The Hated Millionaire Heir

The Dream

The gods are most powerful during the full moon, or so they said the elders of the times before a man in a suit stepped on our lands. During this time couples were fond of being more intimate for their belief that the moon was an eye watching them, an ear hearing their pleas, a heart merciful to grant them their wish. Years passed from when hunting was the source of income till when men tramped the lands in terror with legs made from mortals and a heart that roared louder than the mountain lions, a beast that man controlled with his hands and feet, these days dawned permanently erasing man’s dependance on his legs for transport but the belief of the being behind the moon didn’t. Elsewhere forward in time birth pains were unbearable, the screams echoed as she clutched her maiden’s hand, “Push, I know the pain but push.”, the maiden urged. Her cries were however of two emotions and that endless pain down her belly, she remembered the deal they had after the gender ultra sound, as she struggled pushing every muscle to get that thing out of her she still preferred it inside because then it would be safe and that deal would be void. But wouldn’t the child, sorry children, be better of born than in a stagnant place in her womb for eternity, what could be so horrific that using her body as her newborns confinement made it the better option.

They sat on the clinic waiting seats, the cold metallic structure and its sitting cushions were warmed by the anxious couple, the husband sat on the edge his hand rested on the handle tucking his wife close to him. She wore a black dress with a grey shirt top, her hair was free though braided, her black Italian leather flats clothed her feet, her brown handbag with gold-colored arms rested on her thighs inside her woman possessions yet her greatest wasn’t in it. He wore radher shady grey pants with a short armed brown cotton shirt, his Savier silver coated watch clamped his left wrist sinking its biting edges that left marks time and again, his beard was shaved to a nice well-trimmed goatee, his hair was worked on in his casual low fade hairstyle, his car keys, house keys, wallet and his phone were his possession that fit in his pockets yet similarly his most prized wasn’t in the hallow space. Six years they were together, for these six years they were legally accustomed to each other as husband and wife, they had established their bonds and it bore evident fruits. The husband an accountant in one of the local banks was transferred to the city’s head bank after he saved his previous bank from immense debt cases, there he worked tirelessly counting those humongous digits, the immense values he had to keep track off, the whole debit credit confusion mangled him from the inside out. Yet at the end of the day, he would board the bus home, mentally exhausted and physically famished, he would fall asleep only to be woken by the bus’s dying engine at the end of the road which was ten miles from where he lived. He would walk back a mile then rest, rise and walk another mile till eventually he saw the red wooden door, the knock despite this being his home was intentional yet the sight of his wife welcoming him was expected.

“Welcome home honey how was your day?” she would ask, in a blue top and black skirt she worked as a baker in the City’s supermarket and would arrive earlier than her husband. As a submissive wife, she prepared the night’s meal while her husband showered in the comfort of warm water she prepared for him, she added a pinch of salt and stirred the stew for a minute and covered it letting it shimmer for some time. Meanwhile, she went back to the bedroom which was a door away in their apartment, there she prepared the bed tucking the bed’s sheets to inside the wooden support, she sprayed a lavender cologne on the sheets to bring that sweetness and romance that was moments away, “Ooops!”, she gasped returning to check on her stew. Done with his shower, the fatigue was all washed away together with the day’s stink, he opened the wardrobe and wore his light clothes to prepare for dinner which was smelling him as much as he smelled it. On opposite sides of the dining table, each had their plate with amounts each could consume and be satisfied with, she glared at him and began the conversing, “How was your day?”, she would start diving her spoon in the rice, “Well I slept in the bus again.”, he responded merging the food with his mouth. They chuckled mocking the other for their incapabilities in easy situations yet ironic incomparable achievements in hard ones, moments later the plates were empty and it was time for the main course.

