Chapter 5: Healing Old Wounds
Episode 1
….She sighed, turning to me with a mix of determination and apprehension in her eyes. “Olabamiji, I’ve been thinking about my stepmother and stepsister. About the way we left things.”
I tensed, remembering our dramatic escape from the village. “Are you worried they might try to cause trouble?”
Florence shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I… I want to make things right with them. To build a bridge between my past and our future.”
I was surprised but touched by her compassion. “Are you sure? After everything they put you through?”
She nodded, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “They’re the only family I have left. And despite everything, I believe there’s good in them. I want to try and reconcile.”
I pulled her close, kissing her forehead. “If that’s what you want, I’m with you every step of the way.”
The next few days were a flurry of preparations. We decided to invite Florence’s stepmother, Mary, and stepsister, Peace, to Lagos. It took some convincing over the phone, but eventually, they agreed to come.
On the day of their arrival, Florence was a bundle of nerves. As we waited at the airport, I held her hand tightly.
“It’ll be okay,” I reassured her. “Whatever happens, we’re in this together.”
When Mary and Peace emerged from the arrivals gate, the tension was palpable. Mary’s face was a mask of suspicion, while Peace looked uncomfortable.
“Stepmother, Peace,” Florence said, her voice trembling slightly. “Thank you for coming.”
Mary’s eyes darted between us, taking in our well-dressed appearance and the luxury car waiting outside. “So,” she said, her voice cold, “this is the life you ran away to.”
I felt Florence stiffen beside me, but she took a deep breath and pressed on. “Please, let’s not start like this. I’ve invited you here because I want us to talk, to try and understand each other.”
The ride back to our home was silent and tense. As we entered our apartment, I saw Mary and Peace’s eyes widen at the opulence.
Once seated in the living room, Florence began to speak. She told them about our life in Lagos, about the challenges we’d faced, and about her desire to help bridge the gap between village life and city opportunities.
“I know I hurt you when I left,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “But I want you to be part of my life. To be family again.”
Mary’s face remained impassive, but I saw a flicker of something – perhaps regret? – in her eyes. Peace, however, seemed more receptive.
“I’ve missed you, Florence,” Peace admitted quietly. “And… I’m sorry for how I treated you before.”
It was a small step, but an important one. As the evening progressed, the atmosphere slowly began to thaw. Mary remained guarded, but she listened as Florence shared her experiences and dreams.
By the time we retired for the night, showing Mary and Peace to the guest rooms, there was a tentative truce. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a start.
As Florence and I lay in bed that night, I pulled her close. “I’m proud of you,” I whispered. “It takes great strength to extend an olive branch like that.”
She snuggled into my embrace. “Thank you for supporting me. I know it won’t be easy, but I believe we can heal these old wounds. Together.”
I kissed her softly, marveling at her capacity for forgiveness and love. As we drifted off to sleep, I knew that whatever challenges lay ahead in bridging Florence’s past with our future, we would face them side by side.
