Promises

Chapter 10

Trigger for mention of miscarriage

Four and a Half Years Later

Ada stood in front of the open window, the California breeze swept through and ruffled her curls. As long as they'd lived there, she still couldn't believe the weather. She pressed the handle of her paintbrush to her lips and pushed her hair back with messy hands, taking a step back to look at what she'd done so far. It was a painting to illustrate their journey, separately together, apart, and then together fully. California was the real beginning of their time together as a family and Ada wanted something for their living room to remember.

After Sade was born, the family of three took a trip to Wakanda. With that came a lot of political machinations that Ada wasn't ready for. Erik just about ripped the head off of the council member who suggested betrothing his infant daughter to one of their grandchildren. As much as Queen Ramonda wanted to parade the newest member of royal family to the rest of the country, Ada and Erik were adamant of that not happening. Their baby wouldn't be political fodder for a country who would've preferred her father stay dead. As accepting of Erik as those outside of the family had become, it was only after he had proven himself to be useful to their interest in navigating the rest of the world. Sade would know her birthright but would be allowed to forge her own path, just like her parents had both had to.

After establishing their position on that, the rest of the three month trip was paradise. The time away to bond with her baby girl and her boyfriend solidified their bond as a family. Picnics in the gardens and swimming in the rivers gave them the freedom to relax and make plans for what life would be like upon their return to the states. Before they left, however, T'Challa came to Erik with the opportunity that would be the perfect fit in their plans: the outreach center in Oakland. This would give Wakanda the opportunity to establish a foothold in major cities with disproportionate Black people and offer aid in a way that their cities couldn't or wouldn't. It was a compromise to Erik's original mission: to finally take back what was built by enslaved people, by giving them the resources and advantages that they weren't privy to before. It would mean uprooting Ada's life to California but she wasn't attached to her life in Boston; her only acquaintances had been the people she'd worked with and they could follow her on instagram if they really cared. This would give Erik the opportunity to be home more with Ada and Sade, something they'd both wanted. No more going on long missions with no communications. Ada'd laid down her requirements of him; it was up to Erik to make sure he met them.

So they moved to California, to a house Ada had never expected to ever be able to afford. Seven bedrooms, a pool, a yard for Sade to play in as she got older, an office for Erik, a studio for Ada to paint and craft in. It was a dream for them. Erik got started on the work for the center, Ada stayed home with Sade, and eventually taught classes at the center once it was up and running. It was a good life, their own piece of Wakanda, of paradise.

"Mommy," Sade tugged on Ada's jeans with her own paint filled hands, "look I'm finished." 

Ada snapped out of her thoughts to give her daughter's canvas some praise. "Oh sweetie, it's beautiful." The messy lines and colors came together to make a poopy green color. "Describe it to me."

"It's me and Auntie Shuri in Wakanda and I have on a crown because I'm a princess likeBaba says." Her child was so smug, secure in her self in a way that only a four year could be.

"Yes I can see that." Ada was lying like hell but it was ok. This was just an activity to keep her quiet since she refused to nap. Sade enjoyed painting with mommy but hopefully Erik was out of his office and ready to take over with her. "Let's set this on the floor so that it can dry and we can send it to Aunt Shuri."

After helping her clean up in the attached bathroom, Sade ran off, probably in search of her father. Ada stood in front of her own painting again, still at a block on how to finish it. Before she could pick up her brush again, cries came through the monitor she set next to the easel. Ada closed the door behind her and made her way to the nursery. Leaning over the crib she was met with the gummy smile of her six month old daughter.