5:45 AM.
The harsh red glow of the digital clock sliced through the dimness of the bedroom. She lay still for a moment, heart pacing for no reason, the weight of unrest still thick in her chest. She hadn't slept well. How could she? When the man meant to be her peace had become her storm?
She turned slowly, her eyes meeting the familiar dents in the mattress where his body used to lay. Now empty. Yet the tension he carried into the house lingered like smoke.
She closed her eyes. The memories came quickly—faster than she could block them. The way he had swept her off her feet years ago. Charming. Intentional. Back then, he would come by with little gifts, wrap her in those tender words, and hold her hand as if she was the only woman alive. She truly thought she had found the one. A man with promise, purpose, love.
She laughed bitterly.
Or so she thought.
Reality hit the day the gifts stopped and his tone changed. When he stopped looking at her like treasure and started treating her like burden. His temper, his avoidance, the endless bills left unpaid, the cold silences. She blinked back tears but failed. They slipped out in betrayal, soaking into the pillow.
She had wasted her life on a man who couldn't see her worth. Who drained her, left her with children to care for, and still had the audacity to walk around like the world owed him something.
But she couldn't break. Not here. Not now. She wasn't alone.
She sat up, rubbed her eyes roughly, and whispered to herself, "They must never see me cry. Not Dara, not Dayo, not Ella, not Dimeji. They are my strength now. My jewels. They must have a better life. Even if it kills me."
She wiped her face, drew in a deep breath, and moved to the twins' room.
"Wake up, stars," she said softly, tapping them gently.
Dara stirred first. "Mummy, it's not even light yet."
"Still doesn't change the fact that school is school," she chuckled.
She didn't bother waking Ella. That girl was always up by herself. And Dimeji—God, Dimeji was a case for another day. Getting him up was like pleading with a rock to walk.
She got the twins ready with precision and care. Even if it was the end of term and most kids were just going to run around and play, it gave her some sanity to keep things normal. Plus, she knew they loved seeing their friends.
After breakfast, she packed up and headed to work. The walk wasn't long, but her mind never left her. Thoughts circled her like vultures. Bills. Rent. Debt. That man.
At her small shop, she arranged her wares, swept the floor, then waited. A familiar face lit up her morning.
"Mama Ella!" the voice called.
She smiled weakly. "Ah, Mama Kike. You're early today."
"You know me now. When I'm not here, I'm not sane. My house is always full of noise. At least here I can talk to a human being."
She chuckled. That was true. Mama Kike was like a sister, sometimes even more than that. A therapist she didn't pay. They understood each other without judgment.
They settled into easy conversation. Mama Kike brought gist as usual. Who got married, who was pregnant, who was caught with whose husband. Today's highlight was a neighbor's daughter who allegedly ran off with her pastor. The woman rolled her eyes so dramatically, it made her laugh.
"People are mad in this town," Mama Kike said.
She tried to laugh, to stay in the moment. But as her eyes drifted across the street, she froze.
A long, sleek, black SUV slid past them, polished to perfection. Inside, a woman with makeup so smooth it looked airbrushed, drove with the confidence of a queen. Her clothes sparkled, her jewelry gleamed.
Her chest tightened.
That could be me. That should be me.
She didn't hear the rest of Mama Kike's story. Her ears buzzed with quiet resentment.
"Mama Ella?" her friend nudged her.
She blinked.
"Sorry… I just zoned out."
Mama Kike stared at her knowingly. "You're thinking again. About your husband."
She looked down. Said nothing.
"Don't let that man kill your fire," she said, softer now. "He's not worth the sadness in your eyes."
She swallowed hard. "It's not just about him anymore. It's about what I've lost. What I could've been."
"Then make sure your children get there. That's your comeback."
She nodded slowly. That was true. Her kids. Her bright, brave kids. Ella with her sharp tongue and stubborn fire. Dara with her mischief. Dayo and his dramatic love for cartoons. Dimeji with his head in books.
They were her comeback.
She smiled, finally. Not because everything was okay. But because she knew she'd keep trying.
With or without him.