Epilogue
219 Words
One year later, Ada sat by the window of their small living room, a steaming cup of tea in her hands. The house was quiet, her daughters still wrapped in sleep, their soft breathing filling the silence. Outside, the sky was streaked with gold, the dawn breaking gently over the city. Chuka walked in, hair tousled, still in his pajamas. He handed her a piece of toast and kissed her forehead.
“You published today?” he asked.
She smiled. “Just about to.”
Her writing platform had grown into a vibrant community — not just a place to read, but to be heard. Women like her now write boldly. Some still whispered. But none wrote alone.
She clicked “publish” on her latest entry — no fear, no hesitation.
Moments later, a familiar comment popped up beneath it. Short. Gentle. Sure.
"You didn’t just find your voice. You helped me find mine too. — Damilola Onyeka. Your husband. Always."
Her heart caught in her throat. She turned slowly toward Chuka, who was now watching her with soft eyes.
“All this time… was it you?” she asked.
He nodded. “I wanted to understand you. So, I listened.”
Ada smiled, her eyes wet with gratitude and hope.
This wasn’t the end.
Just another beginning.
- Writer
