down. I will lose him forever, and I will have to face the consequences of my actions. But for now, I hold onto this tiny life inside me, praying that somehow, someway, we’ll find a way to survive.
Because at this point, everything is about to end—or has already ended. And yet, in the midst of the wreckage, there is this: a heartbeat, a promise, a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, love can still grow in the ruins.
