Obsession Prologue Part 2
PROLOGUE · PART TWO
Obsession
“A son… or a daughter?” I repeated as if saying it out loud would make it real, something I could grasp onto. “How old?” I asked, my heart pounding in my chest.
“They should be… twenty. Twenty years,” he said, his breath coming in shallow gasps, each word a struggle.
My mind raced. “Where are they, Michael? Where is he or she?”
He shook his head slightly, his eyes fluttering closed momentarily before he forced them open again. “I don’t… know. Remember… when I took that trip… to Africa?”
“Yes, your trip to Nigeria eighteen years ago,” I said, trembling. “Michael, where is the mother? What’s her name?”
His lips parted, but the effort to speak was becoming too much. I could see the strain on his face, the way his body was failing him.
“Stella,” he finally whispered, his voice barely audible. “I… I made a dumb decision. I told her I didn’t want a kid. I want you to find them and beg for my forgive…”
His voice trailed off, and I knew this was the last thing he wanted from me, the final request he would ever make.
And if it were the only thing I did before I died, I would find them. I would see his child.
“I’ll find her, Michael. I promise I’ll find your child.”
He smiled faintly, the corners of his mouth lifting just slightly. “I want you… to love him or her… in place of me.”
My heart shattered. I didn’t want to love anyone in his place. I wanted him. I wanted my son.
“I will,” I said softly, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “I’ll love her. I’ll show her the best love possible.”
He sighed, relief escaping his lips. “I could die… hearing that.”
“Michael, don’t say that,” I whispered, even though I knew it was true.
“Tell my daughter… I’m sorry. I just… have a feeling she’ll be a girl.”
“I wish you could be here to tell her yourself,” I said, tears spilling freely now.
“I’ll… be watching you… the both of you… from heaven,” he murmured.
“That should comfort me,” I said, though nothing could.
His breathing slowed, and he smiled again—weak but full of love.
“Mom… I love you. Never forget that. And always tell my daughter… I loved her… if only I were… given the chance.”
Those were his last words.
I held onto him as his body stilled, the life slipping away in that instant. His chest no longer rose and fell. His hands were ice against mine.
The machines beside him beeped endlessly.
“At exactly 2:00 p.m., Michael Oliver Jackson passed away after a long battle with brain cancer,” the doctor said quietly.
I barely heard him. The silence swallowed everything.
How could life be so cruel?
I stared down at my son—and felt the weight of the world crash down on me.
But there was one thing left.
Finding his child.
I would find her—no matter where she was or what it took.
And in finding her, I could one day learn to live with this emptiness.