The Broken Woman: Unspoken mystery by Blossom Obi | @BlossomObi3

Black woman hugging her knees

Perplexed, Mr Brownson stood up pacing down the hall way that leads to the emergency unit. Impatiently waiting for news from the Doctor, sweat greased his forehead despite the strong air conditioning in the building. He had never felt so miserable and helpless before.

“Everything is under control sir, you need to calm yourself”, one of the nurses said, as soon as she saw Mr Brownson. She took him to an open room where other people also awaited news on the current medical state of their loved ones.

“She doesn’t understand,”, Mr Brownson thought to himself. “I can’t be calm, there’s yet to be any news on my Wife and the baby we’re expecting”, he muttered further as he stared deeply into a frame that held the president’s picture. His mind was filled with thoughts, memories of how he had met his wife and how life had been for him then.

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“My life had no meaning until I met Caroline,” He muttered. “Everything I am today I owe it to her,” he continued, facing the wall as if it had ears.


“Finally, I would see her,” he said as he stood up hastily and follow the nurse who had came to fetch him. He got more tensed as he approached the door.

He went numb a little on seeing her, despite her pale face drenched in sweat and tire, she was still beautiful with her high cheekbones and sharp-cut jawline. Caroline’s state did no justice to her bronzed skin. She looked like a shadow of herself.

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A tear rolled down her cheeks as she saw him, the way he examined her body She finally spoke, reaching for his hands. That was when she said it.

“if it comes to choosing between I and the baby, save our baby”, Her eyes were pleading with him to oblige her that one last time.

He couldn’t find the simplest ‘yes’ or ‘no’, not even a nod was okay for him.

“Promise me” she said again as faint as her weakness could carry, but the repeatation pitched it as if there was a banging soundtrack in it.. He succumbed and nodded, not so sure if his voice was still intact.

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“Stella” Caroline said placing her hands on her stomach. Mr Brownson looked at her, uncertain of what she meant. “Her name is Stella.” She reached for his hands and placed it on her stomach.

“What Gift you think would be suitable for Stella, I’m thinking of getting her a car when she turns eighteen,” Mr Brownson asked the house keeper Mama Jane, who spent most of her time with Stella. Mama Jane practically raised her.

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“Your time and attention would suffice, Sir” Mama Jane stated. “…that would do it because as much as you get her all she needs, she still wants to spend time with you. You don’t even really know much about her”

“I’m a busy man, and I have to do my best to make sure she’s very comfortable in life”. He replied to Mama Jane.

“That was not the whole truth”, Mr Brownson told himself. Stella reminded him so much of his late wife that he felt like breaking down into irreplaceable pieces any time he was around her.


Maybe that was selfish, “it was a necessary evil”, he concluded.

Loud music played in the compound with young people screaming in excitement at the game that was being played. Stella was happy but something was missing, her mum. She had never felt her mum’s absence as she did that day.

Mama Jane knew. She hugged Stella tight as Stella began to cry. The woman did not know what to say, so she just held her as Stella poured her heart out in tears.

Stay Afloat
Many of the things we go through are not really what we want out of life but we still go through it anyway. We must realize that we are made of so much more than we think or choose to understand. So, we must choose to transform whatever sadness we’re feeling into something positive and beautiful, just as the inner person who is waiting to sprout from the depths of our true being, to receive life and to give a greater purpose to our being.

Blossom Obi writes from Owerri, Imo State. For comments and responses, reach her via

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