| Imran Adebayo Ibrahim |

We all stared at the laptop's screen. The air was thick with anticipation, and the room felt as though it was holding its breath. My mother, sitting in the center of the living room, looked calm but her eyes betrayed her finesse, they were all puffy and red. Beside her, Jamal kept a reassuring hand on her shoulder, while Zayd and I exchanged nervous glances from opposite ends of the couch.

I could hear the ticking of the wall clock, each second dragging out the torment of waiting. My heart thumped in my chest, a heavy drumbeat echoing the fear that gripped us all. The past few days had been a whirlwind of doctor's appointments, tests, and sleepless nights. The possibility that my mother's first diagnosis was right loomed over us like a thick black cloud. My already-mended heart broke all over again as we awaited the email that tells my mother's fate.

I didn't want to admit it, but the thought of losing her terrified me. My mother was the glue that held me and our family together, and the idea of life without her was unbearable. My hands were clammy, my throat was dry. Every worst-case scenario played out in my mind, each one more terrifying than the last. I glanced at Jamal, his usually composed expression was now showing cracks of worry, and Zayd, whose confidence had faded into silent dread.

As we waited for the email to arrive, a wave of helplessness washed over me. Lately, I haven't been praying for anything, all my prayers seemed to be blocked somehow, but at that moment, I found myself turning to Allah for comfort — ready to say a prayer. Silently, I offered a prayer, hoping for a miracle. "Please, Allah," I whispered under my breath, "let her be okay. Help us through this."

A ping broke the silence, signaling the arrival of the email. My mother inhaled sharply, her hand reaching for Jamal's. Zayd and I leaned forward, the screen illuminating our faces with a cold, blue light.

"I can't read it, no—" I said, closing my eyes with my palm.

"I'll read it." Jamal clicked on the email, "Bismillah," he said as he began to read. "Dear Mrs. Raymond, We are writing to inform you of the results from your recent tests. After a thorough review—"

"—No. . . no, oh Allah, help us." I kept mumbling as my palms were clasped together. Zayd's soft pat on my shoulder made me aware of my spiralling.

Jamal cleared his throat, and continued, "—we are relieved to inform you that the first diagnosis you had had some errors, which made us rule it to be a misdiagnosis — you do not have cancer. The mass identified in the initial scans is actually a benign deposit of fat, often mistaken for a tumor. We apologize for any distress this may have caused." He finished reading.

For a moment, there was stunned silence. The weight that had been pressing down on us has now being lifted, replaced by an overwhelming sense of relief. My mother’s eyes filled with tears, but they were tears of joy for sure. Jamal hugged her tightly, whispering soothing words into her ear. Zayd let out a whoop of excitement, breaking into a wide grin.

I closed my eyes, offering another silent prayer, this time one of gratitude. "Thank you, Allah," I murmured, feeling a sense of peace wash over me. At that instance, I realized my prayers were being answered to by Allah, but not in the way I thought. Alhamdulillah!

There were many things I ought to be grateful for, my life had taken a wonderful turn, who would have thought I'd be better off in Atlanta than I was in Nigeria — Allah never forsake me for once, I was a fool to think He has.

When I opened my eyes, I saw my family embracing, tears of relief and joy streaming down their faces. I joined them, wrapping my arms around my mother and feeling the warmth of her embrace.

Jamal broke the hug, "there's more y'all—" he announced.

"There is?" We all inquired in unison.

"—Yes: In addition, according to some tests that were carried out, we are pleased to inform you that you are four weeks pregnant. Congratulations Sincerely, Dr. Harrison and the Oncology Team." He finished, his face laced with pride.

My mother wasn't as surprised as we all were, I figured she had been suspecting it. I was over the moon, that explains my mother's tiredness. Right after Zayd landed a baseball exclusive deal, we were blessed with a baby.

"I'm going to be an elder brother, that's nice." I said, dancing to an inaudible tone.

"Oh my love, why didn't you tell me anything?" Jamal inquired as he patted my mother's head which rested on his shoulder.

"I guess I was scared the child might inherit the cancer from me, and now that I know I don't have cancer, I'm happy — truly thankful. Alhamdulillah." She said, her eyes filling up with tears again.

"Alhamdulillah." We all chorused.

For the first time in weeks, hope filled our house. The nightmare we had feared was over, and in its place was a new beginning. My mother was healthy, and we had a new member of the family on the way. It felt like a miracle, one that we would cherish forever.

I could not wait to share the good news with Francis, Omar and Sahar — especially Sahar. I picked up my phone and entered the group chat we'd created.

Book club meeting, today at 5, I've got news. I typed and watched as my friends replied.

At that fleeting moment, I realized I was finally happy, and there was nothing and no one that would take that happiness from me, days that'll abhor sadness will surely come, but I'll work through it, after all I had friends who will always be there for me — friends who will love me unconditionally, and for the first time in my life I had someone who loved me romantically, for being me — I'm officially the happiest black boi on earth!

What else could I be looking for?

~ The End

.

.
.

Author's Note

TGIF guys, how has the week been for y'all? For me, it has been a whirlwind of emotions. Finally, the big epilogue has been concluded. . . seems like our lonely black boi got a less lonely ending after all. I'm over the moon for finishing this story, I have a habit of discontinuing stories right after chapter 10, (mostly because of writer's block) but I'm so grateful I could finish this story. Tell me what you think about this ending and also pinpoint two moral lesson you've learnt reading this book in the comment, and before you say it, they'll be Bonus chapters, In Sha Allah. Thank you so much for your votes, comments and hell, shares. . . I pray the Almighty bless y'all.

See you in the next chapter, Insha'Allah. Stay safe and stay halal y'all!

Glossary

1. Alhamdulillah: means All thanks be to Allah in Arabic language.

2. Bismillah: means I begin with the name of Allah in Arabic language.