CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE
Selfish
The trees swayed gently in the morning breeze, their leaves rustling against one another as sunlight filtered through the branches into the room while I packed up my baby’s stuff. Somewhere in the distance, birds sang as though nothing in the world had ever been lost. I thought accepting my baby’s death as fate and letting go would make saying goodbye to the future I had envisioned with her easier, but I was deeply mistaken.
Sometimes I stopped to cry while packing. Sometimes I held something for longer than I intended, unable to make myself put it down. Once, when I found a tiny pair of shoes, I sank into the rocking chair and wept until I could breathe again. But I returned to the task, and soon her room was bare.
I stared at her folded clothes in one box and her toys and little books in another, the ones I had bought to read to her. Fresh tears welled in my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. I wiped them away quickly before turning towards the crib.
I clasped my trembling hands together, hoping to steady myself, then let out a heavy sigh and walked over to it. Standing beside it, I ran my palm along the wooden rail, remembering the joy I had felt when it was first assembled. Back then, I had looked at it with so much excitement, imagining all the precious moments she would spend in it. Now, I had to take it apart.
I got to work with the screwdriver Kylian had left in one of the drawers, determined to finish what I had started. But barely a few minutes into it, I realised how arrogant I had been to think I could dismantle her crib as easily as I had packed away her clothes and toys. I hadn't even been the one who assembled it in the first place.
Kylian built it.
Then, I suddenly realised that Kylian and I had created this nursery in our image. Everything in this room had been chosen together. We could have contracted someone to do it for us, but we wanted to do it together. It took us months of hard work and arguments when we disagreed on a choice and neither of us was willing to compromise. Back then, I always thought it was cheesy for a man to be that invested in the colour of a baby's socks. Every chance he got, Kylian would travel all the way from Madrid to Paris, and on days when he couldn’t make it, he would voice his opinions strongly through video calls.
It was always frustrating and annoying.
Where I came from, most men were content to provide the money and go about their business, but Kylian wanted to be involved in every item we got for the baby. He would throw a tantrum when things didn't go his way, argue his case, and refuse to back down until we had either reached a compromise.
After you, no one else looked forward to Ami’s arrival as much as Kylian did.
The thought floated in before I could stop it.
He must be hurting.
Stop it.
What? I am just saying he must be drowning in his grief too. I mean, she didn’t belong to you alone. She was his daughter too.
I tightened my grip on the screwdriver.
And I said stop it. He did this.
Now that you are not blaming GOD, you are blaming him.
Enough!
Bewa…
I squeezed my eyes shut, desperate to silence the voice in my head. I couldn't do this. Not now. Not when I was barely holding myself together. I had to finish what I'd started, and I couldn't do that if I kept allowing my thoughts to drag me back to him.
I bent over the crib again, forcing my attention onto the stubborn screws. My fingers trembled as I struggled with them, the screwdriver slipping once before I tightened my grip and tried again.
Then, a sudden commotion erupted outside the door.
I froze, my head snapping towards the sound. There were raised voices, followed by hurried footsteps. I straightened, frowning, and took a step towards the door, wondering what was going on. Before I could get any closer, the door burst open, and Alice rushed in with Marcus close on her heels.
“Bewaji!” Alice exclaimed, her face lighting up with a bright smile as she hurried towards me and pulled me into a tight embrace.
I stood stiffly in her arms for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden affection. Then I heard Marcus's voice from behind her.
“I tried to stop her,” he explained, sounding almost apologetic as he looked at me over Alice's shoulder.
“It's okay,” I assured him. “But please, could you excuse us?”
He gave a small nod before leaving the room and closing the door behind him.
I gently disentangled myself from Alice's embrace and took a few steps backwards, putting some distance between us. She didn't seem to notice. Or perhaps she chose not to, because the smile on her face remained undiminished.
“I wanted to come and see you at Marcus's place,” she began, her eyes bright with excitement, “but Kylian said you needed some space. He told me to wait until you were ready and that you'd come to us when you felt better.”
