The wind rattled against the window panes of the Adesua home as the rain poured mercilessly outside, but within there was peace, except for the soft sobbing that drifted from everywhere and nowhere.
Nina was on her knees, her head gently resting on Milo's warm fur. Milo was a golden retriever and the only friend who had stood by Nina, through the years, through the thick and the thin.
"I thought I was doing the right thing," she whispered hopelessly.
Nina was 45 and had built a legal empire: She was the head of the law firm of "NINA ADESUA & CO.," had many properties to her name, and many framed accolades to her credit. What she did not have, and desperately needed now, was a child of her own, it was with an intensity that startled her.
For years, she had concentrated on her career, hardly pausing to think of love or the matters of the heart.
Her eggs were no longer viable; she had come late to the game. The doctors had gently explained to her that she could not be a mother, except she towed the line of traditional surrogacy.
It meant that the surrogate was going to be the biological mother. It wasn't ideal. But at least it was a chance. Her very last one.
She had reached out to her younger sister, Adaeze, who had always loved children. She had lost her husband earlier, leaving her with two lovely daughters, Tonia and Sonia. She did her best to always support them.
Nina made the offer almost afraid to say it aloud.
"Would you carry my child? Your egg... but I'll raise the baby. You will never have to worry about anything again."
Adaeze blinked several times. "You mean... my eggs, my child?"
"No, yours and a donor's. But mine in name. In life, I'd be the mother."
Long silence.
Then gradually, she said;
"Give me time to think about it."
Milo sat by Nina's feet the day Adaeze finally consented. He wagged his tail happily, sensing the hope in the air.
Nina knelt down to rub his ears.
"You're going to be a big brother," she whispered.
The retriever jumped up and down in ecstasy as if he understood every word being said.
The process started with the selection of a donor, the doctors were painstaking in their approach while Adaeze moved in with Adesua to reduce any form of stress.
They choose lavender for the walls of the nursery and together turned it into a wonderland, and a dainty crib waiting with open arms.
They grew closer than they had ever been in those few months, chatting into the nights and making beautiful preparations for the arrival of the baby.
When the sex of the baby was revealed, they both agreed that "Diane" would just be perfect for their princess.
And then the letter came.
It was delivered on a Friday, by courier.
Nina opened it, expecting some clinic updates. Instead:
"I can't do it, I've changed my mind.
I know I had an agreement with you, I know what I said.
But she's mine. I feel her heartbeat when I sleep; I talk to her, Nina. And she answers.
Forgive me, I can't go through with this.
I'm sorry.
Adaeze."
Gone.
No contact address. No phone calls. No clues to her whereabout.
The house was loud with silence.
Milo walked the hallway for days, occasionally stopping at the nursery, softly whining.
Nina did not cry. She just drifted away. She became cold.
Work and wine and silence.
Then she cracked under the weight of such a betrayal.
After four months, she heard from a mutual friend that Adaeze had given birth.
To a girl.
"Diane, my Diane." she whispered brokenly.
Nina walked inside the empty lavender room that night. Milo followed and sat at her feet, as she sank down on her knees.
Her voice cracked.
"She took everything. Again."
Milo whined.
They both had had difficult childhoods after their father died and their mom followed soon after.
Nina had stepped up. Adaeze was five. Nina was sixteen.
Nina had sacrificed so much - school trips, friends - even her first love.
Nina had given and given.
And now the one thing she had asked for, had been taken away.
Five years passed, Nina turned 50. But she was empty, sad, broken. Milo got older and grayer, sleeping most of the time and unable to go for long walks anymore. Nina knew the 10-year-old Retriever was fading away slowly.
But the old dog never stopped sitting at the front of the lavender room, faithfully watching the door, as if hoping that one day someone would come home.
Then came one day, Nina got a call.
A child's voice.
"Are you my mummy Nina?"
She froze. "Who is this?"
"My name is Diane."
Nina sank heavily onto the couch, her heart pounding.
Then Adaeze came on the line.
"I want to return something that rightfully belongs to you, Nina. I never meant to keep her away from you. I just... I got scared. And then... I fell in love."
“I have been so lonely,” Nina whispered through her tears.
A week later, they met in a quiet park. Milo came too, hobbling on tired legs, but his eyes sparkled.
Diane ran straight to him, squealing with joy.
“He’s so soft.”
Nina knelt beside them, tears brimming.
Adaeze stood back, watching, smiling.
Milo died two months later, curled on the settee, head resting on Diane's laps. His last moments were happy ones as he weakly tagged along, almost everywhere she went.
They buried him under the big cherry tree, one of his favourite spots since he was a puppy. Amara made a drawing of Milo with wings, watching over a baby, and placed it on his grave.
“He waited for me to come,” she said. “Before he could go.”
Nina nodded, voice trembling.
“He never stopped believing that his baby sister would one day walk through that door."
--
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