By the time they reached home, the evening air was cool and quiet. At the doorway, they lingered for a moment, sharing a long, tender embrace as if silently promising each other that this was the beginning of something new. After freshening up, they settled in the living room, sitting face to face. The air between them carried a quiet excitement, the kind that comes when hearts are ready to speak of dreams. For the first time, it wasn't about the past she had lost or the uncertainties they carried, it was about the future they were ready to build together.
He let out a deep sigh before speaking, his voice low and weighted with memories.
"During my childhood, I lived in a house where my father constantly beat my mother. It was a cruel sight, watching her suffer for the smallest mistakes. My sister and I made a promise back then: never to get married. We were terrified that we might become like him… that we might carry his darkness. Eventually, we left that toxic home. My mother encouraged us, though it broke her heart. A few months after we traveled, I got a call from her, my father was dead. Deep down, I was relieved. We didn't return for the burial. My sister later married, but her marriage ended in separation. To me, that felt like a sign, a warning, that our vow had been right. I buried myself in that decision, that marriage wasn't for me. But then, I met you and everything shifted. You've changed me in ways I never thought possible. Now I find myself wanting a life I once feared. I only pray I don't ever turn into the man my father was."
When his words faded, the room grew impossibly quiet. The weight of his confession hung between them, heavy but fragile, like glass that might shatter if touched too soon. She sat still, her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes fixed on him. Her heart ached for the boy he once was, the one who had watched his mother suffer, the one who had carried that fear into manhood. He didn't look at her right away. His gaze was lost somewhere in the shadows of the room, as though he were bracing himself for rejection. The silence stretched, not cold, but thick with unspoken emotion. She drew a slow breath, steadying herself, knowing that when she finally spoke, her words would have to matter. At last, she reached across the small space between them, her fingers brushing against his hand before holding it firmly. He finally turned to her, and she met his eyes with quiet strength.
"You are not your father," she said softly but with certainty. "The very fact that you carry this fear, that you've held on to this vow because you never wanted to hurt anyone, that alone proves you are different." Her voice trembled slightly as she went on, "You gave me a home when I had nothing. You cared for me when I couldn't even remember who I was. That is love, that is kindness and that is who you are."
His eyes searched hers, vulnerable and unsure, but in her steady gaze he saw no doubt, only truth. She tightened her grip on his hand, whispering, "If we choose this life together, we'll build it with love, not fear. I believe in you. I believe in us."
For a moment, neither spoke again. But this time, the silence was no longer heavy, it was healing. He went on to tell her about his plans to take her along when he travels abroad. He also assured her that she would be in the hands of the best doctors abroad, who would help her recover her memory.
The days that followed were filled with excitement. Together, they began making preparations for their wedding, choosing fabrics, writing guest lists, and visiting places that would hold the ceremony and celebration. The air buzzed with joy, and for the first time, she felt herself completely swept into a world of new beginnings. Yet every so often, as she handled a bridal cloth or discussed decorations, a strange familiarity tugged at her. It was fleeting, like a shadow slipping past the edge of her mind. She would pause, thinking, I have done this before but just as quickly, she brushed it aside. There was too much to focus on. Too much happiness to embrace than to dwell on the fragments of a forgotten past. Her mother-in-law proved to be a pillar of support, guiding her with warmth and wisdom. She accompanied her to the market, shared advice on traditions, and even teased her gently about the life awaiting her as a wife. For the first time, she felt what it was like to have a mother by her side, something she didn't know she had missed until now. Though her past still lingered in silence, her present was filled with love, laughter, and the promise of a future she was ready to claim.
One evening, after a long day of moving through markets and meeting with tailors, they returned home exhausted but content. She sank into the couch, her hands resting on her lap, her mind still turning. He came to sit beside her, slipping off his shoes with a sigh.
"You've been quiet," he noticed, glancing at her. "Is something wrong?"
She hesitated, chewing lightly on her bottom lip before speaking. "It's nothing serious… just something I feel."
He straightened, concern flickering across his face, "Tell me."
She met his gaze, her voice soft but uncertain. "Sometimes, when we're planning for the wedding… it feels like I've done this before, like I've walked this path already. The way I knew exactly how to fold that fabric today, or the ease I felt choosing decorations. It didn't feel new, it felt remembered."
He was silent for a moment, studying her carefully. She rushed on, shaking her head. " I don't want you to think I'm clinging to it. I know my past is gone, and I'm not trying to chase it. I just thought you should know."
Slowly, he reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. "Thank you for telling me," he said gently, "Maybe it's your mind trying to give you pieces back. Or maybe… it's just you being naturally good at this. Either way, it doesn't change how I feel about us. You're here with me now, and that's what matters most."
Her lips curved into a small smile, relief easing the tension in her chest. "I needed to hear that."
He squeezed her hand reassuringly, and together they let the quiet settle between them, a silence no longer heavy, but safe.
