The maternity ward was filled with noise and movement: four different cries intertwined in the air, like a small, out-of-tune orchestra. On the bed, the young mother, exhausted and sweaty, laughed and cried at the same time, unable to take her eyes off her four children. Tiny, delicate… and already the center of her universe.
Her partner approached the crib, leaning over them. For a moment he remained still, then his face changed. The shock gave way to something dark.
“But… they’re black,” he hissed, as if it were an accusation.
Olivia stared at him, speechless. “They’re our children, Jacob. They’re your children.”
He took a step back, his eyes burning with suspicion. “Don’t you dare. You betrayed me.”
He didn’t wait for an explanation, he didn’t want to listen to anyone. She turned and left, slamming the door and taking with her every promise of a future, of protection, of support. In an instant, four newborns were left fatherless. That evening, in the darkness of the hospital room, Olivia cradled them one by one, her lips brushing their warm foreheads.
“It doesn’t matter who leaves,” she whispered. “You are mine. And I will always protect you.”
Raising one child alone is a mountain. Raising four is a mountain range. But Olivia didn’t even consider giving up.
She took any job: cleaning.
