Write to Right

Episode 62 (The Final Episode)
The Weight of Mercy
©️ Rosemary Oghenerobo

I watched Bezalel suckle, his sleepy eyes fluttering open and shut, his tiny fingers curled around the edge of my wrapper. His hair was soft, a frizzy mess of curls that made me smile every time I touched it. If I needed consolation and yes, sometimes I still did, it was that he looked like me. Nothing like Tayo. This child was my flesh and blood.

This was our last nursing moment before his grandmother whisked him away. I had pleaded, almost begged for this final feed before our honeymoon. Just one more moment with him. I had expressed enough milk to last two weeks, yet I still worried. How would I survive a whole week without him?

The door creaked open, and Tunde stepped in. He paused in the doorway, his gaze finding us. Me. Him. Our son. I shifted a little, suddenly aware of my exposed breast. I turned slightly to shield myself, but his footsteps didn’t stop. Tunde walked over, eyes fixed on Bezalel’s tiny form latched to me. He gently caressed his head, then his gaze lifted, slow, deliberate and met mine. Then lower. My heart fluttered instantly.

“What are you staring at?” I asked, barely above a whisper.

He chuckled, that deep, easy sound that always melted my defenses. “I’m staring at my wife and my son,” he said. “And praying he sleeps deeply so I can have you all to myself.”

I looked away, biting back a shy smile, but a knock on the door interrupted us. Tunde went to open it. His aunt stepped in, soft and warm as always. I smiled at her, gently removing Bezalel from my breast. He was limp with sleep. I handed him over to her, whispering goodnight. She cooed lovingly over him as she left, shutting the door behind her.

Then silence. The kind that isn’t really quiet but full of anticipation, thick with awareness. I stood and hurried to the bathroom, heart racing as I undressed. I let the water run warm over me, hoping it would calm me down. I was excited. I was nervous. After all these months of yearning and restraint, we were finally here-man and wife.

The door opened.

I turned and froze. Tunde stood there, naked. Unashamed. Beautiful in a way that made my knees weak and my breath catch. He smiled, that boyish, teasing grin on his lips as his eyes met mine, bold and unblinking. He stepped into the shower, and the heat of his body beside mine sent shockwaves through me.

“You’re finally mine,” he whispered, his tone seemed to drip with honey

I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breath, but he slid his hand into mine and pulled me closer, kissing me deeply, thoroughly as if memorizing the taste of me. His mouth claimed me, and I almost lost my footing in the slippery water. Then he pulled away.

“Not here, my queen,” he said with a wicked grin.

He took the soap and bathed me; slow, silent, reverent. Every stroke of his hand was deliberate, igniting tiny sparks over my skin. When he washed himself, I couldn’t tear my eyes away. Every movement made my pulse race faster. He lifted me in his arms and carried me out, toweled me gently, then laid me on the bed like I was made of porcelain.

“What were you hiding from me then?” he teased, eyes dancing with mischief.

I said nothing but my body betrayed me. My eyes. My breath. My silence said everything. I wanted him. Desperately. Wholly. He bent and kissed me again, and his hands roamed over my skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake. When he slid into me, deep, slow, sure, I opened for him completely, my body aching with the pleasure of it. I saw stars. I felt undone.

I moaned. I cried. I begged him to go harder and he did. Each stroke was deeper, more consuming, until I shattered beneath him, climaxing with a scream I couldn’t hold back.

I wept.

I don’t know why. Maybe it was the joy, the vulnerability, the trust or the grace of finally being fully seen, fully loved. Tunde held me close, wiping the tears gently from my cheeks. His voice was soft.

“Are you okay?”

I nodded, wrapping my arms around him tightly. “I love you,” I whispered.

He exhaled deeply, pressing his lips to my forehead. “I love you with everything in me.”

At that moment, I knew we had begun something beautiful…something that proves love always wins as long as we have Hashem.

The End!!!

NB: The end ooo! Whew! Grateful I was able to finish this story. Pls share, like and comment

Episode 60
The Weight of Mercy
©️ Rosemary Oghenerobo

I blinked, stunned still.

Tunde’s words sank into my heart like balm to a wound I had tried so hard to ignore. Because I love you. And I want to marry you. The rain blurred everything around us, but his voice was crystal clear. My chest tightened. I had missed him. Terribly.

I hadn’t walked away because I didn’t want him. I walked away because if I had stayed, I might have thrown myself into his arms and now, here he was, shielding me from the storm with his body, holding me like I was something precious, and asking me to be his wife.

