The end of her master's degree distanced Furaha from Adisa. Although her husband tried to be very present in their married life, his research, lectures and interviews took up a lot of her time. She tried not to put too much pressure on him, as he was already under a lot of pressure from his professional demands.

  Her belly was growing and, at the same time, she felt her wife's health declining. Her desire to have a child prevented her from declaring her uncomfortable state. Every time Adisa asked about her state of health, or how the pregnancy was going, she always hid her pain, sudden weakness and high blood pressure spikes.

  At nine months pregnant, she felt like her sac was going to rupture at any moment. Adisa arrived home after a long journey to the University of Cape Town in South Africa. She had attended a conference on clean and renewable energy.

  Furaha was lying on the sofa. She had huge dark circles under her eyes and pale skin. She was nothing like the woman he had married. He felt his wife was more irritable than usual. She had looked sickly a few weeks ago. He wasn't the most sensitive man when it came to these matters, but he decided to ask one more time.

  “Isn't it time you went to the doctor again?”

  “You'll be given the same medication, you'll need more rest, less stress, blablabla.”

  Adisa smiled. She was playing tough. The scientist approached his wife, knelt on the floor and put his face against her belly. With his fingertips, he stroked his wife's shiny belly.

  “Hello, is anyone home?”

  “Akachi's been kicking all morning.”

  “Akachi? We haven't decided on the baby's name yet.”

  “I've decided!”

  “Ah! You decided something important all by yourself?”

  “It was Grandpa Azekel's suggestion, it means 'The Hand of God', I like it.”

  Adisa's face closed as his wife let out a loud laugh that made his stomach flutter.

  “You and my father conspired to choose the baby's name. I've never felt so betrayed.”

  “Hihihihi, stop it! Don't make me laugh like that, silly.”

  “I thought that for a big boy, your belly would get bigger.”

  “Of course, if it was a girl my belly would be twice as big. Boys take up less space.”

  “That's completely illogical, I doubt there's any scientific evidence for it.”

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  As he said this, Adisa began to kiss his wife's face and neck. The sparse beard tickled her neck. She had another fit of laughter.

  “Stop it! Don't make me laugh like that, it makes me want to pee, hihihihihi.”

  ?

  The evaluation panel for her master's thesis included five professors. Two of them were from the Royal University of Ilu Nla, and another two were visiting professors, one from the International University of Science and Technology in Botswana, and the other from the University of Nairobi.

  Adisa passed with full marks and made a good impression on the academics. It was supposed to be a night of celebration, but as the minutes were being signed, someone ran into the room where the dissertation defense was taking place. The messenger's countenance worried Adisa.

  “Mr. Adisa…”

  His silence was already a sign of something bad; it was as if, in the absence of words, the bad news could shout.

  “What is it, tell me?”

  “It's your wife, sir. The regional hospital called. Mrs. Furaha was taken to the regional hospital by your father Azekel.”

  Adisa gasped. The bag had ruptured when he wasn't at home. He had asked his father to visit his wife constantly, a correct decision.

  “She's fine, isn't she?”

  “You'd better go, she's asked me to go there herself.”

  The celebratory mood gave way to enormous tension. Adisa left the room without saying goodbye. She felt a great tightness in her chest. It was guilt, she believed she should be there when she needed her. Now she was there, alone, giving birth to her son in a risky pregnancy.

  That was the kind of thing that her degrees and accumulated knowledge couldn't help. It was real life happening right before her eyes. It couldn't be controlled in a test tube.

  It didn't take him long to get to the hospital. The funereal atmosphere of the delivery room, his father's melancholy expression, but none of that was worse than seeing Furaha on a hospital bed with lifeless eyes. The blood-soaked bed sheets were a cruel composition.

  Adisa went mute. His ears were ringing as if a bomb had exploded in his head. Her hands were shaking and her face was sweating. Silent tears streamed down her face. It had a name: impotence.

  She approached with resignation and gave her reddened lips one last kiss. The pain of childbirth had made her bite her lips until they bled. She had suffered, but now she no longer did. She no longer felt anything, life no longer existed there.

  The doctors asked him to leave. They needed to prepare the body. He left and went to the newborn room. Outside, through a glass panel, a nurse pointed to a boy crying loudly in the incubator. Adisa thanked and said goodbye to the kind nurse.

  “I'm sorry.”

  Adisa turned to the side and saw her father. The old man was more sensitive than him, he had cried more, purged his inner pain more.

  “Don't be, it wasn't your fault.”

  “He's as whiny as you are, my son.”

  “I wasn't a crier.”

  “Yes, you were, as a baby.”

  Adisa swallowed her saliva and choked back a sob. She didn't want to show weakness in front of the little boy who had just been born.

  “That's not fair. I feel like I let it happen. If only I'd stayed by her side. I always asked how her health was, she said everything was fine. I didn't want to worry.”

  “Don't think like that. She sacrificed herself so that your child could be born. A noble thing to do for your family.”

  “You talk as if it was the only way to resolve things.”

  “It wasn't, but the other way was even more painful for her. Don't blame her.”

  “What should I do now that she's gone?”

  “You should carry on, for her sake, and for his.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “It's not, it wasn't for me after I lost your wife, it won't be for you.”

  Azekel turned away from Adisa. The man continued to stare at the little boy in the incubator. It was inevitable to feel that the boy was to blame.

  “Why did she choose you?”

  He rubbed his eyes. He turned his back and let himself slide down the glass until he was crouched on the floor. He wanted to tell himself a lie, one that would make her sacrifice seem like a mistake, one in which he could get rid of his own guilt… Furaha was no longer there, and there was nothing he could do about it.

  She had left the world and entered the layers of spirituality. To Fante Obatiye she walked, like all obedient children after death. Adisa had never hated the cycle of life so much. We were born to die, defenseless against the laws of this world.

  People lived on only as memories, until one day they were forgotten. He wouldn't forget her, he promised.