Azariah - God Has Helped

Chapter 7

Kiara had been battered by life over the past few months, her world tilting into chaos she could never have imagined. Yet she clung to composure—not just for herself, but for Davar, who leaned on her without even knowing it. Hunger had become her closest companion, gnawing at her insides like a relentless phantom. When she ate, it was only from the small, shared scraps Shonette, Davar's eldest sister, graciously offered. They would split the meals, forcing smiles that barely masked the emptiness inside.

This wasn't life Kiara had dreamed of, but she stayed. She stayed for Davar. She stayed because, in the shadow of all her pain, he had become her anchor. He had brought warmth into her frostbitten world, a flicker of light when everything else threatened to consume her.

Davar's mother had died when he was three, leaving him tossed from home to home, a boy adrift in a sea of relatives. By age nine, he had settled with his sister's mother—until she disrespected Kiara, and that became the final push toward independence. 

Now they lived with Ken, Davar's father, a man whose warmth and kindness filled the corners of Kiara's heart she thought had long since hardened. In that house, she felt welcomed, seen, even loved. She didn't miss her own family—what she had with Davar was messy, fragile, but hers.

And yet, peace was fleeting.

That afternoon, she lay on her back, staring at the ceiling as though the cracks in the plaster could offer answers. A strange, twisting discomfort churned in her stomach, tight and insistent. Her appetite had abandoned her, replaced with a hollow nausea that made her hands tremble. Her throat tightened, a lump rising, threatening to spill the contents of her gut.

Davar was gone—off to his welding course, chasing the dream she loved him for, the dream that gave her hope even in these desperate times. She watched the walls of their small room tilt and spin. Her body was betraying her—pale, weak, constantly yearning for relief.

And then the thought struck her like lightning: her period was late. Two days late. Fear coiled around her chest, squeezing. She could almost hear her own heart thudding in protest. If she was pregnant... if she was really pregnant...

Her mind raced, spiraling into panic. They were barely surviving. How could she carry a child into this? How could she—how could they—manage another life?

Her trembling hands traced the curve of her stomach, as if she could read the answer in her own skin. The questions crashed in waves:

What if I am? What will I do? How could I survive this?

Panic pushed her upright. She had to know. She had to confirm it. Clothes were pulled on in a blur, and she raced to a pharmacy, bought the test, and returned, trembling.

                                                                                      **************

Sitting on the edge of the bed, tears streaming unchecked, she stared at the two stark lines. Confirmation. Reality. She was nineteen. Barely an adult. And already, life was demanding more than she could bear.

She had helped raise her siblings, yes—but a child of her own? In this chaos? In this hunger? In this world that refused to bend toward her? Her heart ached at the thought. She pressed her fingers against her still-flat stomach, wishing it could tell her everything would be okay, wishing it could erase the lines that condemned her.

Her mind flashed to Davar's phone, to the messages that had pierced her soul. Flirtations, offers, distractions—he had hurt her, even when she gave herself entirely to him. She had given up Shanoya. She had given herself. And yet the betrayal lingered like smoke, thick and suffocating.