I GUESS WE COULD PRETEND 1.

RAINBOW.

(Recap)

I abruptly severed the conversation, the weight of Mama's words crushing me. "Goodbye, Mama," I choked out, slamming my finger onto the screen to end the call.

As the device went dark, I exhaled the breath I'd unknowingly held captive. The dam burst, unleashing a torrent of tears. I surrendered to the anguish, weeping uncontrollably.

But my cathartic moment was short-lived. As I lifted my tear-stained face, my gaze collided with Ben's. His piercing eyes with an unreadable expression, locked onto mine.

My heart skipped a beat. When did he get home? The sudden realization that I wasn't alone in my emotional turmoil sent a shiver down my spine.

He blinked once, twice, and our eyes met in a fleeting moment of connection. The air was heavy with unspoken words, and I sniffled, the sound shattering the fragile silence. But instead of comfort, instead of solace, he turned and walked away, leaving me splintered into a million pieces.

The pain was a living, breathing thing, a savage beast that clawed at my heart and ravaged my soul. I crumpled, my body wracked with sobs, my tears falling like rain as I cried myself to sleep, lost in a sea of despair.

---------Back to present++-+-+--

Even now, the memory of that moment still sears in my mind, a raw, open wound that refuses to heal. He walked away, oblivious to the weight of Mama's words still echoing in my mind, still crushing my heart. The uncertainty is a constant torment, a gnawing sense of desperation that haunts me – how much did he hear? Does he even care?

I'm a tangled mess of emotions, unable to untangle the threads of pain, sadness, and frustration. (Sniffs) My mind is a jumbled chaos, my thoughts muddled by tears and heartache. I'm struggling to think straight, to make sense of the turmoil brewing inside me.

It's been an eternity – almost an entire day – since Ben retreated into his home office, shutting himself away from me, from us. Normally, I wouldn't mind him working from home on weekends, but today, it feels like a cruel twist of fate. I'm left sitting here, vulnerable and exposed, my emotions raw and bleeding, while he's safely tucked away, oblivious to my distress.

Is he going to pretend he didn't hear the conversation that shattered my heart? Maybe, just maybe, he didn't catch the words that cut me to the core. Should I confront him and ask him what he knows? No! The risk is too great, the potential fallout too devastating.

Don't get me wrong, he's been distant, a ghost hovering on the periphery of my life. It's been a while since he's touched me since he's shown any interest in my existence. I should be grateful for this reprieve, but instead, I'm left with a gnawing sense of uncertainty.

I need answers, though. I need to know what to tell Mama next time she asks about our plans for a family. Will Ben continue to ignore the elephant in the room, or will he finally acknowledge the painful truth? The thought of confronting Ben about his thoughts on children makes my heart quiver with anxiety. Heaven knows I wouldn't want my words to clash with his, to unravel the fragile threads of our already strained relationship. Though curiosity gnaws at me, I'm terrified of uncovering the truth.

For as long as I can remember, all I ever yearned for was a family to call my own - a sense of belonging, of being loved unconditionally. Growing up in the system, I was just one of many, brought together by circumstance, searching for a place to belong. But reality has a way of shattering dreams, of exposing the harsh truths we'd rather ignore.

My story was a peculiar one, even among the countless other children in the system. While many were sought after, I was consistently overlooked. No one wanted me. There was always a reason, always an excuse. Too old, too young. Wrong sex. And then, of course, there was the elephant in the room – my skin color.

Potential parents would whisper to each other, their voices laced with concern, about how it wouldn't be fair to me to be the only one who looked different from the others. But I knew the truth. I saw the way they looked at me, the way their eyes would scan my face, searching for something, anything, that would make me more... palatable.

I didn't need an ancestry DNA test to determine half of my origin- 50% African, a heritage evident in my rich, chocolate-hued skin and the unruly Afro-textured hair that rebels against my every styling attempt. It's a trait Ben has never appreciated, his disdain for my natural beauty a subtle yet piercing wound.

But the other 50% of my heritage remains a mystery, a blank slate that has fueled my imagination and frustration in equal measure. The rejection I faced and the countless times I was told I wasn't what adoptive families were looking for left an indelible mark on my psyche. The words, though spoken years ago, still echo in my mind: "You're not what we're looking for." The pain and anger simmered, eventually boiling over into a caustic sarcasm and sassiness that has become my shield, my armor against the world's hurtful judgments.

I developed a sharp tongue, a preemptive strike against the world's cruelty. I'd lash out, a defense mechanism to shield myself from the hurtful words and judgments that seemed to follow me everywhere. Even Mama Evelyn's tireless efforts to provide me with a semblance of normalcy couldn't erase the fact that I was and always would be, an outsider.

From the earliest days of preschool to the hallowed halls of college, I stuck out like a sore thumb, a constant reminder that I didn't fit the mold. The whispers started early, a gentle hum of curiosity and disdain that grew louder with each passing year. My hair, a wild tangle of Afro-textured curls, was a source of fascination and ridicule. My skin, a rich, dark brown, was a topic of discussion, a constant reminder that I was different.

