Her Worth

Eighteen

The morning sun came and shone its light down on the room, illuminating everything in its path. It awoke N'ijah, cradling a and almost two year old Israel, who was fast asleep on her chest. He had walked out of his little crib the night before and poked her until she woke up and let him sleep with her.

Carefully, she set him down on the bed and quietly crept out of the room, going to go make breakfast. The sunlight illuminated even the smallest nooks of the monotone kitchen, and let the house feel new. As she walked into the kitchen, realization came in fast. Today was the two year anniversary of her divorce.

Only the year before, N'ijah had been regretting things she had done. She lamented, she cried, and she fell back into the dark place she thought she'd never go back to. Her heart was ripped apart, and it felt like it would never come back together again.

But now? She couldn't even recognize herself anymore. Her hair was fuller and longer, her hips were wider, and she was more fit than ever. But inside, her heart had started to heal. N'ijah knew she'd never been the same, and that her heart may never truly heal, but that it had at least started, and that was enough of her. Slowly, she started picking up her torn pieces, and fitting them back together again.

Her doorbell's continuous dining cut off N'ijah's inner monologue as quick as it had started. Rushing over to the door, she opened it to find Darius, holding a bouquet of lotus flowers, vibrant purple and blue.

"You know me all too well."

"I have been dating you for the last year and a half, so I'd expect myself to know at least your favorite flower." N'ijah laughed, but the gesture was truly sweet to her. Jamari had never brung her flowers, or even asked her what her favorite was, just bought her diamonds and ignored her. She cherished every single moment with Darius, not wanting the same thing to happen with him.

The pair cooked together in silence, not wanting to wake the sleeping child, which they did anyways. Israel ran out the door, dressed in his blue Power Ranger pajamas and rubbing his eyes till they were almost pink.

"Mummi!" He yelled out, grabbing his mother's nightgown in an attempt to get her to notice him. He pulled N'ijah down to his eyes level and smiled sweetly at her.

"I'm hungwy." Israel put his hands out in front, waiting for his plate to be put in his hands.

"What's the magic word?"

"I'm hungwy, please?" He tried, making the two adults laugh. Darius took some pancakes straight from the pan and plated it, giving it to the little boy, knowing he'd want to pour the syrup himself.

"Tank you, sir!" He bowed, and marched to his seat, prompting another bout of laughter between the couple. N'ijah couldn't believe how big her little man was. He was just born to her, and here he was. Talking and walking, even helping her with chores voluntarily. Israel was the apple of her eye, which anyone, even without any knowledge of them, could see plainly.

Her family was good, and that was all that mattered to her.

. . .

"Hey baby." Andreas came in from behind Niya, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck lightly.

"Hey. How was your day?" She asked, keeping his hands around her and turning to greet him with a kiss.

"Amazing, now that you're in it." Andreas cheesed. Niya was obsessed with the idea of corny, cute little jokes, and Andreas loved it. Everytime she blushed, his head sang.

"Baby?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm pregnant. Again." Niya let a heavy sigh and moved away from Andreas, unsure of how he was going to react. Kiara was only two, and she didn't want to put another baby on the already tight schedule those two had.