MasukMy legs began to ache, the low heels I wore biting into my swollen feet. I sighed and made my way slowly toward my room to change into flats, and relieve myself while at it.Pregnancy had taught me just how long the bladder could hold on, hours, sometimes. I’d trained myself out of running to the bathroom every five minutes, testing my limits just to feel some control over this body that no longer felt like mine.But tonight wasn’t one of those nights.I was wearing one of the dresses he’d gotten me during my pregnancy journey. It was easy to feel insecure these days, the heaviness, the constant changes, the way nothing fit quite right anymore. I often felt clumsy, foolish in my own body. But he made sure I still felt beautiful, still had something lovely to wear.The memory of that day — the day I’d tried the dresses on and thrown a fit, came flooding back. The calm in his eyes as he watched me, the way he called me beautiful despite my tantrums. My heart fluttered at the thought, my
MARIA“This was the best three months of my life, child… thank you,” my mother said as she tossed the last of our bags into the car.“You wouldn’t even let me do anything, Mom. Not even feed myself. I’m the one who had the best three months of her life,” I teased, pulling her into a hug.She laughed, kissed my forehead, and held me tight. I was going to miss her. In these few months, we had bonded more deeply than in all the years I’d lived under her roof.Isaac joined the moment, running over as his aunt Ann chased after him.“Mummy, look! Aty Ann bite me,” he grinned, showing me his wrist, perfectly fine, of course.I bent as far as I could, blowing a gentle puff of air over his skin. “Sorry, my baby. Pardon Aunty Ann.”After final goodbyes to my parents, we were on our way. Ann insisted on driving since I couldn’t fly in my condition.Isaac was strapped into his seat behind us, long asleep, while Ann and I talked. She refused to let me stay buried in my thoughts, always dropping by
MARIAElias still hadn’t returned.The longer Isaac asked for him, the sharper my hurt grew, mingled with anger. We had our issues, yes, but Isaac had just woken after a month in a coma. The least Elias could do was—“Daddy.”“Hi, my big boy.”I spun toward him, heart lurching, a flutter rising in my stomach at the sound of his voice.He carried two flowers, a box of chocolate, some of Isaac’s favorite drinks, and a giant teddy bear. Carefully, he set them behind me on the bed table, then pulled Isaac close. Isaac clung to him, eyes glistening, smile wide and uncontainable.My chest twisted with ache and longing. Tears threatened again. Isaac didn’t know we were leaving—not long, but just for a little while. I wondered if he could bear to separate from his father. I barely could.“I am sorry for coming late, buddy. Do you forgive me?” Elias asked, voice cracking.Isaac nodded into him, hugging tighter. Elias sniffed; I couldn’t see his face. I desperately wanted to.They pulled apart
MARIAThis should be what death feels like.That was the first thought when the idea of leaving crept into my head. It sounded impossible, unreal, like a cruel joke. There was no Maria without Elias, after all. But then I sat there, staring at Isaac in the hospital bed, and I just knew—I had to leave, and I had to take Isaac with me. I didn’t know for how long, or how far, but I knew I had to go.Then the real death came when I saw Elias at the coffee stand. His eyes swollen, his jaw sharper than ever, cheekbones protruding like he had carved himself from grief, from sleepless nights, from everything he endured alongside me. His knuckles were bruised, and seeing them made my throat close up like a vase shattering from the inside. He was suffering because of me, because of us, and it hurt in a way I didn’t think was possible.And now I was about to hurt him again with the news that I was leaving.He sat in the kitchen, still as stone, shoulders stiff, eyes red-rimmed, face like he had
ELIASHer eyes met mine, dull but still so achingly beautiful. She looked tired, broken, her face thinner, her lips pale. The bubbly Maria I once knew was gone. What remained was quieter and heavier, but still her. Still breathtaking enough to hurt to look at.“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice catching halfway through. “Kola said you sent for me.”It came out softer than I intended, uncertain, almost boyish. Like a child speaking to his first crush. I hated how unsteady it sounded, how she could still make me feel this small.Maria took her sweet time torturing me. Her eyes trailed over my face, down my body, then back up again, slow, deliberate and unsettling. Every step she took toward me made my breathing heavier, my fists clenching tighter inside my pockets, my throat growing painfully dry.But I didn’t move. I stood rooted in place, half-expecting the slap I knew I probably deserved. Maybe I even wanted it, some physical reminder of how badly I’d screwed everything up.Instead, h
ELIAS“Take this to Maria in the room. Force her to take it if you have to,” I said, my voice low but firm, as I shoved a cup of coffee and a plate of chocolate bread—her favorite—into Ann’s hands.Ann looked at me like she wanted to say something. “She still hadn’t spoken to you?”I exhaled slowly, shoving my hands into my pockets. “No,” I muttered, turning away before she could read the frustration on my face. I could feel her eyes on me as I walked off—heavy, pitiful, full of sympathy I didn’t ask for.I didn’t need her pity. I didn’t need anyone’s.I had brought this upon myself. Whatever this cold war was between Maria and me, I had built it brick by brick. Now I had to live with it. Still, it didn’t stop me from wishing she would just… let me in. Or at least accept help, from me, from anyone.For days, she had done nothing but sit beside Isaac’s bed. Her eyes stayed fixed on his tiny frame, the rise and fall of his chest, her fingers brushing his blanket while she hummed that sa