And then, of course, there were my eyes - an electric blue that seemed to spark a mixture of fascination and bewilderment in those who gazed upon me. They were the final piece of the puzzle, the crowning glory of my unconventional appearance.

For as long as I could remember, I'd been searching for a place to call my own, a sense of belonging that seemed forever out of reach. Every connection attempt, every tentative step towards friendship, felt like a precarious balancing act as if I was teetering on the edge of acceptance.

But then I met Benjamin, and for the first time in my life, everything felt right. It was as if the universe had finally aligned in my favor, and I'd found my missing piece. Our love was a sanctuary, a haven from the cruel whims of fate that had defined my existence. I built my entire world around him, constructing a fragile edifice of happiness and security that I desperately hoped would last.

I was still basking in the glow of my college graduation when Benjamin burst into my life. But little did I know, fate had another curveball waiting for me. The group home I'd called my haven for twenty tumultuous years was slated for demolition, destined to be replaced by the ultimate symbol of soulless consumerism - a shopping mall. The news was a sucker punch to the gut, leaving me reeling.

To make matters worse, my financial situation was precarious at best. I was barely scraping by, working odd hours at the quaint antique shop owned by the kindly Mrs. Witkins. Her gentle guidance and warm smile had been a comforting constant in my life, but even her benevolence couldn't shield me from the uncertainty that loomed ahead.

The orphanage, once a sanctuary, had been crumbling around us for years. The government's economic recession had squeezed the already meager funds, leaving our home on the brink of collapse. My world was disintegrating, and I felt powerless to stop it.

The night before, we received the devastating order to evacuate the property. But Mama Evelyn, the fierce matriarch of our little family, refused to budge. I'll never forget the image that greeted me the next morning: Mama chained to the old swing in front of our home, her eyes blazing with determination. "If they're going to bring down our home," she declared, "I'll go down with it."

I was paralyzed with fear, my heart racing as I begged her to reconsider. The thought of losing her, of losing our home, was too much to bear. But Mama's resolve was unshakeable, her spirit a testament to the unbreakable bonds we'd formed within those crumbling walls.

The memories of that chaotic day are forever etched in my mind. I recall screaming until my voice was hoarse, begging Mama to unchain herself, pleading with the demolition crew to stop their relentless march towards her. The sound of my own desperation still echoes in my mind.

Around me, pandemonium reigned. My other mamas were frantically holding back the younger kids, their faces etched with terror. The scene was one of utter chaos, with people shouting and crying all around us. News reporters, drawn by the commotion, swarmed into the scene, their cameras capturing every heart-wrenching moment.

Amid this bedlam, a gentle voice cut through the din. "Hey, hey...be calm." A soothing balm to my frazzled nerves. I turned to face the speaker, and that's when I saw him – Benjamin. His calm, reassuring presence was a beacon of hope amidst the turmoil.

"I'm a friend," he said, his eyes locked on mine, "and I'm here to help." Little did I know, those words would be the start of a beautiful, life-changing friendship.

Benjamin's intervention was nothing short of miraculous. Within three days, we were back in our beloved home, thanks to his tireless efforts. And as if that wasn't enough, his company, Williams & Smiths, which he co-owned with his best friend, became the sole sponsor of our orphanage for years to come.

But more than that, Benjamin became my rock, my confidant, my first true friend. He'd carve out time from his busy schedule to spend with me, making every moment feel precious. Surprise lunches at the antique shop where I worked, unnecessary detours on our drives home, just so we could steal a few more minutes together – every gesture spoke to his kindness and dedication.

As he'd say with a smile, "Ten minutes is too short for a car drive with you." His words still warm my heart, a reminder of the joy and companionship he brought into my life.

Mama's initial wariness of our friendship gradually gave way to relief, as she witnessed me blossoming into a more confident, outgoing person. And I was ecstatic, feeling like I'd finally found my place in the world.

A year flew by, and our bond grew stronger with each passing day. Mama's skepticism lingered, but it was clear to everyone that our friendship had evolved into something more. The air was electric with tension as we navigated our first dates, our first kiss, and all the thrilling "firsts" that came with falling in love. Every moment with Benjamin felt like a dream come true.

Benjamin became my first love, my only love, the missing piece that made me whole. Our whirlwind romance swept me off my feet, and I felt like I was walking on air. But nothing could have prepared me for the euphoria that followed when he dropped to one knee and proposed a year later. Tears of joy streaming down my face, I nodded eagerly, barely able to believe that this incredible man wanted to spend the rest of his life with me.

Our winter wedding was a fairytale come true – a magical blend of love, laughter, and happily-ever-after promises. As I exchanged vows with Benjamin, surrounded by the people we loved, I felt utterly overwhelmed with emotion. It was as if my heart might burst from the sheer happiness that filled it. I couldn't believe that this kind, gentle, and loving man was finally mine.