EPILOGUE
I s t a r e d a t my reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing the woman looking back at me. Not because I didn’t look like myself because I did. I was still Yavanni. Still the girl with deep roots, deep feelings, and an even deeper purpose. But today… I glowed differently.
My locs were swept into an elegant updo, a gold threaded scarf woven through the crown like a halo. My earrings were bold and thick, gold, carved with the Adinkra symbol for endurance. My dress was a custom off-the-shoulder ivory silk with hand-sewn Ankara details cascading down one side, trailing like a story.
I pressed a hand to my chest and let the moment land. This was really happening. I was about to marry Ezra and I was doing it as someone who had been stretched, broken, rebuilt, and reborn into this moment.
The last six months moved fast. A blur of change and growth. Motherhood had cracked something open inside of me I didn’t know existed. I’d stared at Elijah’s tiny fingers in the middle of sleepless nights and felt a love that made my bones ache. I’d nursed through exhaustion, rocked him through fevers, laughed with him belly-to-belly on our living room rug, and cried over the smallness and bigness of it all.
And Ezra? He was all in. Late nights and early mornings, diaper changes, and doctor visits. He’d hold Elijah on his chest and recite poems until he fell asleep. Sometimes, Ezra would sneak him into the hospital parking lot during a long shift, just so I could kiss his forehead. Then, one night in the parking lot, he dropped down on one knee and officially proposed with the most beautiful pear shaped diamond ring.
He said, “Let’s build forever, Yaya.”
I moved to New York a month later and accepted an offer from a renowned hospital that had been pursuing me since I graduated. The job was demanding but meaningful and Ezra’s world of performances and touring moved in rhythm with my schedule. It wasn’t perfect, though.
Some days, we passed each other like ships in the night. Some mornings, our only words were “I got the bottle” or “Mom’s picking him up at noon.” But there was always love. Always laughter. Always a reason to slow down and find each other again. Our life was beautiful chaos and it was ours.
I took one last look in the mirror and exhaled, full of nerves and gratitude. Then, a knock came at the door and interrupted my thoughts.
“Can we come in? We brought tissue.” Dianna’s voice came, slightly high-pitched with emotion.
I laughed, wiping under my eyes as I turned toward the door. “Yeah. Come oi.”
The door opened and she walked in with Erin. Both of them were already glossy-eyed, dressed in matching bronze silk, each holding a bouquet and an emotional mess on their faces.
“Girl, you look like a damn goddess,” Erin said, fanning her eyes.
Dianna sniffled. “I’m not gonna make it. I told myself I wouldn’t cry until the vows but damn, sis, look at you.”
I smiled so hard it hurt. “Y’all are ridiculous.”
They surrounded me, fussing over my dress, fixing the edge of my scarf and hugging me like I was about to float away. We laughed, cried a little, hugged some more. Then another knock came and we all turned.
“Yavanni,” my father’s voice said softly from the other side. “It’s time.” The girls stepped back. I took one more breath, smoothing my hands down my hips, and opened the door. My father stood in a tailored cream suit, his salt-and-pepper beard freshly trimmed, eyes glassy behind his glasses. He stared at me for a long moment, then took my hand. “You’re… wow,” he said quietly.
“Daddy…”
He squeezed my hand. “You ready?”
As Dianna and Erin left to take their places, I exhaled and nodded. “I am.”
As A Couple of Forevers by Chrisette Michelle played, my father and I stepped into the courtyard where the ceremony was being held and everything slowed. We kept the wedding small and intimate. Just our families, closest friends, and the Hollis skyline behind us. The sun was low, casting a soft, golden hue across everything. And there, at the end of the aisle with my girls standing beside him and Mekai on the other side, stood Ezra.
He wore a tailored black suit, open at the collar, his chains tucked beneath. His locs were freshly twisted up into a bun and his posture displayed cool, calm and collected. He looked so damn fine but it was his eye that caused more butterflies within me. His good eye was locked on me like he was seeing a miracle. It was so intense and vulnerable, full of emotion he didn’t need to speak as he quickly wiped a tear that fell.
Halfway down the aisle, I felt my steps slow. My hands were trembling. Then my dad leaned in and whispered, “You didn’t just find a man who loves you. You found a man who sees you. I get that now and I’m proud of you. Go get your forever.”
And just like that, I knew that every step and every detour had led me to this moment. When we reached the altar, my father placed my hand in Ezra’s and stepped back. Ezra squeezed gently, his thumb tracing my knuckles.
“You aight?” he whispered.
I nodded, tears already blurring my vision. “I’ve never been more okay.” The officiant began, but I barely heard her. My heart was too full. Then it was time for vows and Ezra went first.
“I met you on a night I thought I was just gonna perform and leave,” he said, voice thick. “You changed the rhythm of my whole life. And now, standin’ here, I promise to keep showin’ up even when it’s hard. Even when I’m tired. I’ll keep choosin’ you, Yaya. Choosin' us. Always and forever, baby.”
I could barely breathe as I took a shaky step forward. Exhaling, I spoke my truth. “You came back when I thought love had abandoned me. You didn’t just see me, babe, you held me even when I didn’t know how to hold myself. I know this love is forever. I’ve always felt it deep in my soul and I promise to love you with patience, with fire, and with softness. I promise to speak your name like it’s poetry because it is, Ezra.” Soon, we were pronounced as husband and wife and kissed with the kind of love that lives forever.
Afterward, we had a small reception that was lit with lights strung across the courtyard and a DJ who spun a mix of old school soul and R&B. The food was bomb. Laughter bubbled around us like champagne. At one point, my mother held Elijah in her arms while swaying gently to Sweet Thing. Our baby wore the cutest custom suit, dozing against his grandma’s shoulder. Then the DJ called for the couple’s first dance.
Ezra pulled me into his arms, one hand on my back, the other gently holding my waist. We swayed slowly to Dontchange and Musiq Soulchild’s voice wrapped around us like a slow love spell. His lips brushed my ear. “You are fuckin’ amazin’, you know that?”
I smiled and leaned into him with eyes closed, overwhelmed. “We really did it, huh?”
“We’re still doin’ it, baby,” he said. “Still writin’ our story. We ain’t done yet.”
I looked up into his eyes, into the home I’d found inside of him, and felt my chest ache with so much love it was almost unbearable. He was right, though. This wasn’t the end of our story.
And as long as I had Ezra in my world, I knew that the next chapters would be nothing but poetry. Beautiful. Sometimes raw and all over the place but beautiful nonetheless.