10/05/2025
My friend left her six-month-old baby in my care.
I had woken up that morning to find a basket at the entrance of my door. Inside, wrapped in fine linen, was a baby. My heart skipped. Who could have done this?
I looked around in shock. Nothing. No knock, no noise, just the soft breath of a sleeping child.
Tucked beside the baby was a note.
“Naomi, I’m sorry. But I can’t raise this child with Mathew anymore. He’s getting broke every day, and this isn’t the life I dreamt of. I’m still young, and I won’t let this baby tie me down.
I’ve decided to start a new life with Emy ‘onye cash’—the rich guy from the next village. I know you warned me, and that’s why I’m leaving this child with you. Raise him well. Please forgive me.
—Monica.”
My world paused. Monica? My friend Monica? She abandoned her baby just like that?
She didn't even care to wonder how I would breastfeed her child, for crying out loud, I was a single lady.
What do I do now?
I reached for my phone, heart pounding, but Monica’s lines were switched off.
Without thinking further, I carried the baby, dressed quickly, and rushed to see Mathew.
As I stepped into their compound, I saw him—Mathew—sitting on the floor, tears rolling freely down his face. The house was in disarray. Some bank agents were already moving their fridge and other appliances out.
He looked like a man life had emptied.
I gently sat beside him and placed my hand on his shoulder.
“Everything will be fine, Mr. Mathew. Please, be strong.”
He turned to me with swollen eyes and a heart too weak to speak. When he could finally talk, he begged me to care for his son while he hustled to stand again.
I hesitated. How could two adults create a child and then hand him over like an extra burden?
But Mathew pleaded, over and over. So, I called my mother. Her voice, as always, was calm but firm:
“Carry that child home, Naomi. God doesn’t make mistakes.”
And that’s how Ebube came into my life—not from my womb, but into my heart.
**
Mathew didn’t disappear. After six months, he began getting supplies again, and little by little, he stood on his feet. He would visit regularly, never forgetting to thank me and Mama. Each time, I saw pain behind his smiles.
I once asked if he’d ever remarry. He simply smiled and shook his head.
“I don’t know if I have that kind of strength again.”
Ebube grew like a son born from love. Even after I got married and had my own three children, Ebube remained with us, a big brother to my kids. On weekends, he’d visit his father.
After secondary school, Ebube chose the Federal College of Education in the village so he could stay close and also learn his father’s trade.
Then came the Internet.
Ebube took his father’s business from village-level to global. He opened Facebook and Instagram pages, shot videos, and began showing the world what they offered. Orders started pouring in from places we never imagined.
Mathew once looked at him and said, eyes watery,
“I don’t know what I did to deserve this boy. God, even if Monica left, you gave me a gem. One son that’s worth more than ten.”
Their business expanded that Ebube registered their business, and Mathew insisted that their buisness name would be "Ebube and sons building material."
They were able to open different branches outside the village as Ebube oversees them all.
Mr Matthew will just keep calling him,
"Ebube my Son... Agu nwa... Agu Nnaya"
I was so glad to see that Mr Matthew's smile was back.
I never really told Ebube that I wasn't his biological mother, but I guess he knew, because often when he visits me, he would always smile at me in a way that made me wonder if he knew the truth.
“You’ll never regret raising me, Mum,” he often said.
After they expanded their business, they built a big house for themselves and I was so happy.
Finally One day, Mathew and Ebube invited me out, said they wanted to show me a house they intended to rent out.
I followed them, unsuspecting.
When we arrived, I walked around the compound, admiring the beauty and design. Then Ebube stretched out a key to me.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“The house is yours, Mum. Thank you for raising me like your own when my real mother couldn’t.”
Tears fell freely from my eyes. My heart broke and healed all at once. I hugged him so tightly.
That house— do you know where it was built?
Directly opposite the home of Monica and Emy ‘onye cash.’
Yes. Monica had married Emy. But she couldn’t bear another child. Emy eventually married two more wives, and Monica’s life became a silent prison of pain as her co-wives made life a living h£ll for her.
She wanted to return to Mathew but couldn’t face her shame.
One afternoon, as she walked down the street to buy something, Ebube’s car pulled up beside her. He rolled down his window and greeted her warmly.
“Good afternoon, ma.”
She replied cautiously.
“Do you know me?” he asked, smiling.
She stared for a long moment and finally said, “No.”
“Do you know Mathew, the man that sells building materials?”
“Yes,” she said, blinking. “He was my… yes, I know him.”
“Well,” he said, still smiling, “do you know he had a son, whose mother abandoned him for another man?”
Monica froze. Her lips trembled. “Yes… that was my son. I’ve regretted it every day of my life.”
Ebube’s voice dropped, gentle but firm:
“I am that son.”
Her mouth opened, but no words came. She reached out, trying to touch him, but Ebube started the engine and drove off, leaving a trail of dust and silence behind him.
Monica stood there, stunned.
She dropped to the floor and wept—loud, aching sobs that no one comforted.
Later, when she saw me walk out of the house her son had built for me, she turned away, too ashamed to speak.
She often sat by her window, watching Ebube enter and leave the house that he bought for me, and she feel miserable daily.
She had chosen gold that glittered—only to find it was dust.
And me? I chose a child that wasn’t mine, only to discover he was sent to rewrite my story.
Sometimes, the people we rescue become the ones who rescue us.
Monica lived, but not fully. She lived with her eyes turned to the ground, and her heart buried under the weight of regret.
Because when a mother walks away from her own child… the world keeps a record.
And sometimes, that record grows up, becomes a man, and drives away—with grace and fire in his heart.
Decide to be a true mother who would take care of her kids.
If you're a mother here, feel free to share some of the sacrifices you've made for your kids, you never can tell, who you're encouraging.
If this story blessed you, kindly share❤️
This is a true life story.
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© Chiamaka Favan
