Survivor's Guilt
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- Parts 2
The mall was loud, alive, and glittering with end-of-year sales. Teenagers rushed past us in groups, music pumped from every shop window, and the food court smelled like jollof rice and fried chicken. Kayla had already dragged me into three boutiques, and we still hadn't found the dress.
She was graduating secondary school next week. Prom was in three days. And she was radiant - full of laughter and excitement, her braids bouncing as she talked nonstop about colors, heels, and who was going with who.
We were just stepping out of one of the stores when I saw him.
He was standing by the children's play area, a little boy clinging to his hand, chattering about something only toddlers cared about.
But Henry wasn't listening.
He was staring at me.
Frozen.
Just like I was.
Fourteen years.
Fourteen years since I packed two small bags, bundled Kayla and Michael into the backseat, and drove away without a word. Fourteen years of silence. Fourteen years of raising my children alone.
And now - here - in the middle of Ikeja City Mall on a Saturday afternoon, he was standing not ten feet from me, as if God had dropped him into my world again.
Older. Broader. Grey just beginning to touch the edges of his beard. But it was him. The man I had once loved. The man I once feared. The man I left.
The boy beside him, no older than four, tugged again. "Daddy?"
Henry didn't blink. His eyes stayed locked on mine.
I couldn't breathe.
"Mom?"
Kayla's voice brought me back.
She was looking up at me, confused. "Mom, are you okay?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. Every breath hurt.
---
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