The days passed slowly as Naledi's due date drew near, each one stretching longer than the last. Her body ached, her mind wavered, but her heart... her heart quietly bloomed in the most unexpected way. Among the cold walls of her new life, a light had started to flicker—Lincoln.
What began as hesitant conversations had grown into something tender and sincere. He would sit near her while she rested, ask about the baby, and help her without being asked. Then, one afternoon, as he handed her a glass of water, he casually said, "Thanks, Mom."
Naledi froze. Her heart caught in her throat.
He said it like it was natural. Like he meant it.
And from that moment, something changed. She hadn't earned Lincoln through marriage. She'd earned him through kindness, patience, and quiet love. And without even realizing it, she'd become a mother before the baby arrived.
Still, her relationship with Shawn remained strained. She went through the motions—meals, chores, polite conversation—but the intimacy had long since faded. They hadn't shared a bed in months. She didn't hate him, but she didn't trust him either. Something about him was always... unavailable.
Still, she tried. Out of curiosity and maybe desperation, she asked Alice about Melody, Shawn's first wife. What kind of woman had she been? What had she loved, feared, dreamed about? Maybe understanding the past would help her understand her present.
Despite everything, Naledi gave Shawn the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he wasn't cruel. Perhaps he was broken in ways he didn't know how to heal.
Then the day came.
The contractions started in the early hours of the morning. She called out, but no one came. No husband. No friends. Not even family.
Eight grueling hours later, Naledi was still in that sterile hospital room, alone. Her new family had been anything but supportive, and she had long since stopped talking to her own.
Her only hope was that Shawn would walk through those doors. Just once. Just this once.
He didn't.
Later, she'd learn that he was with his mother and his friends, celebrating Melissa and Aaron's engagement. For them, life continued. For her, the world tilted and cracked.
But when the nurse finally placed the tiny baby in her arms, everything else faded. The pain, the loneliness, the betrayal—it melted into something warm and infinite. The baby had been crying, but as soon as Naledi held her, she fell quiet.
Naledi cried. Not out of sadness. Out of overwhelming love.
She was beautiful. Her baby. Their baby.
Soft baby-blue eyes blinked up at her. Her skin was lighter than Naledi's, not quite like Shawn's, a perfect blend of both.
Naledi stared at her daughter and whispered, "Hi, Tiana."
She hadn't told anyone, but she'd chosen the name months ago. She had spoken it into her pillow late at night. She wrote it over and over in her journal. Said it to her belly when no one was listening.
Her name was Tiana Summers Nemeyian Hayes.
That afternoon, the door finally opened. Shawn walked in with Margaret, Melissa, and Aaron trailing behind him.
He froze when he saw her holding the baby. His guilt hung in the air like fog. Naledi looked at him, expression unreadable. She didn't yell. She didn't cry.
She simply looked.
Then he came closer and reached for the baby. She hesitated—but then let him hold her.
And that's when it happened.
He smiled.
Not a smirk. Not a polite curl of the lips. A real, full, heartfelt smile.
Naledi's eyes widened. In all the time she'd known him, she had never seen him smile like that.
Margaret stepped forward, already preparing to take over. "What will we name her?" she asked, glancing at Shawn expectantly.
But before he could respond, Naledi sat up straighter, her voice cool, steady, and strong.
"We already have a name. She will be Tiana Summers Nemeyian Hayes."
The room went silent.
Margaret's jaw tensed, clearly ready to protest. Naledi had never once spoken over her. Never said no. Never taken a stand.
Until now.
Shawn looked at Naledi, then back at his daughter. "It suits her," he said quietly.
His mother didn't argue after that.
As the evening sun filtered through the window, casting soft gold light across the room, Lincoln tiptoed in. He paused near the door, uncertain. Naledi smiled for the first time that day and held out her free arm.
He walked into it like it was home.
Naledi held her daughter in one arm, and Lincoln wrapped her in the other. And just like that, she wasn't just a woman, or a wife, or a name on someone else's family tree.
She was a mother.
To Tiana.
And to Lincoln.
And that, finally, was enough.