The rain poured heavily that evening, soaking the dusty streets of the village where hope seemed to vanish like smoke. Mercy stood by the window, her arms wrapped around her frail body, watching the downpour blur the outside world. The tin roof rattled under the force of the rain, but that was nothing compared to the storm brewing inside their home.
Two-year-old Daniel was curled in her arms, quiet and still, his breathing shallow as he battled another wave of sickness. His lips were pale, and his small fingers clung to the thin fabric of her wrapper. He had cried earlier—weak, whimpering cries that tore Mercy's heart to pieces. Now he was too tired to even make a sound.
"God, please," she whispered, pressing her lips against Daniel's damp forehead. "Just keep him alive. That's all I ask."
David slammed the front door open, soaking wet and reeking of alcohol. His footsteps were uneven, and his eyes bloodshot. The stench of palm wine filled the room the moment he stepped in.
"Where's my food?" he barked, not sparing a glance at his son or wife.
Mercy didn't answer immediately. Her focus was still on Daniel, her fingers gently stroking his back to soothe him. The child let out a soft, raspy cough, prompting her to rock him gently.
"I said where is my food? Are you deaf, woman?" David's voice rose.
"I didn't cook," Mercy finally said, her voice barely audible. "Daniel has been sick since morning. I couldn't leave his side."
David's face twisted with fury. "So now you're using that boy as an excuse to abandon your duties? You useless woman!"
Mercy flinched. She knew what was coming, but her body refused to move fast enough. The slap landed hard across her cheek, sending her stumbling sideways. She cradled Daniel tighter, shielding him from the impact.
"Don't touch him!" she cried out. "He's sick!"
"You and that cursed child!" David roared. "Since he was born, everything has gone downhill. You think I don't know? He's a burden! A sickness that eats up every joy I used to have!"
Mercy's eyes welled with tears, her heart breaking at his words. "He's your son, David!"
David sneered. "He's not my son. He's your punishment! Look at my life—no more money, no more respect. All I do now is run errands for men I used to dine with. They laugh at me. Do you know that? They say I married a woman who gave birth to a weakling!"
Mercy couldn't respond. Her throat tightened, and her body trembled. She sat on the floor, still clutching Daniel as tears streamed down her face.
Then came the voice of James, David's elder brother, from the open doorway. "You shouldn't waste your life on this woman, David. I've told you before, leave her and marry another. A real woman from our village. One who can give you strong children, not this sickly boy."
Mercy turned sharply, pain flashing in her eyes. "James, you were here when we had everything. You ate with us, drank with us, even borrowed money from us! How can you say this now?"
James snorted. "That was before your child started draining your husband's strength and wealth. It's time to face reality."
David nodded, slumping into the wooden chair. "Maybe you're right. I should've listened before. This isn't what I envisioned for my life."
Mercy stared at them both, disbelief settling deep in her chest. She had once loved David more than anything. She had believed in him when no one else did, and she had built dreams with him. But now, those dreams lay shattered on the floor like the broken plates from their last argument.
As the rain outside eased into a drizzle, the tension in the room remained thick and heavy. Daniel stirred again, coughing weakly. Mercy rocked him with trembling hands, whispering a lullaby only a mother's heart could compose.
David watched her for a long moment. His eyes, though glassy from alcohol, held a flicker of something—regret, maybe. Or was it bitterness?
James broke the silence. "You know our uncle from the village? He has a daughter, fresh and strong. She's never even had a cold. That's the kind of wife you need. And she's willing, David. All you need is to say yes."
Mercy stood, fury and pain boiling over. "You're planning to replace me while our son is still fighting for his life?! What kind of men are you?"
James shrugged. "The kind that survive."
David didn't say anything. He just looked away, avoiding her gaze.
---
That night, Mercy couldn't sleep. She lay on the mat beside Daniel, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. His fever hadn't gone down, and they didn't have money for another hospital visit. The local clinic had turned them away that morning when she couldn't afford the drugs.
She reached into the small wooden drawer and pulled out her wrapper pouch. Inside were a few crumpled notes—just enough for porridge and maybe paracetamol. Not enough for blood tests, not enough for transfusions. Not enough for anything that could keep Daniel truly safe.
Tears dropped onto Daniel's forehead. Mercy quickly wiped them off.
"I'll fight for you," she whispered. "Even if the whole world turns their back on us, I won't."
She thought of her daughters—Faith and Anita—sent to stay with a cousin in town. It was the only way to keep them fed and in school. She missed them terribly, but right now, Daniel needed her more.
At dawn, Mercy left the house with Daniel tied to her back. She didn't tell David. She didn't need to. He had made it clear where his loyalty now lay.
---
At the local church hospital, the nurse recognized Mercy immediately. "You again?" she said, her voice laced with pity. "Is Daniel still having crisis?"
Mercy nodded. "He's not eaten much in two days."
The nurse touched Daniel's forehead, then called for the doctor. Within minutes, Mercy sat outside the examination room, praying silently.
After what felt like forever, the doctor emerged. "He needs blood," he said simply. "Immediately. He's severely anemic, and his temperature is dangerously high."
Mercy's heart sank. "How much?"
"Ten thousand naira."
Mercy swallowed hard. "Can… can I pay in two parts? I don't have that now. But I can work, clean, cook—anything. Just save my son, please!"
The doctor looked at her. "I'll try to get the blood started. But it's not official. You need to find a way to pay by tomorrow, or we'll have no choice but to stop treatment."
Mercy nodded, tears pouring freely. "Thank you… thank you…"
---
Back at home that evening, David was gone. His side of the bed was untouched. James' words echoed again in Mercy's ears. Maybe David had already gone to the village. Maybe he was already courting his new wife.
But Mercy didn't care anymore.
She had made a vow the day she first held Daniel in her arms. And she would keep that vow—no matter what it cost her.
Even if she had to beg.
Even if she had to break.