It had been two weeks since the court ruling, and the storm had started to quiet.
Maria was back at the community centre in Abeokuta, not as a visitor—but as a speaker. Word had spread about her story, and now young women gathered to hear her truth firsthand.
She stood before them, Junior playing in the corner, her voice steady.
"You don't have to come from wealth to be worthy. You don't need a powerful name to walk with power. Your voice matters."
The applause was soft but sincere.
Afterwards, a tall woman in a grey suit approached her.
"Ms. Obasi, I'm Ngozi from the Women's Development Trust. We run a program for single mothers—offering support, jobs, and visibility. We'd love for you to be our ambassador."
Maria blinked. "Me?"
"You've lived it. And people listen when you speak."
---
That night, she shared the news with Alexander over dinner.
He smiled. "You're becoming more than just a survivor, Maria. You're becoming a voice for many."
She looked down shyly. "I never imagined this."
He reached for her hand. "You imagined raising a child in silence. This? You earned."
Their hands lingered, the silence between them no longer uncomfortable, but filled with understanding.
---
Later, Maria opened her journal, one she hadn't touched in years.
On a clean page, she wrote:
"This isn't the end. This is where my story truly begins."