Far away, her family was restless, torn apart by her absence. They searched frantically, clinging to the hope that she was alive somewhere, waiting to be found. Every day without her felt like an endless ache, their home heavy with silence where her laughter used to be.
Yet, while they struggled, she was living in a different world, one she had come to embrace as her own. Surrounded by love, by the promise of a new beginning, she had little reason to look back. The shadows of her past remained hidden, even as her family's desperate prayers reached into the void where her memory should have been.
The day of the wedding arrived with the sun shining brightly, as if the heavens themselves had opened in blessing. Music drifted through the air, laughter spilled across the compound, and colorful fabrics danced in the breeze. She stood before the mirror, dressed in her bridal attire, her heart racing with a mix of nerves and joy.
Her mother-in-law hovered nearby, adjusting the veil with practiced hands. "You look beautiful, my daughter," she whispered, her eyes glistening with pride.
When the time came, she walked out to where he was waiting, his face lit with a smile that seemed to hold both relief and promise. As their eyes met, the crowd around them faded, leaving only the two of them standing there, two souls who had chosen to bind their futures together. Vows were spoken, rings exchanged, prayers lifted. The cheers of family and friends wrapped around them as he took her hand in his, sealing their union. In that moment, the missing pieces of her past didn't matter. She had found love, a home, and a future worth holding on to. And though somewhere beyond that joy her family still searched for her, her world was here; by his side, stepping into a new life as his wife.
Two months after the wedding, they boarded a plane—hand in hand—toward a new beginning abroad. The world beyond the window stretched endlessly, clouds rolling like waves beneath them. She leaned against him, her heart both nervous and excited. For the first time, she was leaving behind the land that had unknowingly held both her past and her healing. When they arrived, everything felt new; the tall buildings, the rushing pace of the streets, the strange accents of voices around them. Yet she felt no fear, because his hand was still firmly wrapped around hers. Her life had become a story she never imagined; a story not of what she had lost, but of what she had found.
Life abroad was different, louder, faster, full of things she had never seen before. At first, she felt like a child learning to walk again. The streets bustled with strangers who hurried past without a second glance, the supermarkets overflowed with items she couldn't yet name, and the cold weather bit her skin in ways she had never known.
But slowly, she adapted. With his guidance, she learned the routes to the market, how to greet the neighbors, and how to cook with new ingredients that made him smile with pride. She practiced speaking, fumbling over words until they began to sound natural on her tongue. Each little success felt like a victory. In the evenings, she would sit by the window, watching the city lights glow like stars scattered across the earth. He would come beside her, drape an arm over her shoulder, and together they would talk on dreams about work, about building a family, about making this new land truly theirs. Her days of uncertainty slowly turned into days of belonging. This world, once foreign and strange, began to feel like home because she was building it with him.
Their love only grew stronger with each passing day. Every little gesture deepened the bond they shared.
One evening, as they cleared the dinner table together, he broke the silence with a thoughtful smile.
"There's something I need to tell you," he said, drying his hands.
She looked up, curious. "What is it?"
"My sister will be visiting us soon," he explained. "She's been eager to meet you. Ever since I told her about our wedding, she's wanted to see for herself the woman who's made me so happy."
Her heart skipped. Her thoughts began to wonder, she begin to question herself whether she will be loved by her. But she quickly brushed it aside, forcing a small smile.
"I'd love to meet her," she replied softly.
He reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. "Don't worry. She'll adore you, just like I do."
She nodded, trying to focus on his reassurance.
The next day arrived, and with it came his sister. She swept into their apartment with a presence that filled the room, warm smiles at first, but eyes that studied everything too carefully. When she turned to Amoke, her gaze lingered longer than it should have.
"This is my wife," he said proudly, his hand resting on Amoke's shoulder.
His sister forced a smile, but Amoke caught the flicker of shock in her eyes. It was brief, but sharp enough to sting. She understood immediately. Her presence, her face, perhaps even her silence had unsettled her. Still, her husband dismissed it with a laugh, as if his sister's reaction meant nothing.
But then the truth slipped out. A careless comment, a sharp question, and finally, the bombshell. Words that unveiled fragments of Amoke's past, pieces she herself had not fully recovered. The room fell heavy. Amoke's heart pounded in her chest, shame and confusion mixing like poison. His sister didn't hide her disgust. She sat stiff, her voice cold, her expressions sharper with every word. Amoke swallowed hard, fighting the tremor in her hands. She smiled, served food, and played the perfect hostess. On the outside, she was calm. But inside, she was breaking. She knew, deep down, no matter how much she tried, she and his sister would never be on good terms. And yet for his sake, for the love they had built she continued. Pleasing her, bending where she could, swallowing every bitter glance because losing him was a pain she could not bear. All through her stay in her brother's house, she constantly found fault in everything Amoke did. Though her brother often rebuked her, she refused to change. Eventually, her unyielding attitude led to her being sent away. Now, one might wonder why she behaved like that towards Amoke. Was it simply jealousy, or was there more to the story than meet the eye?