"Sometimes, no matter how deeply someone hurts you, you still find yourself loving them. I call that divine love."
— Bella Angel Douglas
Sofia's POV.
I always prayed for them.
And for myself.
But the question still lingers within me…
Can I truly forgive them?
Despite everything, I thank God every day for blessing me with my mother's graceful figure. I have curves in all the right places — a striking contrast to my height. My mother possessed a breathtaking hourglass shape, with serene ocean-blue eyes, while my father's eyes were a deep, commanding black.
I inherited both.
Doctors labeled it an eye pigmentation disorder.
I call it a masterpiece.
My left eye mirrors my mother's calm ocean blue.
My right eye carries my father's intense dark gaze.
An extraordinary fusion. Rare. Unforgettable.
My complexion is a rich chocolate brown, radiant against my long black hair — another inheritance from my mother, who is Americo-Liberian. My grandfather was American, and my grandmother Liberian, creating a lineage of blended history and elegance.
My mother's hair once cascaded down to her waist. I remember how it used to comfort me when I was little. I would run my tiny fingers through it, feeling safe.
My own hair grows excessively long. If left uncut, it would sweep the ground because of my height.
At the orphanage, it did.
It extended past my ankles, thick and dark like midnight silk.
One day, some girls mixed red dye into my conditioner without my knowledge. When I washed my hair, it transformed into a fiery shade. They mocked me for weeks, calling me "The Little Mermaid," their laughter echoing through the halls. The ridicule intensified until Reverend Sister Agnes intervened and restored my natural color.
Even now, the memory stings — not because of the dye, but because of the cruelty.
When I left for college in Singapore, I cut my hair to waist length. It symbolized a new beginning.
In Singapore, I pursued Business Management and Architecture, earning both my Bachelor of Science and Master's degrees with distinction.
For twenty-three years, I have never dated.
Who would willingly choose a woman as short as I am?
When my parents abandoned me, I constantly asked God, Why me? Why was I born this way? Why did my existence bring humiliation upon my family?
There were nights I cried myself to sleep, pleading with God to take my life.
But that was never His intention.
Through reading the Holy Bible, I came to understand that everything unfolds for a reason. God knew me before I was formed in my mother's womb. He knows my thoughts before I speak them. He promised never to give us burdens we are incapable of carrying.
I also read about Christy Brown from Ireland, who wrote My Left Foot and painted using his only functional limb. His resilience inspired me profoundly. His life taught me that physical limitations do not define destiny.
Being vertically challenged is not the conclusion of my story.
My parents may have abandoned me.
But God never did.
Despite adversity, I graduated top of my class in high school and again in university. I do not say this arrogantly — I say it with conviction:
I am exceptionally intelligent.
If God reduced my height, He compensated with brilliance.
Today, I stand — not physically tall — but professionally elevated.
I own the largest chocolate manufacturing company in Liberia and the second largest in West Africa. My architectural firm is recognized as one of the finest in Liberia and across parts of Africa.
Every month, I donate generously to homes for the disabled.
I am now a multi-millionaire.
Yet, I remain devoted to my faith. I attend Mass daily and pray the Rosary three times each day. Without God, I would be nothing.
Still… success does not erase longing.
Every day, I pray to see my parents and brothers again. Questions burn within me — questions that demand answers.
I want them to witness what the rejected stone has become.
My eldest brother, Ethan, should now be twenty-nine.
My other brother, Stanzas, is twenty-five.
What do they look like now?
Are they successfully managing Parker's Paint Company?
Are they married?
Do they have children?
Do they ever think of me?
You may think I am foolish. This is the 21st century. I could easily search for them online.
But I refuse.
I cannot bring myself to type their names into a search engine. I cannot risk reopening wounds that took years to close.
Yes, I love them. I truly do.
But as Titanina Maisosis once said, "Love yourself first."
Returning without emotional preparation could shatter the stability I fought to build. I cannot jeopardize my peace for nostalgia.
A sudden knock at my office door interrupted my thoughts.
"Come in," I said, straightening in my chair.
My secretary, Saydai, entered gracefully. She looked stunning in a tailored yellow pencil skirt paired with a fitted turtleneck blouse of the same shade. A soft pink long-sleeved coat draped elegantly over her shoulders, complemented by white ankle-length heeled boots — a perfect ensemble for the chilly weather.
When we first met in Singapore, I was captivated by her beauty. I used to secretly wish I looked like her.
But growth changes perspective.
I have learned that I am beautiful.
Unique.
Exceptional.
Exactly as I was created.
"Good morning, Miss Parker," Saydai greeted warmly.
And just like that, reality reclaimed me from memory.
Author's Note
The name Saydai is a traditional Liberian name.
I pronounce it as Say- e-di.
I read about someone with this name when I was in kindergarten. It was a beautiful book.
A girl who was determined to break traditions and fight for her right to education as a girl child.
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With immense love,
Bella 💝