A year had passed.
Maria stood in front of a crowd at the grand opening of the Madu-Obasi Foundation. The hall was filled with women, children, partners, and press. The foundation—jointly named—was now fully funded and focused on single mothers, education, and rebuilding dignity.
As she stepped up to the microphone, her heart swelled.
"This place isn't just bricks and paint," she began, "it's proof that pain can birth purpose. That silence can become strength. And that no woman's story ends with struggle."
Applause thundered.
From the front row, Alexander watched with pride. Junior, sitting beside him in a tiny suit, clapped wildly.
---
Later, as they walked through the garden behind the centre, Maria took Alexander's hand.
"I never thought I'd say this," she said, "but I'm grateful for how we began… even if it was messy."
He looked at her, eyes soft. "Messy brought us here."
They stopped by a tree they'd planted together six months earlier. A plaque sat beneath it:
"For all new beginnings."
Maria leaned against him, content.
No more hiding. No more pain haunting every step.
She had a son. She had a voice. She had a man who'd finally chosen love over legacy.
And more than anything…
She had peace.