🦋 IMANI'S POV
Morning came, but it didn't feel like a new day.
It felt like a continuation of something that refused to end.
The room was too quiet.
Too still.
Even the air felt heavy… like it was sitting on my chest, refusing to let me breathe properly.
I stared at the ceiling, eyes dry, body stiff.
I didn't cry.
Not because I didn't want to…
But because something inside me had gone past tears.
My phone started ringing.
I didn't move.
It rang once.
Stopped.
Then again.
And again.
And again.
I already knew who it was.
Daniel.
Of course, it was Daniel.
The same Daniel who had sat in front of me two nights ago, holding my hands like they belonged to him…
telling me things that now felt like lies wrapped in softness.
The same Daniel who had looked me in the eyes and said:
"You know I can't leave my wife."
As if that was something I was supposed to understand.
As if that was something I was supposed to accept.
The phone kept ringing.
I turned my head slowly and looked at it.
His name filled the screen.
Daniel calling…
I watched it until it stopped.
Then it started again.
Persistent.
Like he had a right.
The memory came back before I could stop it.
That night.
His voice. Calm. Controlled. Careful.
"Imani, listen to me," he had said, leaning forward slightly.
"You're not thinking about this properly."
I had laughed.
Not because it was funny…
But because I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"I'm pregnant, Daniel."
"I know," he replied.
Just like that.
Like it was nothing.
Like it didn't shake his entire world.
"I've been thinking," he continued, rubbing his hands together slowly.
"There's a way we can handle this."
Something inside me started breaking.
"What way?"
He hesitated.
Just for a second.
Then
"Be my wife… I love you, baby. I'll take care of you. Let's build a family together. I'll cherish you, I promise."
As if I hadn't heard promises before.
As if promises were enough.
Even now, lying on my bed, those words echoed in my head like something unreal.
Second wife.
Like I was an option.
Like I was something to be arranged.
Like love could be divided neatly and handed out in portions.
"Imani, it's not as bad as you're thinking," he had continued that night.
"My family will understand. It's not uncommon. I'll take care of you. You won't lack anything."
I remember staring at him.
Really staring.
Trying to find the man I thought I loved…
in the person sitting in front of me.
I couldn't.
"What about her?" I asked quietly.
"So because she doesn't show it, it doesn't hurt? Just because she's not fighting you means it's okay?"
He didn't answer.
That silence…
told me everything.
"I love you," he said instead.
And somehow…
that made it worse.
My phone buzzed again, dragging me back.
I shut my eyes tightly.
As if that would block everything out.
It didn't.
My door creaked open.
"mani."
My older brother.
I didn't respond.
"I know you're awake," he said, stepping in.
His voice wasn't angry.
That was what scared me.
He walked closer, then stopped when he saw my face.
"Ah…"
Just that.
But it carried everything.
My second brother came in behind him.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"She's not okay," the first one said quietly.
Of course, I wasn't.
They didn't rush me.
Didn't force words out of me.
They just stayed.
One sat.
The other stood.
And for a long time…
Nobody spoke.
"Na because of that fool?" the younger one finally asked.
Silence.
"Imani…"
I shook my head slightly.
But they saw it.
My older brother sighed deeply.
"I warned you," he said.
No blame.
Just pain.
"I know," I whispered.
And that hurt more than shouting would have.
"What are you going to do?" he asked.
I hesitated.
Because saying it out loud would make it real.
But it was already real.
"He wants me to be his second wife."
The room went still.
"What?" my younger brother snapped.
"He what?!"
"That man has lost his mind!" he continued, pacing.
"Who does he think he is? Is she a backup plan?"
Every word hit.
Because that was exactly how it felt.
"Maybe," I said.
This time louder.
Clearer.
Everything changed.
The anger disappeared.
Replaced with something heavier.
Concern.
Fear.
"I don tire…" I whispered weakly.
"I don't even know what I'm doing again…"
My voice broke.
"I feel like everything is just… too much."
My older brother moved closer immediately.
"Hey… no, no. Don't say that," he said, his voice softer now.
"We're here. You're not alone, do you hear me?"
Mum came in shortly after.
And somehow…
the room steadied.
She looked at me once…
and understood everything.
She sat beside me quietly.
Close.
Safe.
"Talk to me," she said gently.
"Mummy…" my voice cracked.
"No words can describe how I feel… it's suffocating."
And then I cried.
Not small tears.
Not quiet ones.
I cried like something inside me had finally broken open.
She held me through it.
Didn't rush me.
Didn't silence me.
Just held me.
When I finally calmed down, she spoke.
"My daughter…"
"Life will test you in ways you never expect."
"What that boy is offering you is not love," she continued.
"It is convenience. For him."
"You deserve to be chosen fully," she said, holding my face.
"Not managed. Not shared. Not hidden."
"I don't even know who I am anymore," I admitted.
"I feel lost…"
She nodded slowly.
"That's because you gave a part of yourself to someone who didn't know how to carry it."
"But listen to me," she added firmly,
"You are not finished."
"You are still whole… even if you don't feel like it right now."
My brothers stayed.
My friend came later.
Held my hand.
"I dey your back," she whispered.
And for the first time…
I believed I wouldn't completely fall apart.
That night…
Daniel called again.
And this time…
I answered.
"Imani…" his voice rushed out.
"Thank God. Please,talk to me."
"I've thought about it," I said quietly.
"What you said… about being your second wife."
"Yes," he said quickly. "It's the best solution"
"It's not."
Silence.
"I'm not doing that," I said.
Firm.
Final.
"And the pregnancy…"
My voice slowed.
"I'm not keeping it."
"No," he said immediately.
"Don't do that. We can fix this"
"You can fix your life," I cut in.
"I'm fixing mine."
"You're being emotional"
I let out a small, broken laugh.
"Emotional?"
"The nerve of you."
"I'm being honest."
"I love you, Imani."
That pause again.
That dangerous pause.
"I know," I said softly.
"And that's why this hurts."
"But love is not enough."
"Not like this."
Silence.
Then
"So that's it?"
Tears slid down my face.
"Yes."
And when the call ended…
I didn't feel empty.
I felt broken.
But certain.
❤️‍🔥 ONE YEAR LATER
At 22…
I was still rebuilding.
Still learning how to exist without shrinking myself.
But I was better.
Not perfect.
But better.
The kitchen saved me.
Slowly.
Quietly.
I baked.
I cooked.
I created.
Flour on my hands.
Heat from the oven.
Something rising… instead of falling.
I started posting online.
Not for attention.
Just to remind myself that I still existed.
And slowly…
The world started noticing.
I smiled more.
Laughed more.
Lived… a little more.
I wasn't there yet.
But I was on my way.
"I want to embrace life," I whispered to myself one evening, staring at my latest creation.
"And everything that comes with it."
Nothing missing.
Nothing broken.
Just…
becoming.
***********
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