In a world where almost everything was sexualised, and virginity was considered old-fashioned, I took pride in being a virgin at 24. I often boasted that I was a “nine-month bride”.
In my circle, this meant you were likely to have your first child soon after marriage. For many of my friends, it happened naturally, but not for me. After Victor and I married, it felt as if the doors of fertility were closed to us.
For nine years, we visited several gynaecologists and fertility clinics both at home and abroad. Each time, we were told the same thing: nothing was wrong with either of us. Those were tough years, but we held on to hope.
Our story changed in the tenth year of our marriage when our precious son Michael was born. He arrived when we were almost losing hope, a true miracle. Michael was sweet and playful, rarely cried and brought joy to everyone around him.
I remember the first time he called me “Mama”. I was overwhelmed with emotion and cried for two days. Each time he smiled and said “Mama”, my heart melted. Victor couldn’t understand why I was so emotional until the day Michael called him “Dada”. He cried too, but with joy and in celebration, he flew the three of us to Seychelles.
The trip was meant as a holiday, but I became pregnant while we were there. We were blessed with twins, and soon after, I became pregnant again with another set of twins. My quiver was full. One might expect all attention to shift to the twins, but it didn’t. Michael remained special—the miracle who paved the way for his siblings. Close family even nicknamed him the “womb opener”.
After years of waiting, our family was finally complete, and I was truly happy.
Years later, our children were grown and successful, but Michael, our little angel, had changed. He became addicted to drugs and involved in every unthinkable vice.
Despite attending the best schools and even studying abroad at an Ivy League university, he constantly picked on his siblings who had not shared the same privileges. He got a car at 18, and by 21, he was learning the ropes of his father’s business. Being our miracle baby was not an excuse to behave badly. We tried to raise him responsibly, but he developed shameful habits, some too terrible to describe.
Michael’s greed grew when he learnt the extent of his father’s wealth. He tried everything to get rid of Victor, but his plans were foiled repeatedly. This only made him angrier. He grew to hate all of us, especially his father. Our angel had become a demon, and it broke my heart.
I became very sick, suffering panic attacks that landed me in the hospital. My children were with me, but my greatest joy came when Michael visited. He looked sober and genuinely sorry for the trouble he had caused. I was happy to see my son; I could understand how the father in the Bible must have felt when his prodigal son returned. My son was back, and my health improved. Our family was peaceful again.
For a few months, life was fine until Michael got into a car accident that left him with a broken neck and fractured spinal cord, confining him to a wheelchair.
I was shocked. Our cars were regularly maintained. In the past, we used a particular automotive service centre until one of its staff, Mr Sadiku, left to start his own business. He was trustworthy, skilled and treated kindly by Victor and me. We even helped him with his son, Sodiq, by getting him off the streets.
Despite this, I couldn’t understand how Michael’s car could fail. Foul play crossed my mind, but we trusted Mr Sadiku. We accepted the accident as fate.
One morning, Mr Sadiku and Sodiq came to see us, insisting that Michael be present. This was unusual. Michael was in pain and scheduled for physiotherapy, but we allowed it. Surprisingly, it was Sodiq who spoke. He thanked Victor for helping him and his father, but we wanted to know the reason for the meeting.
Sodiq then played voice recordings from his phone—conversations between him and Michael over two years. Michael had repeatedly asked Sodiq to get his old friends from the streets to harm Victor. We were shocked. Our miracle son had been plotting against his own father.
It got worse. Michael had even offered Sodiq a large sum of money to tamper with his father’s car brakes. When Sodiq refused, Michael approached a staff member at Sadiku’s garage. But that staff, loyal to Victor, tampered with Michael’s brakes instead, preventing his father from being harmed.
Michael wept, begging for forgiveness. How could a child harbour such hatred for those who had loved him unconditionally? Victor and I exchanged looks, a silent understanding between us. Despite everything, the truth had to be confronted. We had to let Michael know that he was not our biological child. He was the odd one who had received a life of abundance and love he did not deserve. He was adopted.
