Page 303 of Invisible Bars

My mom looked me up and down, her gaze lingering on my rounded belly, tears barely held back.

“But look at you… you’re glowing,” she whispered, a hint of awe threading through her voice. “Carrying life suits you.”

She reached out as though to touch my belly, but hesitated.

I didn’t know how to respond to that… so I didn’t. I just nodded.

My dad tried again, his tone soft but laced with nostalgia.

“It’s true. You’ve always been beautiful, Naji. But this is… this is different. There’s a peace in your face now that—” He paused, swallowing hard as if he was grappling with the very words hestruggled to articulate. “That I know we didn’t always help you find.”

My heart clenched at the reminder of our complicated past. I didn’t want to talk about the pregnancy. I didn’t want compliments. I wanted the truth, raw and unfiltered.

Putting on a brave face, I looked at both of them, prepared to finally speak on the past.

“Y’all p–practically gave me up when I was four… four years old. Said I was going to N-Nana Li’s for medicine, then left the country... for years.” My head jerked violently, shoulders twitching as the pressure boiled over.

“Bury me with the secrets in the backyard!” I shouted, the words ripping free, wild and unfiltered.

The outburst startled me, but I couldn’t stop. My chest heaved, my throat burned, and I forced myself to keep going because after all these years, silence wasn’t an option anymore.

My dad’s eyes widened, a flicker of denial and guilt crossing his features. “You needed care. We couldn’t?—”

“C-Couldn’t what?!” I snapped, my voice sharper than I intended. “Handle the embarrassment? Couldn’t s-stomach the whispers about the child with tics? With Tourette’s?”

My voice cracked, but I pressed on, fueled by years of pent-up frustration.

“Y-You didn’t want me to ruin your status in the village,” I kept ranting. “That’s what it was, right?! S-So instead of loving me through it, you sent me away like… like I was a problem to f-fix. I drew in a shaky breath, my eyes burning. “L-Love isn’t proven when it’s easy to give; it’s proven when it’s hardest to hold on… and you dropped me the moment I got heavy!”

My body tensed as another tic hit before the words flew out uncontrollably.

“Banished like bad luck in a baby dress!”

I took a breath, closing my eyes for a moment to steady myself as another tic flickered at my brow.

I calmed myself the way I always had to—with my own breath, my own hands and my own damn resilience. When I opened my eyes, I found my mom covering her mouth, silent tears spilling over her fingers, each drop a testament to her remorse.

I looked straight at them, voice unwavering.

“I do not need people who didn’twantme,” I stated bluntly. “B-But I deserved the truth. Y’all told Amaka the truth when she started asking questions… but you never told me. I never got that apology. Or… a reason good enough to explain why I had to be the sacrifice while she got to stay.”

My dad expression shifted to one of utter devastation.

“We were ashamed,” he finally admitted, stepping closer, desperation in his eyes. “We told ourselves we were protecting you. But we weren’t. We were protecting us… from judgment… from guilt… from the truth. And we were wrong.”

My mom looked down at her trembling hands, then back at me, her voice barely above a whisper.

“We weren’t there like we should’ve been, Naji… not emotionally… not in the ways that mattered. And that’s something we’ll regret for the rest of our lives.”

With a shaky breath, she reached for my hand slowly, as if testing the waters, unsure if I would pull away in anger.

Even with tears blurring my vision—some old, some new—I let her take it, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. Then my dad stepped in too, his arms wrapping around both of us tightly. We stood under the sheltering branches of the tree, trembling and crying—wrapped in a hug long overdue.

“We’re so sorry, sweetheart. So sorry!” my mom whimpered, her voice cracking under the weight of it all. “Please forgive us! Iknow we can’t change the past, but we want to be there for you… moving forward.”

Her hands trembled in mine, a fragile connection, full of unspoken words and hope.

I glanced down, my free hand resting gently on my belly, consciously connecting with the life within me.