CHAPTER 18 – THIS FAMILY CALLED MINE: COLOUR US UP

© Opeyemi Akintunde
As Inspired by the LIVING WORD

The moment I turned into our street, I felt a new kind of peace.

My fingers still trembled on the steering wheel, but this time, it wasn’t fear. It was relief… a relief that we had escaped something dark and painful, and I had brought home something that might finally open the door to light.

Deji was waiting by the gate.

The minute he saw me, he sprinted toward the car.

I barely stepped out when his arms wrapped around me. Tightly. Like a man who hadn’t breathed in days.

“Our baby is coming soon!” he whispered joyfully against my ear.

I laughed with tears streaming down my face. “Yes, Deji… our baby is coming.”

For the first time in years, I believed it.

He pulled back, looking into my eyes like he was searching for something. “You did it. I knew you would. I never doubted you, Mo.”

I shook my head in awe. “Deji… I thank God for you. Thank you for standing by me, for loving me despite my inability to… you know—”

He placed his finger gently over my lips.

“Don’t. Don’t talk like that. You’re my wife. My joy. My answered prayer. No painting, no child, no success can replace what you are to me. But now, we’re going to have it all…together.”

We walked hand in hand into the house, and with each step, the air of gloom that had clouded our marriage for so long seemed to lift.

Deji helped me bring in the bag containing my two precious paintings. We had shared the paintings three each and kept the last three with Setemi. He unzipped it slowly, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the artwork.

“Wow! These are masterpieces, Mo… absolute masterpieces. If we sell just one, we’ll have enough for the IVF, the surrogacy, everything!”

“I know,” I said softly. “They’re our redemption.”

We celebrated over dinner. Deji had prepared something simple, and for the first time in a long while, I could eat without sadness choking me.

Afterwards, he picked up his phone and began to make calls. Contacts from his art network since we couldn’t find the Diary. He began calling Friends of friends. People who knew collectors.

I left him to it and went into the kitchen, humming softly as I arranged the dishes and wiped down the counter.

But then… I saw it.

A shadow.

A figure.

It moved quickly…just past the corridor leading to the backyard.

My heart froze.

Every joyful thought vanished as icy fear gripped my chest.

I dropped the cloth I was holding, my hands trembling again… this time, not in relief.

“Deji?” I called out, hoping it was him.

No response.

“Deji!” I called again, louder.

Still no answer.

Then I heard a soft creak…like a door moving.

And just like that… I knew something was wrong.

To be continued…
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