MONIFE

A father's first page

MONIFE

Chapter TEN

Dayo sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, the children’s storybook trembling ever so slightly in his hands. His eyes stayed fixed on Ayomide, who sat comfortably in my lap, curiously observing the new face before him.

“You can hold the book out for him,” I said quietly, adjusting Ayomide’s onesie.

He nodded, cleared his throat, and opened the cover. His voice cracked slightly at first, unsteady, like someone remembering how to ride a bicycle after a long fall.

“‘Once upon a time…’”

His voice steadied as he read, drawing out the words with animation. He smiled at Ayomide between lines, pointing at the colorful drawings.

Ayomide’s tiny fingers reached out and brushed the page, then looked at me as if asking, Is he safe?

I didn’t answer him with words.

But I didn’t stop Dayo either.

I stood nearby, arms folded but eyes soft. There was something quietly powerful about watching them; father and son. Stranger and child. A broken bridge slowly, carefully being rebuilt.

After the story ended, Ayomide let out a tiny squeal and clapped his hands together. Dayo beamed like he’d just won a medal.

“He liked it,” he whispered.

“He did,” I replied. “One story doesn’t make you a father though.”

“I know,” he said, still smiling. “But I’m willing to read a thousand more if it helps.”

After a while, Grace stepped in from the backyard and offered Dayo a cup of zobo. I held my breath. Her eyes lingered on him longer than usual.

“I see you came back,” she said coolly.

“Yes ma. Thank you for… letting me in.”

“I didn’t let you in,” she said, glancing toward me. “She did.”

Dayo nodded respectfully. “I’ll earn it.”

Grace gave a faint, approving grunt, her version of a blessing.

That evening, after he left, the house felt oddly quiet. Not empty… just different.

As I put Ayomide to bed, he babbled a few sleepy sounds that made me laugh. Then he touched my cheek with his tiny hand, like a thank-you.

And for the first time in a long time, I allowed myself a moment of peace.

‘Was Dayo becoming the man I had once believed he could be?’

I didn’t know yet. But I wasn’t writing him off anymore.

Not for me.

For our son.

To Be Continued…