Post by Being Ready And Stable (BRAS) (@brashub)
NNEKA'S DIARY XXXIV
The next morning, I woke up in Kunle's arms.
The sun was streaming through the curtains. My hair was a mess. My makeup was gone. My feet still hurt.
And I had never been happier.
"Good morning, Mrs. Kunle," he whispered.
"Good morning, Mr. Kunle."
Mary was at the door at 8 a.m. sharp.
"Mummy! Daddy! Can we have pancakes?"
We both laughed.
And just like that, our life together began.
Kunle made good on his promise — he stood at the stove, flipping pancakes like a man who had done it a thousand times. Mary sat at the tiny kitchen table, swinging her legs and chattering about school, her friends, and the new dress she wanted to wear to church.
I watched them both — this man who had become my home, and this girl who had become my daughter.
"Thank you," I said quietly, more to myself than to anyone.
Kunle turned. "For what?"
"For this," I said, gesturing at the small kitchen, the sizzling pan, the little girl who called me Mummy. "For all of it."
He smiled. "Thank you for saying yes."
Mary looked up. "Mummy, will you always be here?"
My heart clenched.
"Always, my baby," I said. "I'm not going anywhere."
She smiled and returned to her pancakes, satisfied.
After breakfast, Kunle and I stepped onto the terrace with our coffee. The morning air was cool and quiet.
"So," he said, leaning against the railing. "How does it feel to be a wife?"
I laughed. "Different. But good. Like I've been wearing the wrong shoes my whole life and I finally found the right pair."
He grinned. "I love that."
I looked out at the street below — the early morning cars, the sounds of a city waking up.
"I was so afraid of this," I admitted. "I convinced myself that love wasn't for me. That marriage was a trap."
"And now?"
I turned to him. "Now I realize that love wasn't the trap. Fear was."
He reached for my hand. "We're going to be okay, Nneka. Not because life will be perfect, but because we'll face it together."
I squeezed his hand.
"Together," I repeated.
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Mary is anxious and desperately seeks reassurance from her stepmother. A poignant moment of bittersweet vulnerability arising from the trauma of past loss.🥹