Her Worth Beyond Birth

Chika Gladys others

Chapter One: The Day She Was BornThe cry of a newborn should bring joy.But on the night Adanna was born, her cry was met with silence.Outside the mud-brick house in Umuorie village, rain tapped gently on the zinc roof. Inside, the midwife wiped the baby clean and smiled softly.“It’s a girl,” she said.The smile on Adanna’s mother’s face faded.Her father, Okorie Nwankwo, turned his back.“A girl?” he repeated, his voice cold. “After three miscarriages, this is what the gods give me?”The midwife hesitated. “She is healthy—”“I didn’t ask,” he snapped.That night, no goat was slaughtered. No palm wine was shared. No neighbor was called to celebrate. The child was laid beside her exhausted mother like an unwanted burden.Her name, Adanna, meaning father’s daughter, felt like mockery.From that moment, her worth was questioned—not by her actions, but by her birth.Chapter Two: Growing in the ShadowsAdanna grew quietly.She learned early that silence was safer than questions. While other children ran freely, she stayed close to the kitchen, helping her mother pound yam or fetch water before sunrise.Her younger brother, Chinedu, arrived four years later.That day, drums echoed through the compound.Her father laughed for the first time in years.“My son has come!” he announced proudly.From then on, Adanna became invisible.Chinedu went to school first. Adanna waited.Chinedu ate meat. Adanna scraped the pot.Chinedu was praised. Adanna was corrected—even when she did nothing wrong.Once, at age nine, she dared to ask, “Papa, when will I go to school?”Okorie stared at her like she had insulted him.“School?” he scoffed. “So you can write love letters and shame this family? You will marry. That is your school.”That night, Adanna cried quietly into her wrapper, learning a painful truth:Some families do not hate you loudly.They erase you slowly.Chapter Three: A Girl with DreamsDespite everything, Adanna dreamed.She loved listening to stories from the village women—stories of cities, businesses, and women who built something with their own hands. At night, she whispered those dreams to the stars.“I will be more than this,” she promised herself.When she finally went to school at fourteen—only because a church intervened—she excelled. Her teachers noticed. Her classmates admired her.But at home, her success meant nothing.One evening, Chinedu failed his exams.Adanna came home with the best results in her class.Her father tore her paper in half.“Do not think you are better than your brother,” he warned. “Remember your place.”That night, something hardened in Adanna—not into hatred, but into resolve.If this home would never love her, she would survive without its approval.Chapter Four: A Marriage No One ExpectedAdanna was eighteen when her father told her she was to be married.He did not ask. He announced.“The man will come next week,” Okorie said, chewing kola nut. “He is a trader from the city. At least he will remove you from this house.”Adanna said nothing. She had learned that silence was her shield.The women whispered. Some pitied her. Others laughed.“Who would marry that girl?” one asked.“Maybe she used juju,” another replied.On the day Obinna Okafor arrived, Adanna expected disappointment to sit on his face the way it always did on her father’s.But when she lifted her eyes, she saw something unfamiliar.Kindness.Obinna was not rich. He was not loud. He spoke gently, listened carefully, and when he looked at her, he did not look away.“She has good eyes,” he told her father. “Eyes that have seen too much.”Okorie scoffed. “She is stubborn. But she can cook.”Obinna smiled faintly. “That is not what I asked.”For the first time in her life, someone defended her without being asked.Chapter Five: Learning What Love Feels LikeMarriage did not cure Adanna’s wounds overnight.On her first night in Obinna’s home, she slept at the edge of the bed, afraid to breathe too loudly. She woke before dawn to clean, cook, and prove her worth.Obinna noticed.“You don’t have to wake so early,” he said one morning.She froze. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong.”Her voice shook.Obinna frowned—not in anger, but confusion. “Why are you apologizing?”No one had ever asked her that.In his family, things were different. His mother called her my daughter. His sisters laughed with her. When she made mistakes, no one shouted.The first time Obinna defended her from a neighbor’s insult, Adanna cried herself to sleep.Not from pain—but from shock.Love, she learned, was not loud.It was gentle.It stayed.Slowly, she began to heal.Years passed.Adanna grew into herself. She started a small food business with Obinna’s support. What began as a tray of snacks became a thriving venture.What do u think will happen next,will the rejected stone become the chief corner stone of her family. Stay tuned for more part

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