The Rise of Damola

Chapter 46- Embracing hope

Thirty-two weeks later,

~BUNMI~

The late afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm, golden glow across our living room. I sank into the cushions of the sofa, my swollen belly leading the way. At this point, I was more belly than anything else. My legs felt heavy, my back ached, and my feet were so swollen that I had long forgotten about shoes. But despite the discomfort, a sense of peace and contentment filled me. I rested my hand on my belly, feeling the gentle kicks of our twins, and smiled.

Damola came into the room, his sleeves rolled up, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice in hand. "Here, love," he said, placing it gently on the table beside me. "Are you comfortable? Do you need anything else?"

I couldn't help but smile at him. "Damola, you've asked me that at least five times today."

"And I'll ask it five more if it means making sure you and the babies are okay," he replied, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, then placed a hand on my belly, his thumb tracing slow, comforting circles. "You've been carrying them so well. It won't be long now."

"Not long at all," I agreed, my voice filled with both excitement and a little bit of nervousness. "It's hard to believe that soon, we'll have two little ones running around."

He knelt beside the sofa, his face level with my belly, and whispered, "Don't give your mother too much trouble, alright? She's already a superhero."

I laughed, swatting him playfully. "They've been trouble from the start, and I doubt they'll stop once they're born."

But truthfully, every little discomfort, every sleepless night, was worth it. The journey to get here had been anything but easy, and I knew how lucky we were to be welcoming not just one child, but two—two beautiful lives that would be born into a world we were working to make better.

"Speaking of superheroes," Damola said, standing up and settling beside me on the couch, "I got an update from the foundation today. They're moving forward with the new women's clinic in Lagos. Once it's completed, we'll be able to provide healthcare to over 300 women a month."

My heart swelled with pride. The foundation had been our passion project—a way to give back after everything we'd been through. Damola and I had started the Embracing Hope Initiative just a few months after we discovered I was pregnant. We both knew we wanted to do something meaningful, something that could change lives.

We focused on women and children, especially those living in poverty or facing disease, providing them with access to education, healthcare, and resources. It was our way of turning the pain we'd endured into something positive, something that could bring light to others who needed it.

"That's incredible," I said softly, leaning into Damola's side. "You've worked so hard on this."

"We've worked so hard on this," he corrected, his arm wrapping around my shoulders. "None of this would have been possible without you. You're the heart of the foundation. You keep us all going."

I smiled, though I didn't quite believe him. Damola had been the one tirelessly pushing through, handling the logistics, the meetings, and the endless planning. Even when I was too tired or too sick to move some days, he never stopped. His dedication, his love for me and the babies, and his passion for helping others—it all reminded me every day of why I'd fallen in love with him in the first place.

Our past had been full of turmoil, of challenges that sometimes felt insurmountable. But standing on the other side of it all, I could see how it had shaped us, made us stronger. We were partners in every sense of the word—through the worst of it, and now, as we began to build something beautiful.

"Do you remember how scared we were when we first started this?" I asked, my voice soft. "How we weren't sure if we were ready, if we could even do it?"

Damola nodded, a distant look in his eyes. "I remember. But I also remember you telling me that fear was never a reason to stop. That we couldn't wait for the perfect time because it would never come. We had to make our time perfect."

I smiled, knowing he was right. There had been so many reasons to give up, to let fear win. But together, we had pushed through. And now, we were seeing the fruits of that perseverance—the foundation growing, thriving, helping so many women and children who had been forgotten or left behind by society.

As if on cue, my phone buzzed with a message from one of our program managers. I opened it and read a short update about the school we had just built for girls in a rural community. The message came with a picture—dozens of young girls in uniform, smiling as they stood in front of the new building.

Tears filled my eyes. "Look at this," I whispered, showing Damola the picture. "Look at them. All those girls who now have a chance at a better future because of what we've done."

Damola's eyes softened as he looked at the screen. "We're just getting started," he said, kissing my temple. "There's so much more we're going to do."

I wiped at my eyes, my heart full. "I'm so grateful, Damola. For everything. For you."

He turned to me, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that never failed to make my heart flutter. "No, Bunmi. I'm the one who's grateful. You've been through so much, and yet, here you are—still shining, still pushing forward. I can't wait to meet our babies, but I can't imagine doing this with anyone else. You're my strength."

I leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body, the steadiness of his presence. "We make each other strong."

For a moment, we sat there in silence, just holding each other, the weight of our shared history and the promise of our future wrapping around us like a comforting blanket. The world outside had changed for us—our business was thriving, our foundation was growing, and soon, our family would be complete with the arrival of our twins.

But here, in this quiet, golden-lit moment, I knew that the true success, the real happiness, was in the love we had built. Through every storm, we had found our way back to each other, and now, we were ready to face the future with hope.

"Now," I said, breaking the silence, "before I start crying all over again, how about you take me shopping for the nursery? We still need to pick out their crib, and I'm sure you'll love getting lost in all the baby gear."

Damola groaned dramatically but smiled. "You and this baby shopping. I think you've already picked out half the store."

"There's always room for more," I teased, slowly getting up with his help.

He laughed, wrapping an arm around my waist to steady me. "Alright, let's go. But if I have to carry a mountain of baby clothes out of there, you owe me one."

"I think carrying two babies inside me for nine months means I owe you nothing," I shot back with a grin.

He shook his head, still smiling. "Fair enough. Let's go get ready for our little ones."

As we left the house, hand in hand, I knew that whatever came next, we would face it together. Our love had survived the hardest of trials, and now, we were stepping into the light; stronger, wiser, and ready for all the joy that lay ahead.