CHAPTER NINETY SEVEN
3% to 8%
I sat upright
with my two hands fused together as my mind began reaching for evidence,
pulling memories from years ago and turning them over one after another. My
career. My plans. The decisions I had made. The things I had wanted. I tried to
arrange them into some neat sequence that would prove her wrong, but everything
felt strangely blurred.
I knew what I
had wanted.
A heaviness
settled behind my eyes. My thoughts moved sluggishly, as though I were trying
to think through thick fog. Every time I reached for an answer, another memory
surfaced, and suddenly I could no longer tell whether I had chosen something
because I genuinely wanted it or because, somewhere in the back of my mind, I
had already made room for him in the life I imagined.
I swallowed
hard.
"That's
not true," I whispered, though even to my own ears, it sounded more like a
plea than a certainty.
“Bewaji…” Dr.
Berot called me.
“I don’t
accept,” I blurted out. “There is no way I made plans surrounding Kylian. There
is just no way I had done that.”
“Okay,” she
agreed, to my surprise. “Do you want to stop, think about what this means, and
continue another time?”
“And spend
another two weeks in agony? No, please, thank you,” I disagreed strongly.
“Alright
then, tell me why you attacked Kylian’s billboard and those people two years
ago?”
“What does
that have to do with me losing time or fixing my inner voice?” I questioned her,
really not impressed with her line of questioning.
“Remember
what I said about your mind being like a knot and that we need to slowly unknot
every knot for you to be okay again?”
With no other
choice, I relaxed back in the chair. “I found out that my fantasy about Kylian
was wrong and that he was not who I thought he was.”
“Go on,” she
urged me.
“I had this
image of what my marriage was supposed to be in my head.” I smiled despite my
sour mood. “A man who loves me unconditionally, and I, in return, love him
equally. We get to build something together and have kids that we will love and
do anything for… but that was shattered when his mother came at me with some
documents to sign and some rules I had to follow.”
“That didn’t
go well with you,” she pointed out.
“Of course,
it didn’t go well with me. If you were in my shoes, would it go well with you?”
I asked her, my voice slightly raised, the frustration I had been holding back
finally slipping through. “My marriage was supposed to be my safe haven, but they
turned it into a business arrangement. So, I had to do whatever it took to take
back control.”
“That was why
you did what you did.”
“No, that was me lashing out.” I swallowed, my anger giving way to something more painful. I looked down for a moment, trying to gather my thoughts before meeting her eyes again.
“It was my life, and they held the key to it and were trying to decide
what happened to me. That pissed me off. Taking back control meant finding
myself some leverage and charging them five times what they originally wanted
to pay me. Kylian made it a business arrangement, and I made sure he paid
dearly for it.”
She furrowed
her brow. “I don’t understand you.”
“I was given
a way out of the marriage, an annulment, and the logical thing was to take it,
but I couldn’t imagine my life without Kylian.” I looked down and sighed
heavily. The admission felt humiliating now.
“I guess you
are right.” I turned my attention back to her. “I planned my life around
Kylian. How pathetic.” I gave a small, bitter laugh.
“No, you are
not pathetic. You had a dream like any person, and you worked toward achieving
it. That does not make you pathetic.” Her voice was gentle but firm. A small
smile tugged at my lips.
“You said you
made him pay dearly. What do you mean?” she continued.
“They were
going to force me to leave, but I couldn’t allow it, so I got myself some
leverage and presented my own conditions to them. Some they agreed to while
some they didn’t, but I got a little bit of control back in my life.”
“How was
settling down for you?” she inquired as she jotted something down in her pad.
“It was hard,
but Kylian got me a house.” I rubbed the back of my neck, remembering those
first few weeks. “A big, beautiful house. I loved that house, and I also got
this loving family that worked for me. They filled that gigantic, empty house
with so much warmth that, eventually, it started to feel like home.”
She watched
me quietly.
“And once a
month, Kylian would come to see me for sex.”
“Once a
month?” she queried.
“He was not
going to come. I was supposed to be impregnated through IVF. Once-a-month sex
was one of the conditions I fought for.” I shrugged.
She stared at
me for a moment, her expression difficult to read. I looked away when I
couldn’t take it any longer.
“It sounds
ridiculous when I say it out loud,” I admitted quietly. “I had to negotiate for
my own husband to sleep with me.”
“How did you
cope with that?”
“It was hard,
very difficult.” I swallowed, remembering how lonely that life had felt. “And I
hated every single moment of it, but I got used to it. It was a normal life
until I met Marcus, and then my normal life was no longer enough.”
