WALKING ON WATERS CHAPTER 11

 

                           CHAPTER 11

                           YADAH'S POV

Hours had passed, but it felt like no time at all. I pressed the power button on my phone, eyes skimming over the glowing numbers on the screen, yet they meant nothing. They blurred together, as distant as everything else around me. Only his voice echoed clearly, looping in my head.

His words cut deeper each time they resurfaced.

"You deceived me."

The sharpness of his voice lingered in the air, even though he was gone. His face, twisted with hurt, the red in his eyes flaring like embers—it all replayed, vivid and unrelenting.

I hadn’t planned for Yele to find out this way. My hand rested on my still-flat stomach, my mind scrambling for a plan I should’ve had by now. The conversation with Bodisere echoed in my head.

“How do you plan to tell him?” Bodisere had asked, her eyes curious, as I sat across from her desk, excitement and fear battling inside me.

I’d laughed nervously, shifting in my seat. “I’ll tell him... I mean, I will.”

Her brow furrowed, her eyes searching mine. “You haven’t even thought about that yet, have you?”

I’d averted my gaze, fiddling with the corner of my bag. “Of course I have,” I’d lied, my voice too light, too shaky.

“Really?” Her tone had been sharp, yet kind. “You’ve planned all this, but you don’t know how to tell your husband he’s going to be a father?”

I’d felt a wave of embarrassment then, heat rising to my face. “He won’t react badly, will he?” I’d muttered, more to myself than her.

Bodisere had leaned forward, her gaze piercing through my uncertainty. “You’re not asking me. You’re hoping.”

Now, sitting on the edge of our bed, the reality of my foolishness settled in. Yele’s voice from earlier still rang in my ears, sharp and cold. My eyes drifted to the door where he’d stormed out, his anger palpable in the lingering silence of the room. The joy I had imagined sharing with him—crushed in a single moment.

I wrapped my arms around my stomach, my thumb absentmindedly tracing small circles as if I could protect our baby from the fury that had exploded. My heart clenched as the memory of his words clawed at me, his voice laced with a hurt I hadn’t anticipated.

The air felt thick with everything unsaid, and I inhaled deeply, trying to breathe through the heaviness sitting on my chest.

The weight of the moment settled heavily on me as I replayed the past two weeks in my mind, sifting through every failed plan, every attempt to tell Yele about the life growing inside me. Our baby, now almost six weeks old, nestled within my womb, and yet the right words, the right moment, still eluded me. My hand instinctively rubbed my stomach again, but nothing felt right. Everything went sideways before I could even muster up the courage.

“What if I tell him on his birthday?” I had floated the idea to Bodisere a few weeks ago, as Yele's birthday approached.

“That’s an insane idea! A terrible birthday gift," Bodisere had responded over the phone. "Not your baby, of course — the baby isn’t the problem. But springing that news on him on his birthday? No. Just don’t.”

Biting my lip, I asked, “When should I tell him then? Honestly, I don’t think he’ll make a fuss. The only reason we’ve been holding off on more kids was because of our future goals. He’s not exactly against it.”

“But what if he thinks you got pregnant because of pressure?”

I had exhaled slowly at that, relieved that at least Bodisere understood the complexity. “I thought getting pregnant was the hard part, but no. Turns out, it’s telling my husband. Maybe I’m the irrational one here, but I can’t regret this baby.”

“I just have to find a way to explain to Yele how much I wanted this,” I had said to Bodisere then, full of conviction. But now, looking back, those words felt like trying to mop up spilled milk. I knocked my temple in frustration, feeling utterly foolish. All this time, I’d been nothing more than a desperate woman caught in a web of her own making.

Placing my hand on my forehead, I tried to soothe the dull ache creeping in, but all it did was amplify the echo of his words: “You deceived me.” A deep sigh escaped my lips as I sank deeper into the edge of the bed. The room felt heavy with unspoken truths, and I could almost hear the weight of my guilt pressing against the walls.

 How had it come to this? I bit down on my fingers, a nervous habit I thought I’d shaken off. My mind raced back to that day in Bodisere’s office. I had resolved to tell him today, after all. She had insisted that revealing my news on his birthday would be insensitive, and I had reluctantly agreed. But with each passing moment, the urgency to confess grew like an unshakable itch.

The memories of our small birthday gathering flooded back, the little get-together I had planned for his birthday had been filled with some comments on how I was glowing, how I had “the look” of a pregnant woman—each remark had felt like a ticking clock, counting down to the moment I had to confess. Oyinkan, with her usual lack of subtlety, had even asked outright in front of Yele if I was pregnant. Her audacity had sent waves of panic through me, and the pressure her bold question left in my soul had been unbearable.

