"It has been established beyond a reasonable doubt that there is no love between the two of you again. In the absence of love, the union can't be forced on any of you. Consequently, the marriage is hereby dissolved," the Magistrate ruled.
Tears rolled down my cheeks watching my parents smile at the ruling.
"I have listened to the argument of both of you regarding who is to be in custody of your son," the Magistrate continued. "The custody of David Okanbi Jones is hereby given to Mr Jones. The mother should be allowed to visit her son at will," he concluded.
The pronouncement by the Magistrate brought into conclusion the divorce tussle between my parents. I thought of the uncertainty that awaits me in the future and pools of tears flow down my cheeks like water escaping from a dam.
My mum came to me to reassure me that she did what she did for my interest.
"You need me alive. Having your mother alive at a distance is better than having her dead. I love you, Okanbi."
I was dumbfounded. I looked into my mother's eyes and bowed my head to further succumb to the tears splitting out of my eyes.
"I will always check on you, son," she kissed my hand before walking out of the court.
I love my father just like I love my mum. I was privileged to have loving parents. They went to any length to provide for me. My wish was to see myself under both of them under the same roof. It's painful that my wish is being shattered. I wanted to be with my mum. I love my dad but I was uncertain of what the future would be.
"Definitely, a young man like my dad in his 40s would probably remarry at a point in his life," I told myself.
"How convenient would life be for me under a step mother?"
My mum's regular prayers came to my mind following this question.
"I prayed to God never to give me a child if I was going to die during his childhood. Now that God gave you to me, I will continue to pray for a long life to nurture you with care and love. No other woman can serve the place of a mother."
She said these prayers several times to my hearing. She had shared her experience while growing up with me.
"My mum died when I was 2. I grew up under the care of a stepmother whom my dad married a year after the demise of my mother," she narrated her ordeals to me. "It was hell on earth. I was a second class citizen in my father's house. My stepmom gave birth to a boy a year after her wedding. Whenever my dad was around, I would be treated well. If he wasn't around, which was the case most times because he was a military personnel, I would have to bear the hatred and brutality.
"It got to a point that I was given different food from what my stepmother and his son were eating. I slept in the cold without a blanket. I pray never to see my children grow under another woman."
"Am I destined to follow the same path?" I shook my head.
I went home with my dad from the court. He strived hard to make me happy.
"I will make sure that you don't miss your mum," he told me several times.
For my sake, he refused to remarry. He successfully filled the part of the loopholes created by the absence of my mother. I missed my mum mostly when my dad went for official assignments that would take him at least a week. He was a driver who was working for the government. Before leaving home for such a trip, he would take me to his younger sister to stay with her pending his return.
My experience in my aunt's house was a replica of my mum's experience. I was treated with disdain. I lived the life of a servant. I was left to do the house chores alone. I would break firewood, wash dishes and cook. I could spend hours doing laundry while my cousins would be sleeping.
On a fateful day that I was exhausted from the house chores, I hid myself in the backyard of the house to cry out my frustrations. I was able to do that because my aunt and her children had gone to an amusement park to enjoy the weekend. I was never important enough to be part of such a trip.
I was told to warm the leftover food and eat. Due to a power outage, the food had spoiled where it was kept in the fridge. I finished working for about two hours and there was no food to eat.
"Do I deserve this suffering? I think my parents are selfish. Am I really important to them? Why would I be left to bear the brunt of their selfish decision to divorce? God, my hope lies on you." I asked myself many questions while submitting my hope to the Almighty.
My phone rang and it was my mum calling. I composed myself immediately and received her call. A few minutes into the audio call, she demanded that we switch to video so that she could see my face. I was skeptical about switching to video. I wanted to hide my pain further. I didn't want to cause any friction between my parents and my aunt.
On her insistence, I switched to video call.
"Why are your eyes so red? Hope you are fine?" She asked me.
"I am fine, mum," I responded to her.
"You appeared like someone that had been crying. Open up to me. Are you Okay?"
I couldn't hold myself back. I let out the cat from the bag. My mum was heartbroken. She ended the call. My efforts to call her back immediately proved abortive. She was on another call.
A few minutes later, my dad called me to confirm what he was told by my mom.
"I just finished talking with your mother. Why have you been hiding such pain from me? I can't trade your happiness for anything else."
"I was trying to avoid creating problems between you and your sister."
"I will get to your place before dusk. Arrange your clothes into your bag. You are leaving that house today," my dad concluded.
True to his promise, he arrived in the evening. I had begged him never to escalate the issue.
"What do you want?" He took me aside and asked.
"Dad, before I make any demands, I want to have you and my mum on the seat."
We returned home that evening and the following day, my mother joined us.
"My demand is that I want to stay with mum.
"If you truly love me, please grant my wish," I knelt before my dad with tears coming out of my eyes.
The estranged ex-lovers looked into my eyes and joined me crying.
"Your wish is granted. You can go and stay with your mother," my dad responded to me.
I was overwhelmed with joy. I hugged my parents in turn. I quickly arranged my belongings and went with my mum to her house.
"Okanbi," she called me. "My life hasn't remained the same since the day you were taken away from me in court." Okanbi is the name that she loved calling me. It means my only child. The name itself is laced with love and affection.
"Okanbi, what do you want to eat so that I can prepare it for you?"
Before replying to her, I looked into her eyes and expressed to her how my life was miserable without having her around.
"Mum, I am glad that I am back home. In my mother's house, I found peace and unconditional love."
She went to the kitchen to prepare my choice of food - fried rice - for me.