Epilogue #2
Silence swallowed the air.
“You didn’t have to do this, Naji… not after everything,” my mom said, redirecting the conversation.
My dad cleared his throat, voice tight with emotion.
“You gave us more grace than we ever gave you. I’m not sure we can repay that.”
He stood rigid, the weight of regret heavy on his shoulders, his hands clasped nervously in front of him.
My mom looked me up and down, her gaze lingering on my rounded belly, tears barely held back.
“But look at you… you’re glowing,” she whispered, a hint of awe threading through her voice. “Carrying life suits you.”
She reached out as though to touch my belly, but hesitated.
I didn’t know how to respond to that… so I didn’t. I just nodded.
My dad tried again, his tone soft but laced with nostalgia.
“It’s true. You’ve always been beautiful, Naji. But this is… this is different. There’s a peace in your face now that—” He paused, swallowing hard as if he was grappling with the very words he struggled to articulate. “That I know we didn’t always help you find.”
My heart clenched at the reminder of our complicated past. I didn’t want to talk about the pregnancy. I didn’t want compliments. I wanted the truth, raw and unfiltered.
Putting on a brave face, I looked at both of them, prepared to finally speak on the past.
“Y’all p–practically gave me up when I was four… four years old. Said I was going to N-Nana Li’s for medicine, then left the country... for years.” My head jerked violently, shoulders twitching as the pressure boiled over.
“Bury me with the secrets in the backyard!” I shouted, the words ripping free, wild and unfiltered.
The outburst startled me, but I couldn’t stop. My chest heaved, my throat burned, and I forced myself to keep going because after all these years, silence wasn’t an option anymore.
My dad’s eyes widened, a flicker of denial and guilt crossing his features. “You needed care. We couldn’t?—”
“C-Couldn’t what?!” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. “Handle the embarrassment? Couldn’t s-stomach the whispers about the child with tics? With Tourette’s?”
My voice cracked, but I pressed on, fueled by years of pent-up frustration.
“Y-You didn’t want me to ruin your status in the village,” I kept ranting.
“That’s what it was, right?! S-So instead of loving me through it, you sent me away like…
like I was a problem to f-fix. I drew in a shaky breath, my eyes burning.
“L-Love isn’t proven when it’s easy to give; it’s proven when it’s hardest to hold on…
and you dropped me the moment I got heavy! ”
My body tensed as another tic hit before the words flew out uncontrollably.
“Banished like bad luck in a baby dress!”
I took a breath, closing my eyes for a moment to steady myself as another tic flickered at my brow.
I calmed myself the way I always had to—with my own breath, my own hands and my own damn resilience. When I opened my eyes, I found my mom covering her mouth, silent tears spilling over her fingers, each drop a testament to her remorse.
I looked straight at them, voice unwavering.
“ I do not need people who didn’t want me, ” I stated bluntly. “B-But I deserved the truth. Y’all told Amaka the truth when she started asking questions… but you never told me. I never got that apology. Or… a reason good enough to explain why I had to be the sacrifice while she got to stay.”
My dad expression shifted to one of utter devastation.
“We were ashamed,” he finally admitted, stepping closer, desperation in his eyes. “We told ourselves we were protecting you. But we weren’t. We were protecting us… from judgment… from guilt… from the truth. And we were wrong.”
My mom looked down at her trembling hands, then back at me, her voice barely above a whisper.
“We weren’t there like we should’ve been, Naji… not emotionally… not in the ways that mattered. And that’s something we’ll regret for the rest of our lives.”
With a shaky breath, she reached for my hand slowly, as if testing the waters, unsure if I would pull away in anger.
Even with tears blurring my vision—some old, some new—I let her take it, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. Then my dad stepped in too, his arms wrapping around both of us tightly. We stood under the sheltering branches of the tree, trembling and crying—wrapped in a hug long overdue.
“We’re so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry!” my mom whimpered, her voice cracking under the weight of it all. “Please forgive us! I know we can’t change the past, but we want to be there for you… moving forward.”
Her hands trembled in mine, a fragile connection, full of unspoken words and hope.
I glanced down, my free hand resting gently on my belly, consciously connecting with the life within me.
“I…” I hesitated for a moment, feeling the gravity of what I was about to say. “I forgive y’all.”
It came out quieter than I expected, but it felt real—a release of the burden I had carried for so long.
For the first time, I saw them as people, not just ghosts from a past I never processed, but ones I finally had the strength to face… and forgive.
