Once upon a time in the heart of Victoria Island, there lived a woman named Naomi Adelch. She was the kind of woman people stopped to stare at when she walked into a room. Not just because she was beautiful, but because she carried herself like a queen. Tall, light-skinned, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that never smiled.
Naomi always wore designer clothes and never repeated an outfit twice. She lived in a white mansion surrounded by guards, flowers, and a tall black gate that never opened for strangers. People said she was heartless. They said she had no family, no friends, no one she trusted, just money. But that was not the case. Naomi’s world changed after her husband had died a few months ago, and they never had children.
Since then, she worked, traveled, and came home to silence. She had only one friend, Michelle, who had been her biggest supporter since their childhood. But that life was about to change. One fateful afternoon, Naomi sat in the back seat of her black Range Rover on her way back from the hospital after visiting her friend Michelle, who had just given birth.
Her driver, Matthew, was moving slowly through traffic. He glanced at the rear view mirror. Madam, should I take the lucky shortcut? This traffic might hold us till night. Naomi didn’t answer at first. She was lost in her thoughts. The thought of Michelle’s baby in her arms filled her mind, which made her remember her dream of becoming a mother. She sighed and said softly.
Go through Ozumba. I don’t care if it takes 2 hours. “Yes, Ma,” Matthew said and turned the steering wheel. Then the car stopped. A red traffic light ahead blinked. Matthew was about to comment on the jam when Naomi raised her head slightly. “What’s that?” she said, squinting through the window. Matthew looked too.
What’s what, Ma? There, near that pole. That lady Matthew turned and saw a woman dressed like a mad woman sitting by the roadside barefoot holding two small babies, one in each arm. The babies were wrapped in what looked like old faded rags. Their clothes were dirty. Their cries were faint but sharp, even through the glass.
She sat beside the road holding a piece of newspaper to try to cover the babies from the hot sun. Matthew frowned. They’re always doing this begging trick. Ma, some of them even rent babies. But Naomi wasn’t listening. Her eyes were fixed on the baby’s faces. Something about them made her chest feel tight.
She leaned forward as if getting a closer look would explain what her brain couldn’t. She whispered, “Those eyes.” The left twin lifted his face briefly. His eyes were hazel, the same rare light brown color as her late husband’s. It couldn’t be, Naomi thought. She blinked. Maybe it was the thought of the babies she had just seen at the hospital that made her emotional or her mind playing games.