My chest tightened at the mention of his name, but I quickly pushed the feeling aside.
“I thought you'd left,” I said, taking another step away from her.
“Left? Of course not!” She looked almost offended by the suggestion. “Someone has to look after your business.”
Ahh! I forgot about those.
“I couldn't stay here alone. The place was too big, and the silence was suffocating.” For the first time since she walked in, Alice's smile faltered. She looked away from me, her eyes briefly dropping to the floor.
“I've been kicking it with Miguel and Carlos in their quarters, waiting for you to come back.”
I watched her as she spoke, noticing the way her gaze wandered around the nursery. Her eyes moved from the boxes on the floor to the half-dismantled crib, then back to me. Slowly, confusion crept into her expression, replacing the excitement she had arrived with.
“What is happening here?” she asked, looking at me in bewilderment.
“I'm packing up,” I answered quietly.
“What?”
I swallowed, but the lump in my throat refused to go away. “She's gone, Alice. My baby is gone, and she's not coming back.” I let out a shaky sigh and turned away from her, unable to bear the look on her face. “She has no use for any of this anymore.”
I walked back to the crib and rested my hand on its wooden rail, my fingers curling around it. “She doesn't need it anymore,” I retorted.
“I wish you had told me this was why you were here,” Alice said as she hurried towards the boxes on the floor. “I would have told you there was no need for any of this.”
Before I could make sense of what she meant, she bent down and began taking things out of the boxes.
My eyes widened in horror as she lifted the little books and toys I had spent the morning packing away and started returning them to their places.
“What are you doing?” I demanded, my voice hardening.
“Unpacking. You're still going to need these.”
“What are you talking about?” I stared at her, struggling to comprehend how she could stand there and do this. “My baby is dead, Alice!” The words tore out of me, raw and painful. “She's dead!”
But she didn't stop. She simply continued arranging the books and toys as though I hadn't said a word, as though my grief were some minor inconvenience she could fix by putting things back where they belonged.
“I have good news for you,” she announced, a bright smile spreading across her face.
“Stop!” I warned, feeling something hot and dangerous rise inside me. “Alice, stop it!”
She finally looked at me, but there was still an inexplicable hopefulness in her eyes. “You remember those eggs they harvested from you for testing? It turns out they weren't for—”
I lunged towards her and slapped the object out of her hands before she could finish. “ENOUGH!” I screamed. She stared at me, stunned into silence.
“Bewa, I know you think you can't be a mother anymore, but I promise you, you will be a mother soon.”
Something inside me snapped, and before I could think, my hand flew across her face. The slap echoed through the nursery. Alice staggered back half a step, her hand rising slowly to her cheek. She stared at me in disbelief, her lips parting as though she wanted to speak but couldn't find the words.
“Bewa…” she whispered.
“How dare you?” My voice shook, but not with sadness this time. It was anger, fierce and uncontrollable, burning through the pain that had consumed me for weeks. “How dare you show your face to me after everything you've done to me?”
“Bewa, I—”
“And now you have the audacity to stand in my nursery and mock me?” I demanded, my chest heaving. “To come in here, touch my baby's things and tell me I'll be a mother soon, as if you have any idea what I've been through?”
“Mock you? That's not what I'm—”
“Get out!” My voice cracked on the last word, but I didn't care. “Get out of my nursery. Get out of my house. I don't want to see you again!”
“I know you hate me for not telling you about Kylian. I couldn’t, Bewa. I signed an NDA, and I had no choice. But I warned you, time and time again, to stay away from Frances. You never listened to me.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” I shook my head, exhausted by the mere sound of her voice. “The worst has already happened. So, I need you and Kylian to stop holding on to me.”
Alice stared at me for a moment, as though she was still hoping I would take back my words.
“So, you’re really divorcing Kylian? You think walking away from your family is the best way forward?”
