CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
D.A.M
“Hey!” Marcus spoke to me for the first time since I stormed out of Dr. Berot’s office. Ever since he entered the car and started our journey back to his place, I had been dreading that he would ask me about the session, but luckily enough, he didn't. But I guess I was wrong.
I looked at him and then away from him, hoping that would signal to him that I didn’t want to talk about it. Then, I realized that we were not at his place.
Where are we?
I looked around and then a familiar terrace with black wrought-iron chairs and small tables caught my sight. I would recognize those string lights at the door that usually glow like tiny stars in the night. As usual, the flower boxes by the railings were filled with lavenders and roses. I know this place.
Madam Black’s restaurant!
I tilted my head with a scowl at Marcus. “What are we doing here?”
“You were brave today.”
“That is not the answer to my question.”
“You really love her soup and I….”
“If you think some pepper soup is going to make me tell you what happened in that office, think again,” I cut in sharply.
“I don’t need you to tell me anything, I know,” he retorted and looked away.
“What?”
“I asked the doctor.”
“Excuse me! Where the fuck is my privacy? I thought she was bound by doctor-patient confidentiality laws.”
“Don’t go gaga yet, she just told me that you were brave and you were making progress,” he explained to me.
“I told her to go fuck herself, how is that progress?”
“You told her to go fuck herself?” he questioned, and I raised an eyebrow at him. He sighed lightly. “Today is just the first day and you stormed out of her office, that must mean whatever she is doing with you struck a chord.”
“If you know that, then you know I am in no mood for…” I waved my hands around. “Whatever this is.”
“You have always loved Madam Black’s soup.” He opened the door. “I am hoping it would improve your mood.”
“Come on,” he said and got out of the car without giving me a chance to refuse. With a sigh and no other choice, I got out of the car and walked up to the restaurant.
The bell at the door gave a loud chime when I opened it, and it hit me instantly. The sharp heat of fresh peppers slightly tickled my nose and made my eyes water. Beneath that came the earthy aroma of spices, which contained cloves, calabash nutmeg, and scent leaves. There was also the rich, savory scent of fish broth, warm and hearty.
The aroma seemed to wrap around me like a blanket and, from a long distance, I heard it,
Loud and clear
“And I think to myself, what a wonderful world,” I sang along, gently swaying as I coated the wall of my nursery with cream paint. Suddenly, I smelled pepper, herbs, and simmered fish in the air. The aroma was so rich and inviting that it made my stomach growl. I dropped the paint stick I was holding and hurried toward the door. When it opened and Kylian came in with a food tray.
He opened his mouth in surprise. “What have you done?” he questioned as he dropped the food tray on the nearest table to him. I ignored his question and hurried to the food tray, which contained a plate of hot pepper soup.
“I leave you for an hour and you are doing my job,” he complained as he walked to the wall to inspect what I was doing.
I scooped some fish and pepper soup with a spoon and put it in my mouth. I sighed with pleasure as my tongue blazed. Heat spread through my mouth and slid down my throat like liquid fire, bringing tears to my eyes and sweat to my brow. Yet beneath the burn was a deep, comforting warmth that wrapped around me from the inside out, making every spicy sip irresistible. I gently caressed my seven-month belly as I savored the taste.
“Extra spicy, just how I like it,” I said.
“I don’t want you stressing yourself,” he instructed.
“It is not stress,” I replied as I took another spoonful. “And if I keep waiting for you to come down from Madrid every week to paint, it won’t get done on time.”
“We still have about 2 months to go, we have time.”
“Not according to what Beatrice said this morning with her talk of hospital bed rest,” I retorted, with a deep ache settling in my chest.
“Hey!” He moved toward me and held me gently. “No pessimist talk here, be optimistic.”
He placed his hand on my belly, his touch warm and careful, as though he was already protecting the tiny life growing inside me. Somehow, it worked. The tight knot in my chest loosened, and before I knew it, I was nodding.
“You and our baby are going to be fine,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’ll protect you.” I looked into those brown eyes I hoped my baby would inherit, and something inside me fluttered. At that exact moment, Every Breath You Take by The Police was playing.
Every single day
And every word you say
Every game you play
Every night you stay
I'll be watching you
Oh, can't you see
You belong to me….
The song speaks of obsession and control, but looking at Kylian, hearing the quiet conviction in his voice and feeling his hand resting protectively over our baby, the lyrics seemed to take on a different meaning entirely.
Protection.
Devotion.
Love.
I felt safe.
The fear that had been clawing at me retreated, replaced by something warm and dizzying. My heart skipped, then melted completely. There was something incredibly intimate about a man looking at you as though he'd fight the entire world just to keep you and your child safe.
“Some pepper soup?” I asked, and he withdrew instantly.
“I can barely take normal spicy food, I think I would die with extra spicy.”
“Come on, don’t be a baby.” I tried to force-feed him, but he moved swiftly away from me. “You are seriously going to make me eat this alone?”
