Chapter Seven: When the Truth Finally Speaks
The drive to the city was heavy with silence.
Faith sat in the backseat, her hands folded tightly in her lap. John's hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, his jaw set. Neither spoke. Words would not ease the tension, and neither wanted to break the fragile quiet with assumptions.
Faith's mind wandered, replaying every phone call, every pause, every tremor in her daughters' voices. She could almost hear the hidden weight in Favour's words—the secret she carried alone.
"John…" she whispered, her voice trembling slightly.
He glanced at her through the rearview mirror. "We're almost there."
Faith nodded, her throat tight. She wanted to run from the truth, but a mother knows when she must face it, no matter how heavy it is.
When they reached the university compound, Faith noticed how alive the campus was with students moving in every direction. But for her, the air was thick, heavy with anticipation. She could feel her heartbeat in her ears, loud enough to drown out the laughter of passing students.
John parked the car and both stepped out, walking up the stairs toward the dormitory. Faith clutched her bag as if holding onto it would somehow protect her. Favorite opened the door cautiously when she heard the knock.
"They're here," she whispered to Favour, whose hand trembled as she gripped the edge of her bed.
Favour looked up, panic in her eyes. "Mama?" she whispered.
"Yes," Favorite said softly. "They're both here."
For a long moment, no one moved. Faith's eyes, sharp yet gentle, scanned the room. She noticed the small details first—the pallor of Favour's skin, the way her hands trembled slightly, the protective way she held her stomach. Her heart clenched.
Then, Faith spoke, her voice soft but firm. "Favour… my child…"
Favour froze. Her legs shook. She tried to stand but could not. Her chest heaved as if every word she wanted to say had lodged in her throat.
Faith stepped closer, gently, slowly, careful not to frighten her. And in that step, in that moment, everything changed.
She saw it. Not immediately, not fully—but enough. A subtle change in her daughter's figure. A fullness, a weight, that only a mother could recognize.
Her breath caught. She had known, even before the phone calls, that something had been hidden. But seeing it—real, undeniable—made her chest ache in a way she could not have imagined.
John's face mirrored her shock, though he tried to hide it behind a deep exhale.
Favour's voice broke the silence. "Mama… I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "I didn't want you to find out like this."
Faith moved quickly, faster than Favour expected, pulling her into her arms. "Stand," Faith said firmly. "My daughter does not kneel before me."
Favour collapsed, letting herself be held, sobbing quietly into the shoulder of the mother she had both feared and loved.
Faith's tears fell silently, one by one, sliding into her daughter's hair. She held Favour tightly, memorizing the shape of her shoulders, the way her body shook, the way her hands gripped desperately at her mother's clothes.
"I felt it," Faith whispered hoarsely. "I felt it when you stopped calling, when your laughter changed, when Favorite's voice trembled with rehearsed words. I knew, deep down, something was wrong."
"I was scared, Mama," Favour choked out. "I thought… maybe if I hid it long enough, it would go away."
Faith cupped her daughter's face. "Favour… life does not work that way. Secrets, shame… they cannot keep love away. You do not carry this alone anymore. You never did."
Favorite stepped forward, her own eyes wet with tears. "Mama… I tried to help her. I didn't want you to be hurt. We both were scared."
Faith looked from Favorite to Favour. "You two carried this in silence. I am not angry at you for being afraid. I am angry at the world that teaches my daughters to fear love and forgiveness."
Favour sobbed openly now. "Mama… he… he doesn't want the baby. He sent me away."
John stepped closer, his voice steady but heavy. "Who is responsible?"
Favour flinched. "I… I made a mistake."
Faith's heart ached, breaking and healing in the same instant. She held both her daughters, letting them cry into her.
"You will always be my child," she whispered. "Mistakes do not change that. You are still my daughter, my love, my blood. And this family… we do not abandon each other."
Favour's cries turned into quiet sobs, her body shaking. Favorite rested her head against Faith's shoulder.
John finally spoke again. "We will face this. Together. No one is alone here."
Faith nodded, her own tears falling freely now. "Yes. We will face this. And God will guide us."
That night, after the initial shock had passed, the four of them sat together in silence. Faith stroked Favour's hair gently. Favorite held her hand. John's presence was steady, strong, comforting.
Faith whispered a quiet prayer, not for answers, not for blame, but for strength. "Lord," she said softly, "give us courage. Let love guide us through this, even when hearts are breaking."
Favour, feeling the warmth of her family around her, allowed herself to relax just a little. For the first time in months, she did not feel entirely alone.
"I will protect you, Mama," Favorite whispered. "And I will help my sister, no matter what."
Faith smiled faintly through her tears. "You have already done so much. And you will continue. That is what family does. That is what love does."
The truth had finally spoken.
It had shattered hearts.
It had drawn tears.
But in that shattering, love refused to leave. It settled around them, quiet but steadfast, reminding them that no matter the mistakes, no matter the fear, family endures.
And that night, in a small room filled with soft cries, trembling, and whispered reassurances, Faith realized that even through pain, even through mistakes and shame, love was not lost.
Because a mother's love—deep, stubborn, unending—would always find her children, no matter how far they tried to hide.