Yet to Know [MORE CHAPTERS LOADING...]

- 32 -

SAMANTHA's POV

My biological mother is a petite woman with caramel-colored skin, bright, big eyes, and plump lips. She is thirty-six years old. She had me when she was twenty, but her parents were against her love for an unemployed undergraduate. Regardless, their love persevered through all obstacles, and now they stand in front of me married with two children. My biological father is tall—I must have gotten my height from him. I have his features: an athletic body, the same dentition, smoky eyes framed with long lashes, and small lips. I also inherited his light brown skin color.

My lips are pressed tight as Mr. Freddy, Daniel's dad, introduces me to them. Their eyes are clouded with tears as they cover the distance between us with large strides. Soon, I'm enveloped in their embrace as they wail, expressing their joy.

"My baby," my biological mom, Mrs. George, says. She pulls away and looks into my eyes. "My baby!" She drops to the floor and cries, her shoulders shaking with each gasp she takes. My eyes grow moist, and I join the crying. After a few minutes of tears, we go into their apartment. It's a cozy place. My parents love nature, and their interior design is inspired by it—lots of flowerpots, butterfly patterns, and decorative leaves. I have two younger brothers: Alfred, the first son, is ten years old, and Winner is seven. They share my mother's skin color and have their father's eyes. They are irresistibly cute, but I can tell they are playful and headstrong. They make quite a noise, blowing whistles they had stolen from their dad's room. My heart leaps with joy when I discover that my father is a football coach at two Nigerian universities.

We stand in the corridor as he says, "So you play football?"

"I love football," I respond, my voice steady.

His lips curve into a broad smile, and I mirror it. "That's amazing. You wouldn't mind playing with me, would you?"

"I would be happy to."

"Amazing." He smirks. "I would like to see how good you are."

"I might be the best player you've ever met," I say with confidence.

"If you're not in a hurry, we could play a match now."

My jaw drops. While I'm still trying to process this newfound reality about my birth, I feel at home with this family. I don’t mind calling them my parents. They may be an average family, but wealth can’t give me the motherly love I’ve deeply desired. After just one hour here, I’ve felt so much love from my mother that my heart swells with joy. I want more of it. And now, my dad wants to play football with me? I have always dreamed of this moment but I never thought it would come true.

"If you don't want to play, it's okay. We can do that next time."

"I want to," I squeal, slapping my hands over my mouth, my voice echoing down the corridor.

"Let's go!" he says, chuckling. The match begins, and Mr. Freddy joins the fun. Not long after, my brothers shuffle into the game. We all play energetically, keep our movement in check to avoid destroying anything in the compound.
When lunch is ready, we gather around the table. As we eat, I share my dreams and talk about my current academic journey. My dad listens intently, then tells me that he can recommend me to a women’s football team so I can play in the upcoming competition. He hopes I’ll win and get a scholarship, and he even offers to coach me, his voice filled with excitement and pride. "That's my girl!" he exclaims. After the lively conversation and shared laughter, I return home with Mr. Freddy, feeling a warmth from the time spent with my newfound family.

Later, I sit with Daniel, reliving every detail of my day. As I recount the experience, a smile never leaves my face. Daniel listens, his eyes lighting up as if he’s living the moment with me.