The Student Teacher Affair

34: A little under the weather

Mercy's pov

The drive to the airport was a quiet one. Nathaniel sat in his car seat, gazing out the window as we made our way through the familiar streets of Brussels. My mom was in the passenger seat beside me, her hands resting in her lap as she hummed a quiet tune. There was an air of finality to our journey today, a sense that things were about to change at least for a little while.

My mom had been with us for months, helping out with Nathaniel and offering her endless support. Her presence had always been a comfort, a reminder that I wasn't alone in navigating this complex life I’d built for myself and my son. But now, it was time for her to return to Nigeria. My father and her business back home demanded her attention, and as much as I understood that, I couldn't help the sadness that weighed on me.

We arrived at the airport, the usual hustle and bustle greeting us as we parked and made our way inside. Nathaniel held my hand tightly, his small face turned up to his grandmother with wide eyes. He was still too young to fully grasp the concept of distance, of how far away Nigeria really was, but he knew enough to feel the pang of separation.

“Grandma, you’ll come back soon, right?” Nathaniel asked, his voice laced with the kind of innocence that only a child possesses.

My mom smiled, crouching down to his level and cupping his cheek. “Of course, my dear. I’ll be back before you know it. And don’t forget, we can always talk on the phone or video chat.”

He nodded, though I could see the doubt in his eyes. He didn’t want her to leave, and honestly, neither did I.

Nathaniel leaned in and gave his grandma a kiss on the cheek, she wrapped her arms around him, holding him close for a long moment before finally letting go. As they separated, she stood and turned to me, her expression softening as she pulled me into a warm embrace.

“Take care of yourself, Mercy,” she murmured in my ear, her voice gentle yet firm. “You’re doing a wonderful job, you know that? I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I whispered back, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, my dear. But I’ll be back soon, and you know where to find me if you need anything.”

We held each other for another moment, neither of us wanting to be the first to let go. Eventually, we parted, and I watched as she turned and walked towards the security checkpoint. Nathaniel and I stood there, waving until she disappeared from sight.

As we made our way back to the car, the reality of the situation began to sink in. The apartment that had once been filled with laughter and the comforting presence of loved ones would now feel emptier, quieter. It would just be Nathaniel and me.

The following days passed in a blur. The silence of the apartment, once a refuge, now felt overwhelming. I tried to go about my usual routine, taking care of Nathaniel, preparing meals, and keeping the place tidy. But something was off. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first maybe it was the fatigue that seemed to linger no matter how much I rested, or the persistent headache that dulled my senses. Whatever it was, it wasn’t going away.

By the third day, I knew something was seriously wrong. My body ached all over, my energy drained to the point where even getting out of bed felt like an impossible task. I could barely keep my eyes open, and I hadn’t been able to eat much of anything. Nathaniel, sensing that something was wrong, tried to help in his own small ways bringing me a glass of water or sitting quietly beside me with his toys. But it wasn’t enough.

I managed to reach out to Amanda, hoping she could come by and help, but she was on a business trip and wouldn’t be back for a few more days. Despite that, she made sure to check in on us, offering to have meals delivered and making arrangements for Nathaniel’s care. Even in her absence, she was doing what she could to support us.