Chapter 18: THE AWAITED NIGHT

The pain did not arrive all at once.

It came in waves that made Abena pause mid-breath.

At first, she thought it was nothing unusual. Her body had been heavy for a long time now, always pulling her attention inward, always reminding her she was carrying something that did not belong only to her anymore.

But this felt different.

She stopped walking.

Adwoa noticed immediately.

“What is it?” Adwoa asked, stepping closer.

Abena did not answer right away. Her hand pressed slowly against her lower stomach as she tried to steady herself.

“It is starting,” she said finally, her voice lower than usual.

Adwoa’s eyes widened slightly.

“Are you sure?”

Abena nodded once, slowly.

“Yes.”

That single word carried more certainty than panic.

Adwoa turned quickly.

“Call the elder woman.”

A slave nearby rushed off without waiting.

Abena lowered herself carefully against the wall. Her breathing had already changed—no longer even, no longer something she controlled fully.

Adwoa crouched beside her.

“You should lie down,” she said.

Abena shook her head slightly.

“Not yet.”

Adwoa frowned.

“Abena, this is not something you stand through.”

Abena gave a faint, strained breath that almost passed for a laugh.

“I am not standing. I am just… not lying down yet.”

Adwoa looked at her, worried now.

“Why are you arguing about position at a time like this?”

Abena did not answer immediately.

Then, quietly:

“Because it makes me feel like I still have a choice in something.”

Adwoa said nothing after that.

The elder woman arrived with two attendants shortly after.

Her expression changed the moment she saw Abena.

“Bring cloths. Water. Clear space,” she ordered immediately.

The room shifted into motion.

Abena was helped down properly this time, slowly, carefully, her body already resisting control in ways she could not hide anymore.

Adwoa stayed close, holding her hand.

“It will pass,” Adwoa said softly.

Abena did not respond at first.

Her face tightened as another wave came through her, forcing her to close her eyes for a moment.

When she opened them again, her voice was quieter.

“I know.”

Time stopped meaning much after that.

The inner quarters became a blurred space of movement and instruction. Voices came and went. Hands adjusted cloth. Water was brought. The elder woman spoke sharply when needed, but mostly let silence do the work.

Abena did not speak much anymore.

When she did, it was short.

“I need to turn.”

Or,

“Wait.”

Or nothing at all.

Adwoa never left her side.

At one point, Adwoa whispered, almost helplessly, “You are too quiet for what is happening.”

Abena turned her head slightly, breathing uneven.

“I am saving my voice,” she said softly.

Adwoa shook her head.

“This is not something you can outlast by discipline.”

Abena did not argue.

Another wave came, stronger this time.

Her grip tightened around Adwoa’s hand.

Her face changed—not into drama, not into loud expression, but into pure focus mixed with strain. Her body was doing what it was meant to do, regardless of how much she resisted it internally.

Hours passed in fragments.

No one counted them.

At some point, Adwoa’s voice broke slightly.

“Stay with me, Abena.”

Abena did not respond immediately.

Her eyes were half-closed now, her breathing heavier.

But she squeezed Adwoa’s hand once.

That was her answer.

The elder woman’s voice came again, steady but urgent.

“It is time.”

The room tightened.

Adwoa leaned closer.

“You are almost there,” she said softly.

Abena’s face was pale now, sweat at her hairline, her body fully absorbed in what it had decided to do without asking her permission.

She did not speak after that.

Not because she had nothing to say.

But because there was nothing in her that had room for speech anymore.

Time collapsed again.

Then, a change.

The kind that shifted everything in the room without anyone needing to explain it.

Screams.

A release.

The elder woman’s hands steadied.

Then she spoke quietly.

“It is done.”

Silence followed.

Not relief at first.

Just stillness.

Adwoa stayed frozen for a moment, then slowly exhaled, her forehead lowering slightly.

Abena remained lying back, eyes closed.

For a long time, she did not move.

Not because she was weak.

But because her body had finished something it did not ask her permission for.

Adwoa leaned closer, voice shaking slightly.

“It is a girl.”

Abena opened her eyes slowly.

She did not sit up immediately.

She only asked, quietly,

“Is she… breathing?”

A pause.

Then the answer came.

“Yes.”

Abena closed her eyes again for a moment.

Not relief.

Not joy.

Just acknowledgment.

Then she whispered,

“Good.”

Adwoa looked at her carefully.

“That is all you will say?”

Abena turned her head slightly toward where the child was being cleaned.

Her voice was soft.

“For now… yes.”

Outside, the palace continued as if nothing had changed.

But inside that room, something irreversible had just entered the world.

And Abena Korsi, exhausted in a way that had nothing to do with strength or weakness, finally lay still long enough to understand:

Some moments do not make you powerful.

They simply make you real.