Love Should Not Bruise: Part Four

The call ended, and I slowly lowered the phone from my ear. For the first time in months, I felt a small sense of relief. My mother knew. The truth was finally out. I no longer had to pretend everything was fine or force a smile whenever she asked how my marriage was going. She knew about the abuse. She knew about the baby. She knew about everything.I lay back against the hospital pillow and stared at the ceiling. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of the air conditioner. Outside the window, the evening sun was beginning to disappear behind the buildings. People moved through the hospital grounds carrying on with their lives, completely unaware that mine had just fallen apart.My thoughts drifted to the baby.I had spent months imagining what motherhood would be like. I had imagined tiny hands wrapped around my fingers and sleepy smiles in the middle of the night. I had imagined birthdays, first steps, first words, and all the little moments in between. Now all those dreams felt like photographs that had been burned before they could ever be developed.A tear slipped down my cheek.I wiped it away and closed my eyes.Everything hurt. My body hurt. My heart hurt. Even breathing felt exhausting. I wanted my mother. I wanted to hear her voice again. I wanted to go back to a time when life still made sense.As I lay there, a strange heaviness settled over me. At first I thought it was exhaustion, but the feeling quickly grew stronger. My chest tightened and a sharp pain spread through my body. I opened my eyes immediately.The machine beside my bed began to beep.I frowned and tried to sit up, but dizziness washed over me.Within seconds, nurses rushed into the room. One of them called for a doctor while another adjusted the equipment attached to me. Their faces were tense. Their voices sounded urgent.I wanted to ask what was happening.I wanted to tell them my mother was coming.Instead, I found myself struggling to stay awake.The room blurred around me. The lights above seemed farther away than they had been a few moments earlier. The voices became distant, fading little by little until they sounded like echoes.My final thought was of my mother rushing through traffic to get to me.Then everything went dark.When I opened my eyes again, I was convinced I was dead.The ceiling above me was unfamiliar. For a few seconds I simply stared at it, confused. Then I noticed the familiar crack running through one corner and realized exactly where I was.My room.I sat up so quickly that my head spun.The hospital was gone.The machines were gone.The pain was gone.I looked around frantically. My wardrobe stood exactly where it had always been. Books were piled carelessly on my desk. Clothes hung over the back of a chair.Nothing had changed.A knock sounded at my door."Aduni, are you awake?"My mother's voice.I froze.My heart nearly stopped.The door opened before I could answer, and there she was, standing in the doorway with a basket of laundry balanced against her hip.She looked healthy.Happy.Completely normal.For a moment, I could only stare at her."Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked.I got out of bed and wrapped my arms around her so suddenly that she almost dropped the basket."Aduni!" she exclaimed. "What is wrong with you this morning?"I didn't know how to answer.How could I explain that moments ago I had been in a hospital bed after losing a child that had never existed?How could I explain that I had lived through years of marriage, heartbreak, fear, and grief in what must have only been a few hours of sleep?Eventually, my mother laughed and pushed me away gently."You need to stop sleeping late," she said. "Now hurry up before you're late."Late?I watched her leave the room before glancing at my phone.The screen lit up immediately.One unread message.From Oluwatobi.And suddenly everything came back.I wasn't married.I had never been married.I wasn't pregnant.I had never lost a child.The life I remembered so clearly had never happened.It had only been a dream.Yet it felt real enough to leave a mark.I sat on the edge of my bed staring at Oluwatobi's name for a long time. The future stretched out before me, unwritten and uncertain.Slowly, I smiled.Whatever happened next, at least this story hadn't been written yet. THE END. About 1 in 3 women worldwide experience physical or sexual violence in their lifetime, often at the hands of someone they know or love. Many never tell anyone until it's too late.Love should never require fear, silence, or survival. The right person will add peace to your life, not take it away. Never lose yourself trying to keep someone who is willing to lose you.

Love Should Not Bruise

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