My eyes searched his. I almost drowned in the warmth and sincerity they held. I looked down quickly, searching for something-anything to anchor me, to help me say no even though every fiber of my being screamed yes.

“Your mother…” I began, my voice a whisper.

“I’ve spoken to her,” he said gently. “I told her I want to marry you. She gave her blessing.”

My lips trembled. “The baby…”

“Our baby,” he corrected, his voice firm but soft. “If you’ll marry me, we’ll raise him or her together. I will stand with you and protect you like Boaz did to Ruth”

My heart stopped, his words settled perfectly in my heart. “A kinsman redeemer.” I said.

Tunde nodded, “I was led to study the book of Ruth and I see a lot of her in you. You have left home to a foreign people even in your pain of loss. Let me be your kinsman redeemer, let me protect you.”

It’s a he,” I whispered before I could stop myself. “The baby.”

Tunde sighed, and his eyes flickered for just a moment. I knew what he was thinking. I had once told him I wanted a girl and not a boy to remind me of Tayo but now I smiled.

“I’m not afraid anymore, Tunde. I will love him all the same.”

He smiled, and I noticed the faint dimple on his cheek. That dimple had undone me more times than I cared to admit. “What will you name him, Obed?”

I shook my head, “Bezalel…in the shadow of God, God is his mentor and protector.”

He pulled me closer, and I felt his eyes darken. That look, raw, tender, filled with longing-I knew it too well. It made my knees weak.

“Hauwa,” he said softly, “please marry me.”

My breath hitched. I nodded and smiled. Tunde shut his eyes and rested his forehead against mine, exhaling like a man finally letting go of a heavy burden. I leaned in, burying my face into his soaked shirt, feeling the warmth of his heartbeat beneath my cheek. I held him close, soaking in the moment, soaking in him.

Then he shifted slightly and smiled, teasing, a glint of heat in his gaze. “You know,” he said, “I wish I could marry you here and now and claim you as mine.”

I laughed, surprised by how light it sounded, how real and effortless. I hadn’t laughed like that in a long time. Somehow, I had such a hold on this man. It made my heart flutter and ache at once. I reached up and cupped his face, pulling him in for a light kiss, just a whisper of one but Tunde wasn’t done. He deepened the kiss, slow and reverent, and for a moment, the world ceased to exist.

Then he stopped, pulled away. The air between us crackled. “You need to stay away from me,” he said, backing into the now-calm drizzle, his eyes wild and full of desire. “When are we getting married?” he asked, his voice lower, deeper.

Those eyes… They were doing dangerous things to my body. “After the baby,” I replied, smiling.

Tunde groaned like a man in torment. “If that’s the case,” he said, “it’s safest we keep as much distance between us as possible, until we say ‘I do’ in front of all the witnesses we can gather.”

I laughed again, my heart bubbling over. This…this was joy and hope and healing and promises and I was ready for it.

Episode 58
The Weight of Mercy
©️ Rosemary Oghenerobo

I stared at them, kneeling, solemn, hopeful as if I could blink and they would disappear.

“What are you doing here?” My voice came out dry, almost brittle. Not loud, not angry. Just… exhausted.

The older couple whom I recognize now as one of their church elders seated at the edge of the couch gestured toward the armchair across from him. “Please, Hauwa… sit, let us talk.”

I shook my head immediately. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Tayo’s mum wiped her tears with the edge of her wrapper, then lifted her hands in supplication. “My daughter, please. We know… we wronged you. All of us. We are on our knees.”

I nodded slowly. “Oh, I know.” I placed a palm against my aching lower back, the baby kicking as if agreeing with me. “Isn’t it the same way you were here some months ago… kneeling, begging me to keep the baby and I won’t have to go through this alone? Didn’t you promise heaven and earth?"

My voice cracked, but I held on. “And after that performance, because that’s what it was, right? I followed you to Lagos and you and your family called me names I still can’t say out loud.”

I turned my gaze to all of them, then finally settled on Tayo’s mum. “So forgive me if I don’t believe this show. I know why you’re here. It’s because of the child. But let me be clear; this child is not going anywhere. I won’t hand him over to any of you. You may as well stand up and leave.”

There was silence. Thick, still and almost sacred. Then Tunde’s mum spoke, her voice soft like wind after a storm. I was surprised she could be soft-spoken, the picture in my mind was the belligerent woman I had seen some months ago.

“I don’t blame you, Hauwa. We deserve every word. But I didn’t come here to take your child. I came to seek your forgiveness. Me, especially me.” She reached into her purse and took out a handkerchief, blotting her tears gently. “The night I heard your voice… your voice on that recording when you spoke of all you went through with Tayo…I have not known rest since.”