“How did
meeting Marcus change that for you?”
“Marcus loved
me romantically, and I realized that when a man loves you and wants you, he
would move mountains to be with you. He made me realize my worth, and then
slowly, the normal life I had with Kylian was no longer enough. I was going to
divorce him, but suddenly, he changed.”
“For worse?”
“No.” I shook my head gently. “He became more than the man I fantasized about. He loved me, and I felt his love. He moved mountains for my happiness.” I felt my voice soften. “He was it. He was the one.”
“So, you got
your happy ending.”
“Yes, we were
happy.” A genuine smile appeared on my face. “Months later, we were expecting
our first child until we were not.” I let out the words in a low voice, and my
smile slowly disappeared.
“You said
something was not right about your marriage.”
“Yeah.” I
shifted in my seat. “There was this young woman I met. I was going through a
difficult phase of my marriage when I met her, and coincidentally, she was a
good friend of Kylian. She just came in like an angel. She became my friend and
held me up. She was filled with good, positive vibes, which turned negative
when Kylian committed to me.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t
know why, and I tried to ignore it. I really tried, but I could not. I suffered
preeclampsia throughout my pregnancy. When I was eight months pregnant, my
health turned dire, and I was instructed to check myself into the hospital. But
instead of going to the hospital like I was instructed, I decided to go find
the truth.”
“And what did
you find out?”
“She was
Kylian’s girlfriend.”
Her eyebrows
lifted. “His girlfriend?”
I shook my
head slowly, still struggling with the memory.
“Ex. But all
that time, I thought she was an angel. I thought she had come into my life
because she genuinely cared about me. I trusted her. I let her see parts of me
that I didn't show just anyone. I told her things about my marriage, my fears,
my insecurities…” My voice faltered.
“And all that
time, she had been with Kylian.” I rubbed my palms against my thighs. “That
day, she wasn't the woman I knew anymore. The warmth was gone. The kindness was
gone. She looked at me like I was something she despised.” I closed my eyes
briefly, and the memory came rushing back with such force that my chest
tightened.
“She told me
the truth.” My fingers trembled slightly. The words felt just as painful now as
they had then. “Kylian was working on a project that required citizenship. He
needed a green card, and apparently, marrying me was the easiest way to get
it.”
“Could she be
lying?”
“No.” The
answer came immediately. “Because Kylian was right there, and he didn’t deny
any of her claims. He was….” I paused, struggling to breathe past the lump in
my throat. “He was just apologizing.”
“How did that
make you feel?”
“Do you have
to ask? I felt humiliated. Betrayed. Stupid.” My voice cracked. “I felt like
my entire life had been a lie, and I was the only idiot who hadn't known it.” I
pressed my fingers against my temple.
Silence
settled between us before she asked quietly,
“Was that
when you lost your baby?”
“No.” I shook
my head slowly. “I held myself together.” My fingers tightened around each
other.
“I had to. I
was carrying my baby, and no matter how shattered I felt, I couldn't let myself
fall apart. I kept telling myself that my baby needed me to be strong. So I
swallowed the pain. I cried when I was alone, wiped my tears, and pretended I
was okay.” I looked down, my voice becoming quieter.
“I thought
that was the worst thing that could happen to me.” I gave a faint, bitter
smile. “But I was very wrong.”
“What
happened?”
“When I got
home, I walked into a conversation that I shouldn’t have walked into. The
loving family I thought loved me were actually Kylian’s ex-girlfriend’s family
and were actually spies for her.” My eyes filled with tears.
“These were the people I had trusted. People I had eaten with, laughed with, confided in. They had been there when I was lonely. They had made that huge, empty house feel like a home.” My voice broke. “And all that time, I lived among wolves.” I wiped beneath my eye.
“It went
sideways from there?”
“I didn’t
expect it. I was unguarded. I thought the worst was over, only to find out that
they were not who I thought they were. The betrayal was sudden and
heartbreaking. The next thing I knew, there was blood everywhere, and I woke in
the hospital a week later with no baby.” My lips trembled as I looked down at
my hands.
There was
silence, and for a long moment, neither of us spoke. Dr. Berot eventually set
her pen down and looked at me.
“So, from
what you have told me, what was your fault in all that has happened?”
“I should
have gone to the hospital.”
“Yes, you should have.” Her answer was calm, without judgment. “But you said you pulled yourself together and got home safely. So choosing to go investigate something that was hurting you is not what caused your baby’s death, that is not on you.”
I shook my
head.
“Then, I
shouldn’t have gone through the back door.”
She blinked.
“Why?”
“Because if I
had used the front door, maybe none of it would have happened.”
