A young woman who battles deep-rooted insecurities, faces the ultimate test of love and friendship when she discovers the people she trusted the most betrayed her.
_______________________________________
Missa has always been a little insecure aroun...
He finally stepped aside, and I got out as fast as I could. Once in the hallway, I leaned on the wall and breathed in slowly. My eyes were burning already, those traitor tears right on the edge. But Clara was waiting for me, and I was not going to appear in tears in front of her. One last sharp breath, and I opened her door.
She was up already, her cute little fingers gripped on the edge of her bed fence, swinging her body back and forth. When she saw me, she giggled and quickly laid back next to her teddy bear and faked being asleep. It gave me my first smile of the day. It was a game between us, I was now going to open the curtains and trickle her until she burst out laughing. And of course, she had no resistance to my expert trickle attacks, I needed less than a second for the charming sound of her genuine laughter to fill the room.
"Hey sweetie!" I carried her in my arms. "Did you have a good night? Give mama a kiss to wish her a good day!"
Clara squeezed my cheeks in her tiny hands and left a noisy kiss on my forehead, with its amount of saliva. I did the same and we started our daily routine. I cleaned and changed her, then we went to the kitchen for her breakfast. It was already done, the table was set with Clara's plastic spoon and bowl full of a still hot porridge. I looked around for Samuel, but he was nowhere to be seen. Deep down, I was happy he also had in mind our baby's wellbeing and somehow kept with his part of her morning routine.
"Dada!" Clara yelled and turned around. She was looking for her father, because he usually gave her breakfast on weekends.
Sometimes I felt like she loved him more than me, because whenever there was an occasion, she would request for Samuel to take over. Bath times, bedtime, anything. But she hardly allowed me to do the same. I sighed, this morning's breakfast would break a lot of things.
"Sweety! Dad is not well, he needs some rest. So I will give you breakfast, okay?"
She turned around and gave me a deadly look before looking back at the door, probably waiting for Samuel to come in. I swear if her vocabulary was more developed, she would have said something like "Are you mad?" I would have to be careful, if I didn't want the house to be filled with a baby demon's hysterical screams.
"Clara, look. Look at me!" I waved a hand before her eyes to get her attention. "Dad is not well. Do you get me? Dad has a little bobo, he needs to rest to get better. So he can't give you breakfast, you see?"
She frowned. It was a bad sign. I was certainly not convincing enough, because she probably caught on to my lie. She has always been good at it. A baby demon with a lie detector in the ears. The hysterical crisis was now unavoidable. Today was definitely not a good morning. The countdown was on. Ten seconds. I had ten seconds to find something to calm her down. I looked all around me, I needed something to get her attention. But we were in the kitchen, all of her toys were in her room or the living room. And leaving her alone was not an option. Five seconds, a drop of sweat rolled down my spine. I was doomed. Two seconds...
"Hey little princess!" Samuel walked in the kitchen with his most charming smile.
The little grey cloud that formed on top of Clara's head magically vanished as she saw him, and the frown was replaced by a bright smile. He didn't waste time and gave her the first spoon.
"I know you don't want to see me right now," Samuel had his eyes focused on Clara, his voice was calm and low. "But let me help you with that. It's my turn anyway."
I watched him as he fed the now happy baby demon. And I had to admit he was a really good father. He had a way with Clara I envied him. He had always been able to calm her down faster than me. They probably developed a strong bond during my postpartum depression when he was the one mainly taking care of her, with my mother. In fact so many things happened during these four months... It feels like I lost my whole life back then.
I couldn't take care of my baby, and failed to create a perfect relationship with her when it would have been the easiest. I remember the first day I had to fully take care of her, she cried most of the time, and I felt powerless. Now, she seemed to bear with me but obviously preferred her dad. I also lost my job, since I couldn't resume work after my maternity leave. And it was not their fault. I mean, I was barely able to feed myself at some point. And I was not exactly fired, they just didn't renew my contract. So ever since, I turned into a housewife. And yesterday I learnt I also lost my husband and best friend in the process. Damn postpartum.
"Going to the bakery," I walked out before tears escaped from my eyes. No matter how much my life sucked, I was absolutely not crying in front of Clara. That would be the highest level of life sucking, crying in front of my baby.
The bakery was located in your average local house. A wide compound, an old building and a raw concrete wall fence. Only the front door could tell people there was a bakery in there. The front door was painted red, with a very unrealistic bread drawing, the kind of drawings kindergarten kids could produce. And under the drawing were handwritten in white "Akua's Bakery".
I opened the front door and walked towards the traditional terracotta oven where Akua was busy taking out a fresh batch of bread. When she saw me, she gave me her brightest smile, showcasing the empty spot of one missing canine. Akua was a woman in her sixties, she was tall, with round hips, full butts and breasts, her head seemed half the size of her chest. Her salt and pepper hair were always arranged in traditional and sophisticated braids. She had the darkest carnations I had ever seen, yet she seemed to be glowing whenever I saw her. She gave me my second smile of the day.
"Good morning my dear!" she shouted with her hoarse voice, her thick north Ghanian accent more obvious as she was focused on work. She heavily sat on a little wooden stool that literally disappeared under her round ass.
"Good morning, Da Akua!" I sat on a bench next to her. Being a regular for more than a year now, this place was almost like kome.
"How is our baby?"
"Oh fine!" I looked on the ground. "She's with the love of her life."
"Eeh! You jealous of your baby, my dear?" She raised an elbow and smirked. "You can't blame her oh! You got quite a good looking man there! Even I would be found of him if I were thirty years younger!"
"I guess he has quite a fanbase," I rolled my eyes in annoyance.
"Handsome, hardworking, loving and caring, a good father... You should really hold onto him, you know? These kind of men are getting rare." She insisted on the last word.
I didn't reply. What would she think if she were to find out what he did? But of course, I couldn't tell her. So I simply managed to smile. But her furrow showed she didn't buy it.
"Whatever the problem between you, never forget marriage is not all pink. There are grey, even black moments sometimes, but that is what makes pink moments even pinker. And now that you have a kid, her happiness will always come first. As long as you both have that in mind, you will always manage to find the best solution. And now take your bread and go feed your family! It's on the house today."
"Thank you, Da Akua!" I took the bread and smiled. A real smile this time.
She didn't give me the solution, but she comforted me. I went back home to find Samuel and Clara playing in the living room. When he saw me, he stood up and we stared at each other for a moment, not knowing what to say or do. I was not ready to have that discussion yet. But I was not going to let what happened impact my baby's happiness.
"Let's have breakfast. We will talk later." And I disappeared into the kitchen.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