My chest tightened. I blinked. “What recording?”

I looked sharply at Tunde. He shifted, then raised his hand slightly like a child caught in class. “I did it,” he said. “I played the voice note for them. They needed to hear the truth… the pain… everything you never said to their faces. I...I wanted them to understand. Not to defend themselves anymore.”

A sharp breath escaped me. I couldn’t even form words.

Tayo’s mum leaned forward slightly. “That recording broke me, Hauwa. I failed you. As a woman, as a mother and as a Christian. I know that asking for the child now would be…” her voice cracked, “insensitive but I’m not asking that. I’m only pleading… let mercy touch your heart. Let us… somehow… be part of this child’s life, even if just a little. We’re not asking to raise him. Only to be there. To be better.”

She paused, then added softly, “And… I am sorry. For the cruel things we said and the things we didn’t say but showed to you.”

Something in my chest shifted. Tilted and broke a little. Unbidden, tears spilled quietly down my cheeks. I didn’t wipe them. I couldn’t. I was too tired to pretend. Part of me wanted to scream, to ask them where this humanity was when I needed them the most, but another part remembered David. King David; running from Saul, hunted like a criminal. Still, each time Saul lay within reach of his sword, David didn’t strike. He chose honor. He chose mercy.

Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us… I remembered praying that so often. It was easy to say but now…now I was the one holding the sword.
Tunde stood slowly. His steps toward me were quiet, his face unreadable but open. He stopped a few feet away, his voice rough.

“Hauwa… we are sorry. For everything, for abandoning you, for doubting you, for not standing beside you when it mattered the most. I know we can’t fix all that but please… forgive us… Forgive all of us.”

His voice caught and he whispered. “Please. Forgive me too for staying away all this while”
I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt like it was caving in.

He opened his arms. Like a flood breaking its dam, I desperately wanted to move into those arms but I felt suffocated and walked right past him and everyone else into the cool evening, I needed to clear my head.

Episode 57
The Weight of Mercy
©️ Rosemary Oghenerobo

My body has become foreign to me. Heavy and unrelenting. I wake up tired and go to bed even more exhausted. The heat in Kano is a wicked thing, like it has personal beef with my skin. If I were in Lagos, at least the rain would be balm to my tired body. I would be comforted with the cool air, cloudy skies and the smell of wet soil but Lagos… meant Tunde.

I shouldn't think such thoughts.

I sighed as I adjusted my back against the headboard of my bed, willing my mind to get up and move and trying to find that one elusive position that didn’t feel like my bones were grinding against themselves. My waist ached. My bladder felt like a tap with a loose handle, always dripping, never quite empty. Fatigue clung to me like a clingy child, refusing to let go, and sleep? Sleep had become a luxury my body could no longer afford.

I rubbed my belly gently, feeling a small kick against my palm. My heart warmed… and then cooled almost immediately. “Three more weeks,” I whispered, “just three.” The doctor said July 31st. That’s twenty-two days away but each day feels like three. I whispered a quick prayer, pressing my lips close to my bump as if the child could hear me clearer that way.

“Abba… please… hasten it. Please.” I closed my eyes. “I’m tired.”

A whisper, not from me but to me rose in my spirit like a breeze through a window left ajar.

Don’t be afraid.

I opened my eyes, blinking back the hot sting of tears. “But it’s a boy,” I said softly, remembering the doctor’s smile last week as he broke the news, expecting me to be overjoyed. I had forced a smile then, but inside… fear.

I was scared. Scared that this boy would carry the burden of the ones before him. That he’d end up cold, violent, broken, that he’d grow to remind me of…

Bezalel...

No. No child from your womb will turn into a societal menace. God had spoken that to me, plain as day. I remember that moment clearly. I had felt peace wash over me like water over parched skin. He had assured me that He is with me and that, I’m learning, is enough. One day at a time. One heartbeat at a time.

I exhaled, slowly tied my veil around my head, pausing to make sure it draped evenly over my shoulders. I caught sight of myself in the standing mirror. My belly was round and low, my frame clumsy and swollen. I looked like a woman at war with her body, her thoughts, her regrets.

"Three weeks," I murmured, squinting at my reflection. "You better not stay longer than that, little man."

I chuckled, then sighed deeply. Each step out of the room felt like an expedition. I waddled into the corridor, then into the living room, reaching to switch on the ceiling fan…

And froze.

I blinked. Once. Twice. They were all seated, as if in a theatre of confrontation. My breath caught.

