Ada sat in the hospital waiting room, gripping the edges of her wrapper. The smell of antiseptic filled the air, but she barely noticed. Her mind was elsewhere—on the tiny, fragile life in the incubator just a few doors away.

Her baby, Chisom, had been born with a congenital anomaly. The doctors called it spina bifida, a condition where the spinal cord didn’t form properly. But to Ada, it was more than just a medical term—it was a reality she had never imagined, a burden she never thought she would carry.

The pregnancy had been normal, or so she thought. She attended antenatal visits when she could, but like many women in her village, she had relied on herbal remedies and faith more than medical scans. No one had warned her. No one had prepared her. When she finally gave birth, the nurses’ hushed whispers and the doctor’s grave expression told her something was wrong before she even saw her child.

Now, she sat in silence, watching other mothers cradle their newborns, whole and healthy. She felt the sting of envy, then guilt. Was it her fault? Had she done something wrong?

The whispers had already started back home. "It’s a curse," some said. "Maybe she angered the gods," others murmured. Even her husband had grown distant, avoiding the hospital and refusing to hold their baby.

"Ada?" The doctor’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up, her heart pounding.

"Your baby is stable," he said gently. "But she will need surgery. And even after that, she might never walk."

Ada’s throat tightened. She wanted to scream, to ask why this had happened to her child. But she only nodded, her face expressionless.

The doctor continued, "With the right care, she can still have a good life. It won’t be easy, but there is hope."

Hope.

Ada wasn’t sure if she believed in it anymore. But as she walked toward the NICU, pressing her palm against the glass that separated her from her baby, she made a silent promise.

No matter what the world said, no matter who abandoned them—she would fight for her child.

Because love, even in the face of the impossible, was the one thing she still had left.