MONIFE

The strange familiar

MONIFE

Chapter NINE

Sleep didn’t come easy that night.

Ayomide had drifted off quickly after his bath, warm and content in his tiny blanket. Grace was already snoring softly in the next room. But me?

I lay there, wide awake, staring at the ceiling, my thoughts tangled in everything Dayo had said and everything he didn’t.

‘How did he find the courage to show up?

Was it guilt? Pressure from his mother?Or something real?’

I didn’t know. And I hated that I wanted to know.

The next morning, I walked Ayomide around the small garden behind the house, letting him absorb the morning light. He giggled at the sound of the neighbor’s rooster, clutching my finger like it was his entire world. And maybe it was.

For now.

“Your father came,” I whispered to him, brushing his cheek. “You don’t even know what that means yet. But someday… you will.”

I went back inside to find Grace in the kitchen again, this time making her special akara. The air smelled of onions, pepper, and everything familiar. She glanced up, the knowing look in her eyes saying more than words.

“So,” she said, flipping a ball of batter. “You didn’t sleep.”

I gave her a sideways glance. “How do you know?”

“You forget I carried you for nine months. I know when your silence is loud.”

I smiled faintly and sat beside her.

“I don’t know what to do,” I said finally. “He says he’s changed. That he wants to be part of Ayomide’s life.”

Grace didn’t speak immediately. She finished turning the akara, then lowered the flame and leaned on the counter.

“I hated him,” she said. “Still do, in some ways. But I’ve also lived long enough to know that hatred is heavy. And when you carry a child, you can’t afford too much weight.”

I stared at her.

She nodded toward Ayomide’s laughter in the background.

“You’re not doing this for him,” she continued. “You’re doing it for the little boy who deserves answers someday. You don’t have to trust Dayo now. You don’t have to forgive him either. But… maybe leave the door unlocked. Just a crack.”

I didn’t respond. I just listened.

Because somehow, my mother, the girl who once lost everything at seventeen had become the wisest woman I knew.

And her words stayed with me the whole week.

* * * *

On Friday, Dayo came again.

This time, he didn’t knock.

He waited by the gate, like someone who knew he didn’t deserve entry but still hoped.

I saw him through the curtain. A bouquet of sunflowers in one hand, a children’s storybook in the other. He looked awkward. Out of place.

Yet something in me… didn’t panic.

I opened the door and walked toward the gate. He saw me and stood taller, nervous all over again.

“Hi,” he said. “I didn’t bring diapers this time. I brought stories.”

I took a breath.

“Wait here,” I said. “I’ll go get him.”

His eyes widened. “Really?”

I nodded, just once.

Then I turned and went inside to get Ayomide, our son.

To Be Continued…