When I woke the next morning, sunlight streamed through soft curtains I didn’t recognize. For a moment, I panicked. Where was I? Then the memory of last night returned—the cold street, the stranger, the food, the quiet apartment.

My eyes immediately searched for Chimamkpam. Relief washed over me when I found him still asleep beside me, his lips twitching with tiny dreams.

A knock on the door made me jump. “Calista?” Max’s calm, steady voice came through.

I pulled the blanket tighter. “Y-yes?”

“Breakfast is ready. Come out whenever you’re comfortable.” He didn’t wait for a reply, just walked away.

I hesitated, then gathered my son and stepped into the living room. Max was seated at the dining table, neatly dressed for work. Plates of toast, eggs, and tea waited on the table.

“You didn’t have to—” I began.

“You need to eat,” he interrupted gently. “Sit.”

I obeyed, awkward, feeling like a trespàsser.

Halfway through the meal, he spoke. “You can stay here as long as you need. Don’t worry about Jude. Don’t worry about anyone. Just focus on healing.”

I lowered my gaze, repeating his words in my head to be sure I’d heard him right. Then I looked up slowly, still forcing myself not to believe too quickly. “Why… are you doing this for me? What if people talk? Say I’m… a temptàtion?”

His lips twitched in a dry smile. “People will always talk. But I know who I am. And I know who you are—not a temptâtion, but a woman who deserves help.”

His words pierced something inside me. I looked away quickly.

Before leaving for work, he placed an envelope on the table. “There’s some money inside. Buy what you need for yourself and the baby. I’ll also arrange a monthly stipend for you. And when the time is right, I’ll send you back to school.”

I stared at him, stunned. “School? Me?”

“Yes.” His eyes were firm. “Calista, your life didn’t end because you married Jude. You still have a future. You’ll see.”

When he left, I sat at the table with the envelope in my hand and cried silently. Not from pity, but because I felt hope again. A fragile hope of a new beginning.

Yet I guarded my heart. People can change suddenly from good to bad. I was a living example of that.

Weeks passed. I stayed indoors, avoiding Jude’s house like a plague. Max respected my silence. He never asked for anything in return. Instead, he stocked the house with food, bought clothes for me and Chimamkpam, and gave me space to breathe.

Sometimes, when I caught my reflection in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. My face was still tired, but color had returned to my cheeks. My baby grew stronger too, his cries full and healthy.

Then one afternoon, something unexpected happened.

I was folding laundry when the front door opened. Max walked in—but he wasn’t alone. Beside him was a tall, beautiful woman dragging a suitcase.

“Calista,” he called, “this is my wife, Kemi.”

My body froze. His wife? My mind raced—what would she think, finding another woman in her home? Why hadn’t Max told me? Would she açcuse me of trying to take her husband?

I realized I’d been silent too long. My voice shook as I stammered, “I… I can explain, ma. Please don’t misunderstand—”

But Kemi rushed forward and hugged me. “Calista!” she exclaimed warmly. “I’ve heard so much about you. Finally, we meet!”

I blinked. “You… you know about me?”

“Of course.” She smiled softly. “Max told me everything. In fact, I was the one who insisted he take you in that night. You don’t need to explain anything. You’re safe here.”

Shòck nearly made me còllapse. “You’re not angry?” I whispered.

She laughed lightly. “Angry? At what? You’re like my younger sister now. Please, relax.” She reached for Chimamkpam, who blinked up at her with wide, curious eyes. “Ah, look at this handsome boy! Hello, sweetie.”

Relief spread through my body. I looked up at the ceiling and whispered a prayer of thanks for God’s obvious hand in changing my life.

Then I turned to Kemi and whispered shakily, “Thank you.” She touched my cheek gently. “Don’t thank me. Just focus on healing. From now on, you’re not alone.”

True to her word, Kemi became my closest friend. She carried Chimamkpam when I needed rest. She dragged me to the mall, insisting I buy clothes that made me look alive.

“Calista,” she would say, holding up a dress, “your body carried life. Don’t hide it behind rags. Shine, my dear.”

Sometimes I laughed for the first time in years. Other times, I cried quietly at night—tears of gratitude.

One evening, Kemi sat me down. “Have you ever thought of learning a skill? Something you love?” I hesitated. “I always liked cooking. People say my food tastes different. But… I don’t know if I can—”

“You can,” she cut in firmly. “Max and I will enroll you in catering school. You’ll have something to call your own.” I covered my mouth with my hands. “You’d do that… for me?”

“Of course.” She grinned. “One day, you’ll look back and realize this was your beginning, not your end.”

For the first time in years, I believed it. That night, lying beside my son, I whispered to God: “Maybe You didn’t abandon me after all. Maybe You sent Max and Kemi as angels.”

The chains of misery were loosening. Slowly, threads of hope were weaving into my life. I could only pray the journey ahead would remain smooth.