“It is your house. You can choose to go through any door; it is your right. You didn't do anything wrong by walking through the back door.” I looked away.
“I should have
taken better care of myself.”
“Statistically,
3% to 8% of women have preeclampsia during pregnancy. Preeclampsia is a
pregnancy complication that affects a significant number of women, and the risk
is higher among Black women. None of that means you caused it. That is not your
fault.”
“I should
have rested better.”
“You said you were diagnosed with preeclampsia from the onset of your pregnancy. I will assume bed rest was prescribed.” I nodded.
“Did you take the rest?” I nodded again, and this time, she held my gaze. “Then you did what you were supposed to do.”
“I should
have prayed harder.”
She was quiet
for a moment.
“I am not a
Bible person, but I heard the story of David, who was God’s favourite in his time. He
prayed and fasted for seven days for his sick son, and his prayers were not
answered. I don’t know your relationship with God, but I know you would have prayed as hard as David did.”
“I should
have seen through Frances’ lies.”
“You were in
a strange city where you barely knew anyone. You were isolated, vulnerable, and
desperately needed someone to lean on. Frances came into your life at exactly
the moment you needed a friend, and she gave you that friendship.” She shook
her head gently.
“Her
deception was her choice. You trusting someone who presented herself as your
friend was not a moral failure on your part.”
I closed my
eyes. “I should have let Kylian go when I had the chance.”
“You were in
love. Being in love is not a sin.” She placed the notepad she had been holding
on the table and moved closer. Then she sat on the edge of the table in front
of me.
“And if you
had left him, you wouldn’t have gotten to experience the love you had for your
daughter.”
My eyes
opened.
“I know she
was with you for such a short time,” she continued, “but the love between you
was real. The fact that her life was brief does not make that love any less
real. You were her mother and she was your daughter. You loved her, and she loved
you in the only way a baby can.”
She reached
for my hands and gently held them between hers, slowly rubbing the backs of my
hands with her thumbs.
“That love
happened, Bewaji. No one can take that away from you.” My lower lip trembled.
“Your baby's death was not your fault.”
“No.” I shook
my head. “No, no, no…”
“It was not
your fault.”
“No…”
“You did not cause this." I pulled my hands slightly, but she held them gently.
“You did
everything you knew to do. You followed your doctors' instructions. You rested.
You tried to protect your baby. You survived things no woman should have had to
survive.”
My breathing
became uneven.
“But—”
“No.” Her voice remained soft, but there was firmness beneath it. “Stop looking for a reason to punish yourself.” I stared at her through my tears.
“You are not responsible for everything that happened to you.” I shook my head, unable to accept it. “And I am happy to inform you that you are not depressed.”
I studied her
for a moment.
“What?”
“No. Not in
the way you seem to believe.” I blinked. “If you hadn't sought help, if you had
continued to isolate yourself, refused to talk about what happened, and allowed
the pain to consume you, then yes, I would be concerned about depression.” She
squeezed my hands. “But that's not what I'm seeing right now.”
“Then why am
I feeling like this?”
“It is called
grief. You are grieving.” The word hung between us. “Deeply. Intensely. And
because of everything surrounding your daughter's death... the betrayal, the
trauma, the guilt, the circumstances of the loss, your grief has become
complicated.”
I stared at
her.
“The
professional term is complicated grief. And you need to learn how to grieve
properly.”
My brows
pulled together. “Properly?”
“Yes.” Her
thumb brushed gently across my knuckles. “Not by blaming yourself. Not by
rewriting every decision you made and convincing yourself that one different
choice would have saved your daughter.” She shook her head.
“You cannot heal from grief while you are constantly putting yourself on trial.” She leaned closer.
“You need to
mourn her. You need to miss her. You need to talk about her. You need to
remember her. You need to allow yourself to love her without turning that love
into punishment.”
I lowered my
head as the tears finally began to fall freely.
“I’m so sorry for your losses, Bewaji. But sometimes terrible things happen to people who did everything they could to prevent them.”
I placed my face in between my two hands
"I will love to stop today's session here." She said and I looked up at her " We unpacked a lot today and I will love for you to sit with it."
Marcus stood
up the moment he saw me walk out of Dr. Berot’s office and he walked up to me. The
concern on his face was immediate.
“Hey, are you
okay?” His voice softened.
“No, I’m
not.” I shook my head. “I want to walk. I need fresh air,” I said quietly and
walked toward the exit, pushing through the doors and stepping outside into the
cool air.
TO BE CONTINUED ON NEXT SATURDAY, 9.00PM WAT.
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