Tunde. Tunde’s mother. Tayo’s mum and an elderly couple I recognized from their church back in Lagos. Uwa and my father sat quietly, their eyes averted from me but all other eyes turned to me. Tunde stood, a faint smile on his lips. His face looked older somehow, leaner, his eyes tired yet swimming with all emotion. He had always been handsome, but now he looked like a man who’d been through fire.

I opened my mouth but nothing came out. Why were they here? To take my child? Then it happened. As if on cue, they all dropped to their knees. One. Two. Three. All of them. My mouth parted. My heart beat so hard, I thought it would explode.

Tayo's mum was already crying. Her wrapper slipped slightly as she tried to wipe her face with the corner of it, her lips trembling as she looked up at me.

Episode 55
The Weight of Mercy
©️ Rosemary Oghenerobo

I hissed aloud, flinging my pillow over my head as the persistent knock grated against what little peace I had left. It was too early or maybe too late, I didn’t even know anymore. I had tried to ignore it, to will it away, praying the intruder would lose patience and leave me in my misery but no, whoever it was had clearly made it their life’s mission to ruin my sleep.

Grudgingly, I swung my legs over the bed and padded into the sitting room, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. My body felt heavy, not just from exhaustion, but from the weight of the past week. Since Hauwa left, nothing has been the same. It was as though someone had carved a hole in me and left it gaping. She’d probably thought I was angry with her because I hadn’t shown up at the airport. The truth? I was too ashamed to face her. Not after that night.

My stomach turned at the memory-my hands on her breasts, my lips against hers, the desperation I’d felt. I grimaced and scratched my scrubby overgrown beards. What the hell was this? Lust? Guilt? Love? I needed to know. I needed to understand this chaos inside me.

I opened the door with a sigh just as the sun’s harsh rays slapped my face like an accusation. Standing before me, in all their judgmental glory, were my mum and Tayo’s mum. Both women stared at me like I was hiding the Ark of the Covenant.

“Where is she?” Aunt Ronke demanded without preamble.

Before I could respond, my mum shoved past me and stormed into the house like she owned the place. Her tall frame cast shadows across the room, and her presence was as frustrating as ever.

“Good morning to you too,” I muttered under my breath, teeth clenched as I followed behind her.
I hadn’t seen or spoken to either of them in the past week. I had stayed away deliberately. A part of me was so furious with them it scared me. The things they’d said. The things they’d done and now they were here, acting like they suddenly cared.

I watched as my mother searched the house, peering into corners like Hauwa was some fugitive hiding behind curtains. When she opened the back door and looked out, I lost my patience.

“She’s gone,” I said, voice flat.

“Gone where?” my mother snapped, spinning around.

“To her parents,” I replied coolly.

Aunt Ronke’s face crumpled like a wet napkin. “You let her go back there? After everything?”

“What about the child?” Mum added, folding her arms.

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh that surprised even me. “What child? The one she had to w***e herself for, just to give your precious Tayo a legacy?”

My aunt flinched. My mum hissed and looked away.

“She has chosen to raise her child in peace,” I said. “Without you two witches breathing down her neck.”

Aunt Ronke stepped closer, her voice cracking. “We need to go talk to her, convince her to come back…”

“To what?” I cut in, my voice rising. “You’ve both made it clear you think she’s cheap. Undeserving. You insulted her at every turn. Now what? Now you remember she’s carrying your grandchild?”

They didn’t answer.

I paced the room, fists clenched. “Make up your mind. Either she’s good enough to be in this family or she’s not. You don’t get to break her and then pretend to be her savior.”

Aunt Ronke shook her head slowly, tears pooling in her eyes. I pulled out my phone and scrolled to the voice recording. “You want to know what she’s been through? Here. Listen.”
I hit play.

Her voice filled the room-soft, shaking, raw with pain. She recounted every detail of that night. Tayo’s betrayal. The violence. The shame. Her fear.

I watched their faces as they listened. My mother’s jaw trembled. Aunt Ronke covered her mouth with her hand, tears spilling over.
When the recording ended, silence settled over the room like a curse.

“I recorded that the night she left,” I said quietly. “She didn’t know I kept it. I needed to remember. I needed something to remind me not to let people like you twist the truth.”

I turned and walked away from their stunned faces, my heart hammering. Back in my room, I shut the door and leaned against it. The ache was still there, throbbing in my chest but I needed sleep. Sleep was the only escape I had left. Determined, I shut my eyes and willed my mind to sleep.

Note: Apologies lovelies! Stay tight for all episodes to be uploaded. We are finally wrapping this story!