Life Of A British African Teenager | ✔️

Chapter 39- (Too late or not?)

The feeling of being back in London is laced with an eerie sadness.  Mom and I unpack and settle in the same house that caused us pain in the past. She hasn't revealed the cause for her divorce from Dad, which is a delicate thread that needs to be untangled. I enter my room, set up my things, and hang up polaroid pictures of happy moments that have been captured in time.

I indulge in a nap since I'm exhausted from the flight. I'm delighted by my friends' inquiries about my safety when I wake up to an abundance of messages from concerned friends. I diligently reply to each, sensing their words' embrace in the digital realm.

I dress casually as I go downstairs in search of food due to growing hunger. I walk in and see Dad seated opposite to Mom, which throws me off balance. I'm apprehensive to descend because of the shock of his unexpected presence.

"What's happening, Mom?" I implore, met with her quiet gaze. "Why is he here?" I add, my unease evident. I beseech Mom, "Please, I can't bear to see him. Ask him to leave."

"Leona, please sit down," Mom's voice carries a sense of calm.

"No, Mom. I won't entertain him. He's the catalyst for everything—the pain, the struggles. And now he wants to talk?" My words crackle with anger and hurt. "About what, Mom?"

He addresses me, his voice trembling with sincerity. "My baby," he utters, "Daddy is sorry for everything."

I cut him off, frustration edging my voice. "Dad, just stop. Why are you here? After two years?"

His voice trembles with remorse. "I'm sorry for leaving you and your mom, baby. I had an affair, she became pregnant, and without hesitation, I left. But now, I've learnt the child isn't mine. Leona, find it in your heart to forgive me. Both of you."

His plea hangs in the air as he exits, leaving me with my tearful, already-weakened mother. I cradle her, murmuring reassurances. "Everything will be alright, Mom."

~~~~~

As time sweeps forward, I find myself settling into the rhythm of life in London once more. My senior year of high school beckons, and the process of reintegration surprises me with its ease. New friendships have blossomed, and the tapestry of my life now includes both old and new threads. The connections across continents remain unbroken; my friends back in Ghana still hold a cherished place in my heart. Bryan's daily check-ins bring a smile to my face, his unwavering support a source of comfort. We've built a bond where sharing feels effortless.

Amidst these transitions, my mom's interior design business has taken flight, flourishing in ways that bring her pride and satisfaction. Aunt Bridgette remains a steadfast presence, bridging the geographical divide with her consistent communication. Elsie manages to bridge the distance as well. Whether she visits London during breaks or I journey to the US to see her, the essence of our friendship remains unchanged.

Then there's my dad—a figure whose evolution over time has been a surprise to us both. His dedicated efforts to mend what was broken shine through. Attending all my school programs, his daily check-ins echoing genuine care, our father-daughter outings have become cherished traditions. His newfound availability is a testament to his commitment to change, and I'm learning to forgive and appreciate.

Happiness has claimed its well-deserved place in my world, and I revel in its warmth.

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