He smelt the scent and affirmed his suspicions, he knew despite his failed attempts, their failed attempts, she was still persisting to give it a chance yet he lost all hope. Six years he worked and everything bore fruit, work promotions, a car on its way from Paguy, an all-round wife, even his wooing skills were on point yet unfortunately he had a weakness just like any other mortal. Before their marriage, they planned on a lot of things and mostly the children they were going to have, were the core center of it, this dream magnetized and revolutionized their minor goals around it. But for some reason they didn’t seem to achieve this goal from when they made those vows; it was daunting but it was true they could have everything they worked for but a sire wasn’t on the list. Persistent with the dreams she consistently had, the dream she saw of a boy, a boy in white pajamas in a white house with a red ceiling, a garden surrounding the house and a trunk as thick as a tire growing beside the beetroot garden, a girl swaying on the branches eating mangoes her clothes tattered, stained and dirty. She was in that dream in a white dress, she approached the boy and the boy smiled at her, he hugged her and whispered “Mama”, playfully his tinny fingers messed up her hair then fleeing before she could realize his mess. The girl in the tree was much older, she was on a branch that seemed weak and couldn’t hold her weight and eventually cracked and broke letting gravity take its course. The harsh impact bruised her elbow, she rushed to the girl and held her injured arm and the girl looked to her and said, ‘Mum help I’m hurt.”, she remembers the girl flinching as she nursed the wound with antiseptic constantly moaning “Mum it stings.”, yet she hushed her with the words she recalls her mother used to comfort her with, “Everything will be alright.”. It was a sign they just had to keep trying, she reached for her husband and turned him towards her, tears had swelled, she knew he had given up on that dream but she hadn’t, she was patient for six years, what’s another six years. So, she reached for his neck and began the process, the kisses and the moaning as her fingers gripped him and his perused her, she whispered in his ear, “The dream”, the moon glared, the full moon more so and it viewed first hand the desperate void in the perfect marriage, the gods will listen she hoped amidst her husband shoving and her rhythmic moans, they will listen she said again.

“I am sorry you cannot get pregnant. Before the operation, the damage done by the cancer had affected the walls and the womb so the surgery had to work on the affected area which are vital organs for pregnancy.”, the doctor mentioned. Years before she met her husband, during her rookie years she was a fond thrill seeker and fond of hanging with people she wasn’t familiar with mostly in clubs. During this period, at some point she had problems during her menstrual cycle like excessive bleeding and pain even when she’s not on her days, this un-comfortability became unbearable and she went for a check up only to realize she was infected with cervical cancer. Despite her recognizing the problem the damage was sever and as a result twenty years later she cannot have a child. This revelation broke her, after the doctor muttered the bad news she melted in tears and her husband cushioned her tears urging there was a way, “Doctor there is surely another way.”, he insisted the doctor because there was another, it had to be.

“There is another way.” The doctor paused after his proclamation, hope glimmered in her shattered world and the sinking woman she was, she was grabbing to that straw for her breath. “You need a donor.”, the doctor began, “What do you mean a donor?” the husband chipped in anxious already, “An ovum donor. A woman who will bear pregnancy on her behalf since she cannot.” He remarked. In most couple therapies similar to this the couple would be given a thinking period of one week to think on the option, find a donor if they agree to it, and eventually report back so they can get the process started. However, this wasn’t the average couple, it was a desperate one, the wife was aware of what the doctor meant and how harsh it felt, she knew that no matter how many times she will breastfeed that child, how many times she would be called mother, the infinite times they would cry to her when they were bullied at school or failed on their first dance audition, she was never their real actual mother.

“We will do it.” The wife responded a minute after the doctor remarked, the husband was shocked, she knew her desperation but this was the edge of it, they didn’t have time to discuss and she just blabbers like it’s some football contract, she had no right. “Listen! I love you with all my heart but if this is all I have.”, she paused kneeling to her husband in tears, “All we have to getting a son or a daughter I am willing for it.” She broke in his arms again, yes she wouldn’t be their mother but at least she will have the feelings, experiences and troubles of any other mother. “When do we start?” he asked, all systems go, it was now or never the couple listened tied to one another, the doctor gave them clear instructions on how to find a donor, what and what not to do, if they wanted this as badly as they do then they must do it right because it had no do overs.

“Mrs. Salma?” she asked, the lady addressed nodded surprised by the guest on her doorstep, “Can I come in?”, she asked again. Well dressed, courteous as well intelligent looking, she seemed no harm but if she did then she would have trouble running in those heels, wrapping her cloth around her waist, the lady pulled out a bench from the inside and brought it out closing the door behind her. “There’s a nice breeze let’s talk outside.” The lady insisted, the guest with no option but to acclaim chuckled a smile on her face and sat on the center of the bench and there she noticed, she could hear the bench sink despite her light weight, how old it was by the cracked edges and termite devoured legs, she turned and took note of the cobweb cloud on her door, she could picture the inside and nausea was the best answer. She was here to make a deal, even when it meant pulling a dumpster from the sewer to involve on the far end of the deal.

“Ma’am do you have any daughters?” she asked politely, the lady had brought some tea and served in rusty cups and the cleanest with a broken handle was for the guest, “Yes.” She answered. Poverty was evident, how her clothes were clearly bleached by the sun and poor detergents, her skin all rippled and cheeks pale because she couldn’t afford a 20mg of body oil, how her best clothing was one from a funeral donation eight years ago, she would do anything to save her family.

“I have business proposal, you give me a daughter and I will maintain your family till she graduates?” she muttered, straight and clear as day, she wasn’t hesitant in her questioning because frankly they were both desperate and there was one choice, give or take?