Today was supposed to be different. I had planned a lovely evening—just the two of us—where I could sit him down and lay everything out, no more hiding. But now, hearing his accusation, “You deceived me,” twisted like a knife in my gut, the reasons I’d convinced myself were valid now felt flimsy and selfish.

I wrapped my arms around myself, willing the world to quiet, the shadows of my intentions swirling chaotically around me.

“So, I’m going to tell him today. I’ve decided—today,” I’d said to Bodisere over the phone earlier, pacing within the confines of our bedroom. My voice had wavered just a little, but I forced confidence into it. “You saw how everyone at the party kept going on about me glowing like a pregnant woman.”

Bodisere’s laughter crackled through the speaker, though it felt distant, her usual reassurance not quite landing the way I hoped. “What do you mean ‘everybody’? It was just a few people, and that loudmouthed friend of yours, Oyinkan. One of the reasons I’ve never been a big fan of hers,” she replied, her tone edged with her typical disapproval of Oyinkan. But today wasn’t the day to delve into that.

“Some people, everyone—it's all the same,” I retorted hastily, anxiety prickling at the back of my mind.

As I sat down on the edge of the bed, I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror—still glowing, still carrying the weight of a secret too heavy to keep. The room, usually a place of comfort, now felt like it was closing in on me with each second I delayed telling Yele the truth.

I twirled the hem of my shirt, my mind running through every scenario, every possible reaction he could have. But none of them prepared me for the moment ahead.

“Baby girl, calm down. So, how do you plan to tell him? Could you run me through the plan script, if you don’t mind?” Bodisere’s voice had shifted to a serious tone, cutting through my racing thoughts.

I hesitated, the weight of her question settling over me like a thick fog. The plan? A script? Do I even have one? Yeah, I do. I quickly rambled about the simple date I had arranged for us, nervously pacing around the room.

"Then later, I’ll just tell him. I’ll tell him everything," I said, my voice shrinking like a child confessing to sneaking candy from her mother’s purse.

“One sec—what exactly are you going to say? I mean, how are you going to say it?” Bodisere pressed, her voice slicing through my fragile resolve. If only she hadn’t asked me to rehearse it out loud. If only I hadn’t recited those words aloud ... 

“Baby, what did you just say?” Yele’s voice cut through the air like a thunderclap, freezing me in place. He stood at the doorway, eyes narrowing in disbelief, catching the very words I had been turning over in my mind, as if I’d summoned them into reality.

I turned slowly, my heart crashing against my chest. Everything unraveled in that instant—the careful plan, the timing, the hope that I could ease him into the truth. All of it shattered in the wake of his question, hanging heavy in the air between us.

Yele’s voice cracked through the air, his words sharp with disbelief. “What do you mean you’re pregnant? Did I hear that right?”

My breath caught in my throat. I tried to steady myself, but the words tumbled out in a soft, shaky whisper. “I can explain, babe.”

His eyes flared with confusion, his posture rigid as he took a step closer, hands planted firmly on his hips. “Explain? We had an IUD, you had an IUD. What do you mean by pregnancy?” His voice, once bewildered, was growing taut, the realization creeping into his face. 

I could feel my heart racing as I dropped the phone, Bodisere’s voice disappearing into silence. “I can explain,” I stammered again, grasping for anything to make this right.

His nostrils flared, veins visible along his neck as he faced me, his hands trembling at his sides. “Don’t make me believe what’s going through my head right now is true. Did you have it removed?” His voice cracked, straddling the line between anger and hurt, as his eyes pleaded for a different answer, one that wouldn’t betray the trust between us.

The silence weighed heavy. His eyes bore into mine, searching for a flicker of something that could undo what was already unfolding. I could see the desperation in his eyes, the hope flickering behind them that I would say something to make this all a mistake, a misunderstanding. I wanted to lie, to weave some story about a medical error, a malfunction with the IUD. The thought danced on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it back. Lying would only make it worse, and deep down, I knew that.

My throat tightened as the truth pressed against my lips. It was heavy, crushing. 

“Yes,” I whispered, the word barely escaping my lips, fragile and small.

The air between us seemed to shatter. Yele’s face twisted, hurt colliding with fury as the truth settled in, a truth neither of us could undo.

"Why did you do it?" His words came out barely louder than a whisper, but they cut through the air like ice, chilling me to the bone.

