The morning sun bathed the courtyard of Orbit International High School in a golden glow. The gates stood tall and imposing, a symbol of a fresh chapter in a life that had long been buried in darkness. Zaria stepped across the threshold for the first time, her crisp new uniform brushing softly against her legs. The air was charged with promise — a chance for belonging, a chance for renewal.
The school felt like another world, bustling with students laughing, whispering, and carrying their books with an air of purpose. The corridors were adorned with colorful murals and hopeful slogans, reminding every student that within these walls, anything was possible.
As Zaria entered her classroom, a shy smile surfaced. The teacher introduced her to the class, and soon enough, a warm voice called from a nearby desk. "Hey, new girl. Come sit here!" It was a girl named Esther, bright-eyed and smiling, making space for Zaria.
Zaria sank down beside her, brushing her fingers across the surface of the desk. It felt like a fresh page — one upon which she could write a better future. The sting of the past felt a little softer in that moment, and she smiled shyly at the girl beside her.
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Meanwhile, At Home
Back at the house, Sally stood at the window, gazing out at the morning light. The sound of quiet footsteps announced Angela's presence. She set down two cups of tea on the table and sank into a chair, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. The room felt subdued, weighed down by thoughts unspoken for too long.
After a moment, Angela spoke, breaking the silence. "Sally… can I ask you something?"
He glanced at her and smiled faintly. "Of course, Angela. You can ask me anything."
She drew in a slow breath and placed her hands together in her lap. "Why have you never confronted Beatrice about Zaria? Never asked her why she abandoned her? Never tried to understand why she refused to acknowledge the child she gave birth to?"
Sally sank down into the chair opposite her, brushing a hand down his tired face. The question felt like a stone thrown into still water, sending ripples across the surface of old wounds.
"Beatrice," he began quietly, "is my wife. And she has been for many years. But long ago, long before I came into the picture as a husband, she was Zaria's mother. That didn't mean she acted like one."
Angela watched him closely as he spoke, brushing a hand across the table as if to ground herself. "Go on," she encouraged softly.
Sally sighed deeply, brushing a hand across his chin. "Beatrice abandoned Zaria when she was just two years old. Left her with a man she claimed was her 'ex.' Left the little girl with no mother, no protection, no chance. And when I met Beatrice later, she spoke about her past as if it was buried forever. She said Zaria had died. That the man she was with had been beating her, that she gave birth to a girl and lost her soon after. She swore she was gone."
Angela shook her head slowly, brushing a hand across her mouth. "That's… that's what she said?"
Sally nodded. "That was her version of the story. But the truth came to light much later. When Zaria came into my life broken and nearly destroyed, when I learned about the poison, the beating, the rape… I knew the truth. Beatrice had left her, refused to acknowledge her. Even when Zaria tried reaching out, even when she was younger and tried writing letters to her mother, Beatrice refused to respond. Refused to open the door when her own daughter came calling for help."
A heavy silence fell between them. The air felt charged with heartbreak and betrayal.
Angela pressed a hand to her chest, voice shaking. "How can a mother do that? To forget the cries of the child she brought into this world?"
Sally sank deeper into the chair, brushing a hand across the back of his neck. "I asked myself that every night. When Zaria came to us, when I first held her tiny hand and felt how fragile she was, I wondered how Beatrice could have turned her back. But I also promised myself that I would be the one to give her a chance. To save her from a world that refused to acknowledge her worth."
Angela wiped a quiet tear from the corner of her eye, brushing a hand across the table towards him. "That's why you've taken this role… Why you've refused to walk away from Zaria when others would have abandoned her?"
Sally smiled faintly and drew in a deep breath. "Exactly. Whatever Beatrice refused to be, I chose to become. Not because I owe it to Beatrice, but because I owe it to Zaria. To a little girl who came into this world and was refused by the one person meant to protect her."
He sank into silence for a moment, brushing a hand down the surface of the table. "Even now, Beatrice knows about Zaria being mistreated. And she knows the hell that girl have been through. Yet she choses not to care.
Angela pressed a hand to her heart, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. "That's a burden you've chosen to bear for both of them. But it makes you more than a stepfather, Sally. It makes you the father Zaria always needed. The one she can run to when the world turns dark."
Sally smiled faintly, brushing a hand down the side of the chair. "That's all I want. To give Zaria the chance to rise. To walk into Orbit International High School and write her own story. To give her the belonging she was refused, the love she was denied."
Angela rose from her chair and stepped closer, brushing a hand down his shoulder. "That's why this chapter of her life will be different. Whatever Beatrice chose to bury, you have chosen to raise and nurture. Whatever she refused to acknowledge, you have embraced and cherished. And that makes you more than her stepfather, Sally. It makes you the father Zaria can call her own."
Sally smiled then — a rare, quiet smile that spoke of scars and strength, of a man choosing grace over betrayal, belonging over abandonment. Together, he and Angela stood for a moment, bathed in the morning light. Together, they promised themselves and the world that Zaria would rise, no matter how deep the fall had been.
Through the gates of Orbit International High School, Zaria stepped into a future she had long been denied. In the quiet room where a man and a woman stood, bound by a shared resolve, a new chapter was being written — one where the forgotten child would no longer walk alone.