As I pulled back from the hug, I felt it—a sudden, warm rush between my legs.
I froze.
Everyone else kept breathing normally, but my body knew.
My eyes darted down, then back up to my parents, wide and frantic.
“Oh, no—no, no, no!” I screamed, my voice pitching higher with each word.
Imanio and Chiamaka came flying around the corner of the house like they’d heard gunshots.
“What happened?!” Imanio barked, his voice sharp, eyes darting over me from head to toe. His whole face twisted into immediate panic as I doubled over.
“I think…” I took a deep breath, clutching my belly with both hands. “…I think it’s time.”
“Fuck!” he cursed, running a hand down his face before throwing his arms up. “I told you this could’ve waited!”
Even through the tightening pain, my mind snapped back at him.
Yes, you did. You warned me. You told me we shouldn’t have flown to Mississippi this late in the pregnancy, even if we took the jet and planned to head right back. But I wanted that handled before the baby arrived.
Imanio made a low grunt while approaching, like he wanted to further argue but didn’t have the luxury.
Then, mad and all, he swept me up effortlessly, like I weighed nothing more than a feather.
My arms looped around his neck as a contraction ripped through me, and I pressed my face into his shoulder.
“Naji, I swear you’re gonna give me gray hair before this kid even says ‘daddy,’” Imanio muttered, his grip tightening as he carried me out.
“I’m s–sorry.”
A sudden spasm shot through me, my head snapping back and my chest seizing, and the phrase exploded out before I could catch it.
“Pain married me first!”
The outburst left my throat raw. I sucked in a shaky breath, pressing my face against his neck. “I love you.”
Imanio’s eyes softened even in the chaos, his jaw unclenching as he pressed a kiss to my temple. “I love you too, baby.”
Under all that fuss, I felt it—the fear, the love, the urgency.
“Everybody in the car!” he ordered, his voice commanding. “And somebody find the nearest hospital! Now!”
“On it!” Chiamaka called out, jogging behind us, her voice laced with desperation. “But what about the jet? Can’t we just take that? Maybe she’ll make it back home in time!”
“Nah, lil’ sis… can’t risk it,” Imanio snapped, urgency punctuating his words. “And I damn sure ain’t about to have a baby in the sky. Too much of my business already be in the news.”
As he carried me, my body jolted with a sharp contraction—my arm flicked outward and my voice erupted without warning, frantic and wild.
“Push who? Push where? Not in my Sunday sandals!”
I glanced down at my feet—there they were, the sparkly sandals adorned with rhinestones that I had chosen for their charm, completely unsuitable for what was about to go down.
The beads of sweat rolled down my brow, and now I was laboring like a woman on a mission with no supplies to aid me.
“Babe,” I panted, clinging desperately to Imanio’s shoulder as another wave of pressure rolled through me. “Is it too early?! We don’t have our bags! And… I’ve got on white panties!” I murmured, rambling, a mixture of embarrassment and panic flooding my thoughts.
Imanio chuckled softly under his breath.
“That’s cool, baby; we’ll sacrifice the panties for the greater good,” he replied, shooting me a quick, reassuring glance as he yanked open the back door. “Besides, they were cute, but they’re not built for war.”
I groaned, both from the spike of pain that coursed through me and from his lighthearted teasing when the situation felt so dire.
Imanio reached into the trunk and grabbed a clean towel with the urgency of someone who had been preparing for a mobile birth situation his entire life. He laid it down carefully and eased me into the backseat, ensuring I was as comfortable as possible given the circumstances.
My mom jumped into the passenger side, her presence providing a sense of relief. My dad and Chiamaka piled into the back with me, their legs forming a makeshift mattress that I could stretch across, trying to breathe fast and loud in a futile attempt to manage the mounting pressure.
“Y’all better pray I don’t deliver in this d-damn car!” I warned, the anxiety laced with a hint of humor breaking through the tension.
Another tic snapped out of me, this one high-pitched and panicked.
“The devil is dilated! I rebuke this contraction in the name of ginger ale!”
My mom reached back and rubbed my belly, her touch meant to soothe, while Chiamaka kept yelling words of encouragement.
“Breathe, sis!”
Then there was my dad, who was clutching the seat, his eyes wide as if it were the only thing keeping him from passing out.
Imanio was behind the wheel. His focus was locked on the road ahead with an intensity that suggested he felt it had personally disrespected his wife.