You don’t look happy, Samuel said. I’m not sure I should be here, David admitted. Samuel frowned. What do you mean? David hesitated. If the past is still knocking, maybe I shouldn’t be walking forward yet. Samuel opened his mouth to respond, but the door opened. Joy stepped in radiant in white. For today, she said softly, “Let’s forget everything else.
” David looked at her, searching her face. He wondered what would happen if he didn’t. Outside, Mama Adana rose slowly from the bench. As the cathedral doors opened, the music began, and with every step David took toward the altar, the truth he had avoided drew closer. The morning of the wedding unfolded like a carefully rehearsed performance.
White fabric draped the cathedral walls. Flowers lined the aisle in perfect symmetry. Guests filled the pews, their whispers floating like soft echoes under the high ceiling. Everything looked exactly the way it was supposed to look. And yet, David Chibway felt as if he were walking into a room where the air was slowly running out.
As the groom’s procession began, applause rose gently. Cameras flashed, faces smiled. David’s steps were steady, but his mind was not. With each movement toward the altar, his thoughts drifted backward, away from Joyy’s radiant smile, away from the polished shoes and tailored suit, back to cracked pavements, dusty bus terminals, and a quiet old woman who asked for only $10. Mama Adana.
He scanned the cathedral unconsciously, though he told himself he wasn’t looking for her. She wouldn’t be here. Joy had made that clear. The ceremony began. Pastor Nathan Wansa spoke warmly about love, partnership, and destiny. His voice was calm, practiced reassuring. Joy stood across from David, glowing. Her hands were steady, her smile unwavering.
David tried to mirror her composure, but then movement. Near the back of the cathedral, a murmur rippled through the guests. David’s eyes shifted instinctively. An elderly woman stood just inside the doors. Her clothes were plain, her posture bent. A walking stick supported her weight. For a brief moment, she looked impossibly small beneath the towering arches. Mama Adana.
Before David could react, two security guards moved toward her. Ma’am, you’re not on the list, one whispered sharply. She nodded. I know. Then you need to leave. She did not resist. She did not argue. I will speak to him, she saidsoftly. Then I will go. That’s not possible. David watched, heart pounding as the guards reached for her arms.
Stop. His voice echoed through the cathedral. Everything froze. David stepped forward, ignoring the pastor’s startled expression, ignoring Joyy’s sudden grip on his arm. “Let her come,” he said. The guards hesitated, glancing at Joy. Joyy’s face hardened. “David, this is not the time.” David did not look at her.