“A family?” I let out a bitter chuckle. “Is that what you call the lie I’ve been living for the past three years?”
“Lie or not, Bewa, I loved you.” Her voice broke slightly. “I loved you as though you were my own blood. I would have done anything for you. You know that.”
“If you loved me the way you claim you did, you wouldn’t have chosen me over my baby.”
“That was exactly why I chose you over her!” she cried, her composure finally beginning to crack. “I couldn’t lose you, Bewa. I loved you too much to lose you.”
“And I couldn’t lose her!” I shouted back. My chest tightened, and I struggled to draw a steady breath. “Do you understand that? I couldn’t lose my daughter! The past year has been hell for me, Alice, and you are part of the reason why!”
“I know.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “And I am sorry, Bewa. I am so, so sorry. Seeing what her death has done to you, seeing what you have become because of the pain, I wish I could take everything back.”
“But you can’t, can you?” I asked, my voice suddenly quieter. “You can’t bring her back.”
She lowered her head.
“I thought that even if you lost her, you could have another child someday. That was why I made that medical decision. I thought I was saving your life, and I convinced myself that you would eventually understand.” She swallowed hard, struggling to continue. “But I regret it, Bewa. I regret the pain it has caused you. And yet, if I were put in that same position again, knowing what I know now, I think I would still make the same choice.”
I stared at her, unable to believe what I had just heard. “Are you serious?”
“Yes.” She wiped at her tears, but more followed. “Because you are alive, Bewa. You are alive to hate me. You are alive to look me in the eyes and tell me how much you despise me. And believe me, I hate myself too. I hate myself for keeping the truth about Kylian and Frances from you. If I had told you when I should have, none of this would have happened.”
“Unbelievable,” I said, the word tasting bitter on my tongue.
She took a hesitant step towards me, then stopped when she saw my expression. “But I am trying to fix what I can. I am trying to make things right, even if you never forgive me. I came here because I have something to tell you, something that could change—”
“Stop. She is dead. There is no fixing anything.”
“That is what I have been trying to tell you, Bewa! The eggs they harvested from you at the clinic…”
“Enough!” I yelled, my voice ringing through the nursery. “I don’t want to hear another word from you. I don’t want anything to do with you, Kylian, or anyone from that awful family. I am done!” I said, making sure there was no room for doubt.
“So, what? Are you shacking up with Marcus now?” she asked bitterly, and my hands stilled around the little teddy bear I was holding. Slowly, I turned to face her, frowning.
“I am going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that.”
“You are very selfish, you know that?”
I stopped what I was doing and turned to face her. “Excuse me?”
“She was not yours alone, Bewa! You didn’t lose her alone. How dare you act as though you were the only one who lost something? She belonged to us too!”
I scoffed. “You seem to forget that I lost my womb too.”
“That is unfortunate,” she retorted sarcastically, “but it doesn’t make your grief greater than ours.” I stared at her, stunned by the cruelty of her words.
“The womb you lost? Do you have any idea how many people are blaming themselves for what happened? I am! I hate myself for the part I played in all of this, and Kylian…” She stopped abruptly, her lips trembling as she fought back tears. For a moment, she looked away, trying to compose herself, but the tears gathering in her eyes betrayed her. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter.
“Do you even care to know how he has been? In case you have forgotten, she was his daughter too. You didn’t make her alone, Bewa. Have you ever stopped to think about how he is surviving all of this?”
“He did this,” I retorted.
Alice stared at me for a moment before a strange smile spread across her face. Then she began to laugh. It was a bitter, broken sound, one that seemed to hurt her as much as it hurt me. Soon, tears were streaming down her cheeks, but she kept wiping them away as though she refused to let me see how deeply my words had wounded her.
“Of course, he did it. Everybody is at fault except you, the almighty, angelically innocent Bewaji.” I flinched at the mockery in her voice.
