SAMANTHA's POV

My biological mother is a petite woman with caramel-colored skin, bright, big eyes, and plump lips. She is thirty-six years old. She had me when she was twenty, but her parents were against her love for an unemployed undergraduate. Regardless, their love persevered through all obstacles, and now they stand in front of me married with two children. My biological father is tall—I must have gotten my height from him. I have his features: an athletic body, the same dentition, smoky eyes framed with long lashes, and small lips. I also inherited his light brown skin color.

My lips are pressed tight as Mr. Freddy, Daniel's dad, introduces me to them. Their eyes are clouded with tears as they cover the distance between us with large strides. Soon, I'm enveloped in their embrace as they wail, expressing their joy.

"My baby," my biological mom, Mrs. George, says. She pulls away and looks into my eyes. "My baby!" She drops to the floor and cries, her shoulders shaking with each gasp she takes. My eyes grow moist, and I join the crying. After a few minutes of tears, we go into their apartment. It's a cozy place. My parents love nature, and their interior design is inspired by it—lots of flowerpots, butterfly patterns, and decorative leaves. I have two younger brothers: Alfred, the first son, is ten years old, and Winner is seven. They share my mother's skin color and have their father's eyes. They are irresistibly cute, but I can tell they are playful and headstrong. They make quite a noise, blowing whistles they had stolen from their dad's room. My heart leaps with joy when I discover that my father is a football coach at two Nigerian universities.

We stand in the corridor as he says, "So you play football?"

"I love football," I respond, my voice steady.

His lips curve into a broad smile, and I mirror it. "That's amazing. You wouldn't mind playing with me, would you?"

"I would be happy to."

"Amazing." He smirks. "I would like to see how good you are."

"I might be the best player you've ever met," I say with confidence.

"If you're not in a hurry, we could play a match now."

My jaw drops. While I'm still trying to process this newfound reality about my birth, I feel at home with this family. I don’t mind calling them my parents. They may be an average family, but wealth can’t give me the motherly love I’ve deeply desired. After just one hour here, I’ve felt so much love from my mother that my heart swells with joy. I want more of it. And now, my dad wants to play football with me? I have always dreamed of this moment but I never thought it would come true.

"If you don't want to play, it's okay. We can do that next time."

"I want to," I squeal, slapping my hands over my mouth, my voice echoing down the corridor.

"Let's go!" he says, chuckling. The match begins, and Mr. Freddy joins the fun. Not long after, my brothers shuffle into the game. We all play energetically, keep our movement in check to avoid destroying anything in the compound.
When lunch is ready, we gather around the table. As we eat, I share my dreams and talk about my current academic journey. My dad listens intently, then tells me that he can recommend me to a women’s football team so I can play in the upcoming competition. He hopes I’ll win and get a scholarship, and he even offers to coach me, his voice filled with excitement and pride. "That's my girl!" he exclaims. After the lively conversation and shared laughter, I return home with Mr. Freddy, feeling a warmth from the time spent with my newfound family.

Later, I sit with Daniel, reliving every detail of my day. As I recount the experience, a smile never leaves my face. Daniel listens, his eyes lighting up as if he’s living the moment with me.

"I wish I had been there. You wouldn’t have scored a goal. I’m a great goalkeeper," he boasts, flashing me a playful grin.

"Lies! You’re average at best," I tease, feeling a growing ease in our friendship.

"Me? Average?" He throws his head back in laughter. "How dare you?"

I laugh too and act out how I scored the goal, exaggerating the way my dad tried to block it. "The ball flew right past him, and I yelled, 'goal!'” I finish, my tone triumphant. "There’s nothing like the taste of victory."

Daniel smirks. "So, you only scored once? Sounds like he’s pretty good. Maybe he let you score out of pity. I’d say that makes him a very generous man."

"Shut up!" I nudge his arm, playfully indignant. "I won fair and square."

"I doubt it was fair," he says, still grinning. "Probably more like a circle."

I pause for a second, then burst into laughter once the joke lands. Without thinking, I place my hand on his shoulder, feeling the warmth of the moment. It takes a heartbeat too long before I realize what I’ve done, and when I look up, his eyes are on me. My body freezes, and suddenly, an unfamiliar sensation rushes through me—my heart pounding, a lightness in my chest. I pull my hand away, a little too quickly, and put some space between us. He clears his throat, his smile fading into an awkward curve. The air between us thickens, and we both fall silent until I break it.

