yes

Living In Shadow Of Death 6

After all the long, grueling days of trying to rebuild trust and prove myself, a small shift began to take place. It wasn’t immediate, and it wasn’t grand, but it was something I could feel in my heart. It started with the simplest things—the way my siblings would smile when I walked into the room, the way my aunt’s eyes softened just a little when she spoke to me, the small conversations that weren’t filled with tension.

It was as if the shadow of the past was beginning to lift, bit by bit.

One evening, after I had finished my chores, I decided to surprise my family with a meal. It was something small, but I wanted to do something nice for them. I didn’t have much to work with—just rice, some beans, and a few vegetables from the market—but I cooked with all the care I could muster. I remembered how my mom used to cook, the way the kitchen smelled, the warmth of the food, and the laughter that filled our home. For the first time in a long time, I felt the weight of that memory and allowed myself to smile, just a little.

When dinner was ready, I called everyone to the table. Michael was the first to arrive, his eyes wide as he sniffed the air.

> “It smells good!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound foreign to my own ears, but so welcome. It felt good to hear it. Michael’s joy was contagious, and soon, Joseph joined us, his quiet presence always grounding me.

My aunt and uncle arrived a bit later, surprised by the sudden dinner I had prepared. I could see the hesitation in their eyes, the uncertainty of whether this was another attempt that would fall short. But they sat down anyway, and when they tasted the food, something shifted. The awkwardness between us started to melt.

> “This is actually good,” my uncle said, raising an eyebrow in mild surprise.

> “You’ve really outdone yourself,” my aunt added, a hint of pride in her voice.

That was all it took. A compliment. A simple acknowledgment of my effort. It didn’t fix everything, but in that moment, I felt like I was finally being seen—not for my mistakes, but for the person I was trying to become.

The evening passed more easily than I had anticipated. We talked, we laughed, and for the first time in months, it felt like a real family again. My uncle even cracked a joke, something that had become rare in our house. My aunt seemed to relax, her stern exterior softening as she smiled at something Joseph had said.

For the first time, I let myself relax too. There was no tension, no guilt hovering in the air. It was just us, together. And that felt like a victory.

---

A few days later, I had another moment of unexpected joy. I was walking to the market when I bumped into an old friend from the village, Ngozi. We had been close before everything fell apart, but time and circumstances had separated us. She was surprised to see me, her eyes wide with recognition.

“Deborah! Is that really you?” she asked, almost in disbelief. “Look at you! You look so…different. So much stronger.”