“You know, while you are busy dishing out blame, perhaps you should dish some out for yourself too.” She shook her head, and another tear slipped down her cheek. “You didn’t have to see Frances. I begged you not to go, Bewa. I begged you, but you knew it all.”
I pinched the skin on my arm, desperate to hold on to something, anything, as her words found their way into the cracks I had spent weeks trying to seal. The worst part was that I couldn't tell her she was wrong.
“If you had stayed put and gone to the hospital like Beatrice told you to, none of this might have happened. I was at fault. Kylian was at fault. But so were you. Every single one of us played a part in this tragedy, Bewa. Every single one of us.”
“I know that!” I cried, my voice breaking. “Trust me, I know! I have been beating myself up over it every single day!” The words came out louder than I intended, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.
“Do you think I don't know that I made a mistake? Do you think I haven't replayed that day in my head a thousand times, wondering what would have happened if I had listened to Beatrice? If I had stayed away from Frances? If I had made a different choice?” My throat tightened, and I swallowed hard. “I know I made a mistake, Alice. I know!”
My hands began to tremble, so I put the toy I was holding into the box before I could crush it between my fingers.
“But knowing that doesn't make it hurt any less. It doesn't bring Ami back. And it certainly doesn't mean I can stand here and pretend that you and Kylian are the main reasons why my daughter—”
So, now we are blaming Alice too.
Alice slipped a hand into her pocket before stepping towards me. She placed a small envelope in my palm.
“What is this?” I asked, looking from the envelope to her face.
“You know I have been keeping it from you because you said it was taboo for parents to see their dead child where you come from.” She paused, her expression growing solemn. “I didn't understand it then. I mean, I always thought seeing your dead child was an opportunity to see your baby for the last time, a chance to say goodbye. That was how I saw it until I saw the picture of your baby.”
The envelope slipped from my hand when I realised what I was holding. For a moment, I could only stare at it lying on the floor, unable to bring myself to pick it up. I knew what I was looking at, but my mind seemed reluctant to accept it.
“Seeing her like that, so lifeless…” Alice's voice faltered. “It changed me, Bewa, and Kylian… That poor man had to carry his dead daughter in his arms. His own child, Bewa.” She shook her head, her eyes glistening. “It changed him.”
She turned towards the door, but before leaving, she glanced back at me.
“Since we're still distributing blame, perhaps we should be fair about it. You knew Kylian hadn't married you for the right reasons. Of course, you didn't know the whole truth, but you knew enough to understand that his intentions weren't entirely honourable. And if my memory serves me right, you fought to stay married to him.”
She looked at me with a knowing smirk.
“You know, I'm beginning to wonder whether you would have left him even if you had known the whole truth back then.” She chuckled softly. “I think you would have stayed even if you knew the whole truth. But what baffles me now is this: what has changed between then and now? Can you tell me the difference? Can you tell me why you're suddenly so cocky?”
I scowled at her, but the question had already found its way into my head.
He loves you. That is what is different now.
“No?” Alice asked, her smirk widening when I failed to respond. She turned towards the door, only to pause at the threshold and look back at me.
“Ah, I know.” She laughed bitterly. “You're cocky now because he loves you.”
The words struck somewhere I didn't want to examine.
“Back then, he didn't give two shits about you. You could fight all you wanted to keep him, and it wouldn't have mattered to him whether you stayed or left. But now, he cares. Now, he loves you. And suddenly, you can do whatever you want without worrying about the consequences because you know he won't let you go.” She shook her head in disappointment.
“Funny how things change when you finally have someone's heart in your hands.” With that, she walked out.
I remained where I was, her words settling over me like a weight I couldn't shake off. I lowered my gaze to the picture on the floor, and for a long moment, I stared at it, unable to look away.
“Are you okay?”I looked up, Marcus stood a few feet away, watching me with concern. I hadn't heard him enter, and I couldn't tell how much of the exchange he had witnessed.
I looked back down at the picture.
No, I wasn't okay.
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