“I love you, Bewaji, you know that and I would do anything for you,” he uttered without knowing that what he said was erupting butterflies in my stomach. “But not this,” he informed me with a smile.
“Fine, your loss,” I said and went back to my pepper soup.
“What is this?” he asked me, and I turned to him. He held up a book which I had placed earlier on the paint table next to the wall. I smiled at him instead.
“You finally chose a middle name,” he said, and I nodded.
“Aammui.” He tried to pronounce the name, but it sounded off to me.
“Please, please, don’t spoil my baby’s name,” I shouted, dropping the spoon in my hand into the bowl and striding to him. I collected the book from him.
“Okay, how do I say it?”
“Amioluwa,” I said gently. “Amioluwa, it means the mark of God.”
“Amioluwa,” he called it again, and I nodded, satisfied this time around. “So, David Amioluwa Mbappe.”
“Or Davina Amioluwa Mbappe,” I announced.
"D.A.M. for short"
"Yeah" I nodded as I never thought of that "DAM for short" I confirmed with a bright smile
“I love it.” He chuckled loudly, and I was kicked in the belly. I caressed my belly as though that would make her stop.
“I think she agrees, I am being kicked.”
“She?”
I smiled brightly and added, “I don’t know, but I feel she is going to be a girl.” I looked at my belly. He nodded and gently placed both of his hands on my belly. He looked down and said, “I can’t wait to meet you, Davina Amioluwa Mbappe.”
As if on cue, she kicked again.
“Oh my God!” I exclaimed, my eyes widening. Kylian laughed softly and pressed a kiss to my belly. The tone of the background music changed and my face lit up instantly.
“It is our song!”
“Ahhh!” he groaned. “It is not our song, it is yours.” He was right about that. He is a Drake person, but Drake is not allowed in this house.
“Will you ever let me play my own songs?” he complained but I ignored him and started swaying from side to side as the soulful ballad, I'll Be There by the Jackson 5, filled the air.
“You and I must make a pact, we must bring salvation back, where there is love, I'll be there.” I sang along, moving closer to him until our bodies were almost touching.
“Come on, sing with me.” And to my surprise, he did.
“I'll reach out my hand to you, I'll have faith in all you do, just call my name.” He sang
“Kylian,” I called him softly, and a smile spread across his face.
“And I'll be there” he responded.
He stretched his hand to me and I took it. He twirled me around and a loud, carefree giggle escaped. The music played on and we continued dancing. Nothing else mattered at that moment because I was in the arms of the man I loved with all of my heart.
And oh, I'll be there to comfort you
Build my world of dreams around you
I'm so glad that I found you
I'll be there with a love that's strong
I'll be your strength
I'll keep holding on
Yes I will, yes I will
There was no fear.
No uncertainty.
Just this.
His arms around me with our baby kicking happily inside me. I looked up at him, and my heart felt so full it almost hurt. If happiness had a shape, it would look exactly like this moment. Nothing else mattered. Not when I was wrapped in the arms of the man I loved with every piece of my heart, dancing in our living room while our baby moved between us, as if she already knew she was loved.
“BEWAJI!” A hand shook me hard and—
The music stopped.
The warmth disappeared.
And in the blink of an eye, Kylian was gone and Marcus stood where he had been. I stared at him.
No.
No, no, no.
My eyes darted around the room desperately, searching for his brown eyes, for a teasing smile, for the warmth of his hands on my waist.
Nothing.
Just Marcus.
Reality crashed into me with the force of a tidal wave. My chest caved in. It felt like someone had reached inside me, ripped my heart out, and squeezed. The ache was immediate and familiar.
I knew this feeling.
I hated this feeling.
Because it meant I had lost her again.
A sharp, broken sound escaped my throat. I looked down at my flat belly, half expecting to still find my swollen belly, but there was nothing. My lungs burned as tears sprang to my eyes.
I wanted to scream.
“I can’t do this.” I shook my head and went back out. Marcus followed me out.
“Bewaji, it is just pepper soup!” he shouted.
I turned on my heels instantly and yelped, “It is not just pepper soup, Marcus!”
“Bewaji!”
“No!” I snapped, the word breaking apart as it left my lips. “You always act like you know everything about me, but you don’t.”
Tears blurred my vision.
“The last time I had pepper soup, my life was perfect. I had my husband, I had my home, I had my voice, and my baby was growing inside me.” I pressed a hand against my chest as if I could somehow stop the pain splitting me open. “I was painting her nursery, I had just picked a name for her, she was with me, and now…”
The tears came faster now, hot and relentless.
“I lost my husband, I lost my baby, I lost the woman I used to be, and I can’t even go back to my house because of the very same reason I don’t want Madam Black’s pepper soup. It is just a reminder of everything I have lost and I am never getting back again. So, no, Marcus, it is not just pepper soup.” I cried, and with that, I turned and walked back to the car, crying so hard I could barely see.
TO BE CONTINUED ON NEXT SATURDAY, 9.00PM WAT.
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