Chapter Six: A Mother's Knowing
Faith no longer slept well.
It wasn't dreams that kept her awake—it was a quiet, persistent unease that clawed at her chest. The house was too quiet, too empty for a woman whose heart was usually at peace. She lay beside John, staring at the ceiling, listening to the old clock tick like a warning she couldn't quite name.
"John," she whispered.
He turned toward her, rubbing his eyes. "You're awake again."
"I've been awake," she said softly, voice trembling just a little. "For days now."
John sighed, the sound heavy with concern. "You're thinking about the girls."
Faith sat up, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. "Yes. They don't call like before. They avoid video calls. Especially Favour. I… I can feel something is wrong."
John tried to reassure her, his voice calm but hollow. "University life. Exams, friends, responsibilities—they're busy, that's all."
Faith shook her head, frustration and fear mixing in her expression. "No, John. This is not busyness. This is hiding. I can feel it in my bones."
The next morning, she called again.
Favorite answered, her voice unusually bright, almost too bright.
"Mama!" she said.
Faith smiled faintly, though worry pressed at her chest. "My daughter, why don't you show your faces anymore? Have you forgotten your parents?"
Favorite hesitated. "Network… Mama… it's bad."
Faith frowned, her voice gentle but firm. "Network has been bad for months?"
Silence.
"Mama… please, just for a moment," Faith said softly. "Let me see you."
"Mama… we're not dressed well," Favorite replied, too quickly, too neatly rehearsed.
Faith closed her eyes and let the silence speak for her. She knew. She just knew.
That evening, after the calls had ended, Faith confided in John.
"She is hiding something," she said, her voice low and steady. "And Favorite is helping her."
John leaned back, troubled, his hands folding over his chest. "What kind of thing?"
Faith's voice dropped, the weight of her intuition pressing down. "Something heavy. Something that brings shame."
John went quiet. He knew better than to speak too soon. The kind of silence that hung between them now was heavier than words.
Days passed, and the distance only grew. Calls became shorter, laughter became forced. Even Favorite seemed unable to mask the tension. Then one evening, Faith heard it—the faintest tremble in Favour's voice over the phone.
"Are you eating well?" Faith asked, keeping her voice calm.
"Yes, Mama," Favour replied too quickly.
"Why do you sound tired?"
"I'm just stressed," Favour said, though her voice cracked slightly.
Faith pressed her lips together. "Put the phone on video."
The line went dead.
Faith pressed her hands to her face, silent tears slipping down.
"She hung up on me," she whispered to John. "My own child."
John reached out, wrapping his arms around her. "We'll go to them," he said softly. "We'll go."
Faith nodded, her heart both heavy and hopeful. They had raised these children with love, but she knew now that love alone could not shield them from the mistakes and burdens of the world.
---
The following days were tense. Faith tried to call again, but every time the phone rang, it was either ignored or answered with a short, rehearsed excuse. She noticed small details—Favorite's voice seemed strained when she spoke, Favour avoided the usual laughter in their conversations, and every answer felt like it had been carefully measured.
Faith began to sense it not only in the words but in the pauses, in the hesitations, in the silence between words. She had experienced intuition before, as a mother—but this was different. This was a quiet alarm, one she could not ignore.
At night, she prayed.
"Lord," she whispered, "give me strength. Give me patience. Let me reach them before shame closes their hearts completely."
John watched her, the weight of his own worry reflected in her posture. "Faith… maybe we should give them space. They will tell us when they are ready."
"No, John," Faith replied softly but firmly. "This is not about space. This is about fear. And I know fear when I see it."
He nodded silently.
---
Then came the day that broke the dam.
Faith called again, her voice steady, careful. "Favour? It's Mama. Can I talk to you for a moment?"
Favour's silence lasted longer than usual, then a quiet whisper. "Mama… I…"
Faith's heart clenched. She could hear the trembling in her daughter's voice. "Yes, my child?"
"I… I'm scared," Favour whispered, almost inaudible.
Faith's chest ached. "I know, sweetheart. I know."
"Please, Mama… I don't want to disappoint you. I don't want you to be angry," Favour said, her voice cracking.
Faith closed her eyes. "Favour… I am your mother. You could never disappoint me enough to make me stop loving you."
A long silence followed.
"I… I just… I…" Favour stammered, and then the line went dead.
Faith sank into her chair, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. "She hung up," she said again. "My own child… she's hiding so much pain."
John placed a hand over hers. "We'll go to them. Let's not wait any longer."
Faith nodded. "Yes. We cannot wait. Truth, like childbirth, will not be delayed forever. And this… this is too heavy to carry alone."
That night, she could not sleep. She sat by the window, watching the stars flicker above, imagining her daughters somewhere close, but so far away. She prayed for courage, for love to reach them, for God to guide her words and heart when the moment came.
She thought of the years she and John had waited for their own children, of the prayers that had been answered against all odds, and of the miracle of life they had held so close.
Now, one of those miracles was facing a trial that would test them all—her, John, Favour, and Favorite.
Faith whispered into the darkness, her voice almost a prayer to the night.
"My children… may love find you before shame does. May grace meet you before fear overwhelms you."
And with that, she finally let herself cry—softly, quietly, but with all the love a mother could carry.
She knew, deep down, that the journey ahead would be painful. She knew that hearts would break. But she also knew that love, stubborn and unwavering, would not let them go.
Because truth, like life itself, could not be hidden forever.