"So... what were you doing while I was gone?" I ask, hoping to reset the mood.

He hesitates, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Worrying about you."

A warmth spreads through me, butterflies swirling in my stomach. "What?"

His eyes lift, meeting mine. "I was worried about you. I'm just glad to hear you had a good time."

"I..." My thoughts scatter as I take in the softness of Daniel’s face. Has he always been this good-looking? I quickly look away. "I... um... Thanks for worrying about me."

"Are you going to stay with them?" he asks, changing the subject.

"My parents? I think I will. I want to get to know them better. Plus, I need to start football training soon," I reply, smiling at the thought of it.

"That’s pretty far away," he says quietly, his expression dimming.

"Will you miss me that much?" I blurt out, regretting the words the moment they leave my mouth. His face flashes with hurt, and he shakes his head. "No," he mutters, before turning and walking away.

I stand there, replaying the conversation in my head. "Why did everything just change?" I whisper to myself. "Is he mad at me?"

I rush after him and grab his arm, spinning him around to face me. I must have grabbed too hard. He staggers forward, his body collides with mine, and his jaw smacks against my forehead with a dull thud. I wince at the sudden impact, instinctively resting my head against his chest.

"Ouch!" he groans, his voice strained.

I gently cradle his head in my hands, tilting it up to inspect his jaw. The warmth of his skin lingers under my touch as I scan his face for any sign of pain. I pull back, my heart racing with guilt, and apologize profusely.

"It's okay," he murmurs, massaging his sore jaw with a faint smile. "But why did you pull me like that?"

"Hm..." I stammer, nervously clasping my hands together. "Daniel, I'm truly sorry for what I did back then. The lies, the tricks, the hostility... I have no excuse. Thank you for being there for me when I needed it most and for welcoming me into your family. This past month has shown me what love, selflessness, and gentleness really are. I was moving forward recklessly, but now... I've learned my lesson."

His hand lifts to my face, his fingers gently brushing a teardrop from my cheek. I hadn't even realized I was crying. My vision blurs as more tears well up. "I’m truly sorry," I whisper.

He pulls me into a tight embrace, his voice low and soothing. "I've already forgiven you."

"I’m sorry," I repeat, my voice faltering.

"It’s okay," he reassures me again, his arms wrapping securely around me. "I’ve forgiven you."

I shift slightly, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes. "You didn’t seem happy a moment ago," I say, searching his expression.

"Well..." His words trail off as he tugs me closer, pressing my ear against his chest. The steady thrum of his heartbeat fills the space between us, and soon, mine falls into rhythm with his. "I guess no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop liking you... and that hurts."

A deep breath escapes me, my shoulders sagging under the weight of his words. "I guess I like you too... and I don’t know what to do about it."

His entire body stiffens, his breath catching in his throat. "What did you just say?"

"I think I like you," I mumble, burying my face against his chest as a rush of heat colors my cheeks. "I think I do."

"Freddy! Sam! Kate! Solomon!" his mom’s voice calls from downstairs, breaking the moment. "Dinner’s ready!"

Kate’s bedroom door handle rattles, and I instinctively pull away from Daniel, widening the space between us. Solomon darts out of his room and speeds past. Kate steps out, her eyes flicking between the two of us. She narrows her gaze at Daniel.

"Why are you smiling like that?" she asks, circling around us slowly.

I glance at Daniel, whose grin has only grown wider. His eyes are alight with joy, his entire face practically glowing.

"What’s going on?" Kate presses, her tone suspicious. Daniel giggles, pulling her into a playful hug.

"Dinner’s ready. That’s why I’m smiling. Let’s go!" he says, linking his hand with hers and skipping down the hall.

I clasp my hands over my mouth, my mind racing. Did I just blurt out that I like him? Am I supposed to say that out loud?

Without another thought, I dash to the bathroom, splashing cool water on my face as I try to calm my pounding heart. I catch my reflection in the mirror, surprised by the brightness of my own smile. I’m radiating with joy too.

"I like him... a lot," I whisper to the mirror, my cheeks still flushed. "I really do."

×××

Another chapter for today! I hope you enjoyed it?

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Author Mabel 😁