CHAPTER 13 : PIECES OF HER HEART
908 Words
The room was warmer now. Maybe it was Noah’s smile that made it so, or maybe the way his voice—though thinner than before—still carried its old charm. He was propped against a pillow, and Amara sat beside him, her hand tucked gently into his like it had always belonged there.
“Do you remember when you tried to sneak out with Kemi’s bicycle and landed in the gutter?” Noah asked, grinning despite the oxygen tube clipped gently to his nose.
Amara laughed. A real laugh this time, light and deep from her chest. “You’ll never forget that, will you?”
“I mean, your wig flew off like it had its own plans!” He chuckled again, and she hit his arm playfully.
The laughter between them fell into a comfortable rhythm, like music from a forgotten time. For a moment, it wasn’t about sickness or surgeries. It was just Amara and Noah—siblings, friends, survivors of too much pain too soon.
They shared old memories—of school fights, burnt dinners, past birthdays. They teased each other about exes.
“I still don’t get why you dated that Emeka guy,” Noah said with mock disgust. “He looked like someone who’d sell fake shoes for a living.”
Amara rolled her eyes. “And what about you and that Mariam girl who made you delete all the female contacts on your phone?”
They both laughed again.
Then his tone grew softer, more serious. “You’ve not told me much about Zayn. He’s your husband, right?”
Her heart skipped. The name felt heavy even in Noah’s mouth.
She nodded slightly. “We’re… managing.”
He studied her face for a beat too long, his brows pinched. “I know it’s not my business, but if he’s not treating you right—”
“No, no. It’s not that,” she cut in gently, looking away. “It’s… complicated.”
He didn’t press further, but his fingers squeezed hers. “You’ve always been the strong one, Ama. You held this family together after the accident. Whatever you’re doing now, I trust it’s because you love me.”
She blinked back tears and kissed the back of his hand. “You’ll get better. I promise.”
“Then go get me suya and those kilishi snacks you know I love,” he teased weakly. “I miss chewing meat.”
She stood, smiling through her sadness. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
⸻
The wind felt gentler at the graveyard. Quiet and still. The grass danced slowly over the low hills, and the sky above was a soft shade of grey, as though the heavens themselves mourned with her.
Amara knelt before the two gravestones. Her eyes swept over the names etched in stone—Mr. and Mrs. Jackson.
“Hi Mum. Hi Dad…” Her voice cracked, and suddenly, the sob she’d been holding in all week escaped her lips. It came out broken. Ragged.
“I don’t know where to start,” she whispered, gripping the flowers in her hands tightly. “I went to see Noah today. He smiled. He even joked with me… but I’m scared. I’m scared, Mum. The doctors are saying another surgery. Another chance. Another maybe. How many maybes do we have left?”
Her tears dropped onto the dirt.
“Why did you leave that night?” she choked, gripping her chest. “Why did you both have to go out? Why didn’t I stop you?”
Her shoulders trembled as she bent her head lower. “I was so angry that night. And then the next thing I knew… you were both gone. I wasn’t ready. I’m still not ready. I’ve been trying, but I can’t do this alone anymore.”
She looked up at the sky, as though hoping for an answer from the clouds.
“I married a man I don’t even know… not out of love. Not for happiness. But because someone at work told me he could help. Because he’s rich. Because I was desperate. Because it was the only way to save Noah.”
She sobbed harder. “I signed away my freedom, my future. I buried myself, just so he could live. And now… they’re saying the first surgery didn’t work. They’re asking me to keep hoping. To keep pretending.”
Her hands dug into the soil beside the graves. “Tell me I did the right thing. Tell me I’m not losing myself for nothing. Please… I need to know this pain is not in vain.”
The wind whispered through the trees.
“I miss you,” she said, her voice now a fragile whisper. “I miss your voices, your comfort. I miss being someone’s daughter. I miss home.”
She laid the flowers down gently and touched the cold headstone with her trembling fingers.
“I’m so tired,” she admitted. “But I’ll keep going. For Noah.”
She stood slowly, her knees weak, her body heavy.
“Please, wherever you are… guide me.”
She turned back toward the car, her face wet with grief, but her steps—though slow—held the faintest trace of strength. Of resolve.
She would keep walking.
For her brother.
For the promise she made.
For the love that still lived in her heart, even when everything else had died.
- Writer
