Naledi had finally found a rhythm in her life, embracing the peace and love that came with being with Noah. For the first time in a long while, her heart felt settled. Her days were filled with laughter, her nights with warmth, and her children thrived in the calm that surrounded them. But just as she was beginning to relax truly, a call came through from Kenya—her mother's voice trembling on the other end.
"Naledi… It's your father. He's in the hospital. It's bad. Very bad."
The world around Naledi seemed to blur. Her fingers clutched the phone tightly as her mother explained that her father was on his deathbed. He had been diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer, and it was already in its final stages. Her heart pounded, but she kept her composure. She couldn't bear to alarm Noah or the kids, not now.
When Noah asked her why she looked so tense, she smiled faintly and said, "I just need a little break. Work's been overwhelming, and I think I need a solo vacation to clear my head."
She booked her ticket that night, flying out to Nairobi's Wilson Airport under the weight of a thousand unsaid words. At the arrivals terminal, her sister and brother-in-law were waiting. It had been years since Naledi had seen her sister—and it showed.
The car ride to the hospital was a thick silence interspersed by awkward attempts at conversation. Her sister's husband, a man with kind eyes, tried to bridge the distance.
"So… Naledi, it's good to finally meet you. Heard so much about you. How's life in the States?"
Before she could answer, her sister snapped, voice sharp as broken glass. "Why are you talking to her like she's some kind of hero? She ran away, remember? Left us all behind."
Naledi turned her gaze to the window, letting the silence swallow her. There was no point arguing, not now.
At the hospital, they were ushered into a private room. The sterile smell of antiseptic mixed with the heaviness in the air. A doctor gave her the news—stage four stomach cancer, discovered too late. Her father didn't have long. He was frail, a shadow of the man she once feared and revered. His voice was a whisper, yet it still carried weight.
"I want to speak to Naledi. Alone."
The room emptied, and she stepped closer to the bed. He reached for her hand, his eyes glassy but alert.
"I held on for as long as I could… I just wanted to see you one last time."
A sob caught in her throat, but she held it back.
"I'm sorry," he continued, voice breaking. "For everything. For not protecting you. For blaming you. For driving you away. I was wrong, Naledi."
Tears streamed down her face as she knelt beside him. "It's okay, Baba. It's the past. I forgave you a long time ago."
He gripped her hand tightly. "I've made changes to the will. Most of what I have… It's yours now. It's the least I can do."
The days that followed were a blur of tension. The news about the will stirred resentment, especially from her sister. Whispers followed her through the halls of the house, stares of disbelief and bitterness. One afternoon, her sister confronted their father.
"You're giving everything to her? After all these years?"
"I made my decision," he said firmly. "And if anyone questions it again, they can consider themselves out of the will completely."
In the weeks that followed, Naledi devoted herself to caring for her father. In his fragile state, he seemed to appreciate her presence more than ever. She also tried to reconnect with the family she had left behind. Some welcomed her back hesitantly, recognizing the pain in her eyes. Others remained cold, refusing to let go of the past.
Her father eventually decided he no longer wanted to remain in the hospital. He wanted to feel life one last time. So he booked several rooms at the Serena Hotel and brought the entire family there for a final gathering. A celebration of life, he called it.
There, amidst the gentle hum of hotel staff and the distant sound of music, Naledi saw a familiar face across the lobby. Her breath caught.
"Shawn?" she said, incredulous.
Her ex-husband turned, a smile breaking across his face. "Naledi! I can't believe it."
"What… what are you doing here?"
"I figured it was time to see Kenya for myself. You always spoke of it with such love."
They talked for a while, old wounds surfacing in a bittersweet dance of memories. The talk was awkward but warm. He looked good—better than she remembered. Calm. Confident. Familiar.
From a distance, her family watched them as soon as they saw them. Whispers began. Her sister's eyes narrowed as she saw them together. She marched over, her voice dripping with disdain.
"Well, well, well.. what do we have here? Your sugar daddy?"
Every conversation in the lobby died. Naledi froze. Shawn turned, his face not showing any emotion. Her face burned with a mix of anger and shame, but she said nothing. She had faced worse. She slowly-deliberatly, turned to face her sister.