I opened my mouth to answer, but the weight of his question pressed down on me. It wasn’t just the words themselves—it was the disappointment laced in his voice, the shock in his eyes. I could see the way his shoulders slumped ever so slightly, like the strength had been drained out of him.

“Because… because I wanted it,” I whispered, my hands trembling as I avoided his gaze, my eyes finding the floor.

Yele’s brows knit together, confusion etched in every line of his face. “Wanted what?” His voice, though calm, carried a weight that made my heart sink.

I swallowed hard, the words caught in my throat, but they tumbled out anyway. “I wanted a baby. Our baby.” The air between us thickened, and suddenly everything I’d held back—Aunt Ibiyemi’s sharp comments, the whispers, the stares—rushed out like a dam breaking. “I couldn’t take it anymore, Yele. The pressure… the words... all of it. I just wanted...”

I stopped, my breath coming in shallow gasps as if the weight of my confession had knocked the wind out of me.

Yele’s silence was worse than any anger. He just stood there, arms folded, staring at me like I’d turned into someone he didn’t recognize. His jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing.

“Wow.” The word escaped his lips, slow and deliberate, like he was forcing himself to speak. “You’re saying this… because of them? You let their voices get to you? You let them push you into this?” His voice remained calm, but his body stiffened, every muscle tense.

I opened my mouth to explain, but the words died before they could form.

“And you...” he continued, his voice growing tighter, harsher, “you deceived me. You went behind my back. We decided together, Yadah. Together.”

The air between us shifted, heavy and thick. His hands fell to his sides, and his eyes—those eyes that once held warmth—looked at me as if I’d shattered something precious between us.

“I trusted you.” His voice cracked, just slightly. “But you deceived me.”

The words hung in the room like a dark cloud, pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

“You got what you wanted,” he said, his voice now cold, cutting. “But you have no idea what you’ve just done.”

With that, he turned sharply, the door swinging open before slamming shut behind him. The sound echoed in the silence, leaving me standing there, my hands still trembling, his words—you deceived me—repeating over and over in my head like a cruel mantra.

                        YELE'S POV

I flung my phone across the passenger seat, the screen flashing briefly before going dark. My chest heaved, breath uneven from the rage still burning in my veins. I had just ended a call with Bodisere, Yadah's cousin—our gynecologist, no less. The only thing I hadn’t told her was that I would sue and have her license revoked. But I made sure she understood every ounce of my anger, every word laced with the betrayal I felt.

I gripped the steering wheel, my fingers curling so tightly that the tendons in my hands strained against my skin. A bitter smile tugged at my lips as I stared at the blurred city lights ahead. None of it mattered now. Not the road. Not the night. Not the memories swirling in my mind.

             Yadah.

She had been so different this past month—gentle, attentive. But now I saw it for what it was: a cruel setup.

I let out a sharp breath, the weight of it all pressing down on my chest. Every tender touch, every carefully placed smile—it wasn’t love. It was manipulation. She wanted to be a mother, and I was just a tool in her hands.

I let out a sharp breath, the weight of it all pressing down on my chest. Every tender touch, every carefully placed smile—it wasn’t love. It was manipulation. She wanted to be a mother, and I was just a tool in her hands.

My fist slammed into the dashboard, the thud dull but satisfying in the quiet car. My jaw clenched so hard I thought it might crack, the image of her removing the IUD behind my back seared into my mind. Cold. Calculated.

The taste of blood filled my mouth as I bit down on my lip, hard. How could I have been so blind? How could she have done this?

Yadah had no idea what she’d just set in motion. None at all.

The thought of her, belly swollen with life, flashed before my eyes. My chest tightened. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, the fabric of my shirt suddenly clinging to my damp back. Sweat pricked at my forehead, and I wiped at it with the back of my hand.

The image of a baby bump, growing every day, twisted something deep in me. I couldn’t breathe. My grip on the steering wheel loosened as my palms grew slick with sweat, the very idea of it making my stomach churn. I blinked hard, trying to shake the image away, but it clung stubbornly, taunting me.

What if she ends up like her? The thought hit me hard. One moment, walking into the hospital on her own feet, and the next… drawn out on a stretcher, eyes closed to the world—just like her.

My stomach turned violently, bile rising in my throat. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the image, but it lingered, sharp and merciless. My chest tightened, my breathing shallow. I gripped the steering wheel as if it could somehow steady me, but the thought had already wormed its way into my mind.

Everything I’d been trying to save her from... she had dragged us both straight into. There was no escaping it now.