Chapter 102: Thankwu Mummy
Five years later, Mira sat in the cozy warmth of her grandfather’s apartment, watching as her little daughter, Zami, twirled excitedly, the soft fabric of her new birthday dress floating around her. Mira had chosen the dress carefully, wanting her daughter to feel beautiful, loved, and celebrated.
Zami’s face glowed with pure joy, and her giggles filled the room as she admired herself in the dress. She looked so happy, her dark eyes wide with innocence and wonder. Mira couldn’t help but smile, feeling a bittersweet warmth in her heart as she watched Zami.
These past years had been anything but simple. Leaving her life behind, escaping the home she once shared with Zamian, and convincing her grandfather to let her stay—all of it had been a delicate process. Her grandfather had been confused and hesitant at first, especially when he saw her with Zami. He had asked about the child and how she came to have a daughter, and Mira had carefully crafted her story to avoid the full truth. She had told him that she and Zamian had agreed to a divorce, that they had gone their separate ways, and that she had come home to start a new life for herself and her child. That explanation had been partially true, and it had been enough to calm her grandfather’s initial questions.
But the real story was much more complicated. Mira had not simply left; she had escaped. She remembered that day with both relief and sadness—the overwhelming urge to protect her daughter had finally overridden her hesitation and fears. She knew Zamian’s resources and influence would make it impossible to stay in the same country without him finding her, so she had left quietly, taking only what was necessary and leaving no trace. Her heart had been torn, but the thought of Zami growing up in a loveless home, surrounded by strangers or nannies who couldn’t give her the warmth she needed, pushed her to act.
She had taken her daughter and crossed borders, driven by a fierce determination to give Zami a life filled with love. Mira knew she wasn’t perfect, and she knew she couldn’t provide the same luxuries Zami might have had in Zamian’s home. But she was confident that what she could give was something far more valuable: a mother’s love and undivided attention. For Zami, Mira wanted to be everything she had missed in her own childhood—someone who cherished her, who made her feel safe, and who would always be there, no matter what.
"Happy birthday, my little sweetheart," Mira whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she watched her daughter twirl one last time before stopping to face her. Zami’s cheeks were flushed with excitement, and her bright smile seemed to light up the whole room.
Zami looked up at her, her eyes wide with wonder. "Mommy, this dress is so pretty! Thank you!" She ran to Mira, wrapping her small arms around her mother’s waist, burying her face against Mira’s chest. Mira closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of her daughter’s warmth. She held Zami close, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
"I’m so glad you like it, my love," Mira murmured, pulling back just enough to look at her daughter’s face. Zami’s eyes sparkled as she looked up at Mira, a picture of innocent joy and love. In those deep, dark eyes, Mira could see traces of Zamian, and it sent a pang through her heart. Zami had inherited Zamian’s intense gaze and soft brown hair, features that made it impossible for Mira to fully escape thoughts of him. The resemblance was undeniable, but where Zamian’s eyes had been guarded and unreadable, Zami’s were open and filled with light.
The irony of her escape still lingered in Mira’s mind. She had left on the very day Zamian had planned to surprise her, a day that had been marked by strange coincidences. James, one the other hand, had left for errands that morning, and Mira seized the unexpected opportunity. She had told only one person of her plan—Nana, her trusted confidante—but even then, she had been vague, mentioning only that she was "going out" and would "come back later." She hadn’t told Nana she wouldn’t be returning, knowing that the less she said, the better. If Zamian asked Nana, which he likely would, she hoped Nana’s limited knowledge would buy her some time.