But struggle has a way of wearing down even the strongest hearts.
Okafor’s mother knew this.
She found Ada at the restaurant one afternoon.
Ada recognized her before she introduced herself. There was something about her posture, her clothes, her gaze. This was a woman from Okafor’s world.
“I’m Okafor’s mother,” she said.
Ada’s breath caught, but she sat.
The woman studied her. “You know what my son gave up.”
“Yes.”
“Because of you.”
“I didn’t force him.”
“No. But you didn’t stop him either.”
Ada said quietly, “That was his decision.”
The woman leaned forward. “My son is suffering.”
Ada’s heart tightened.
“You’ve seen it,” his mother continued. “The exhaustion. The frustration. The fall. He was raised for more than this. He had a future.”
“He chose this.”
“People make mistakes.”
The word mistake cut deeply.
“If you love him,” the woman said, her voice softening, “do what is best for him.”
Ada swallowed. “And what is that?”
“Leave him.”
Ada went still.
“He will never say it himself. He is too stubborn. But you see what this life is doing to him.”
Tears gathered in Ada’s eyes.
“You are not his future,” the woman said gently. “You are his obstacle.”
Then she placed a stack of money on the table.
“Take it. Start over somewhere else.”
Ada stared at it.
“I won’t take your money.”
