Chapter 16: Being at Peace

Not every battle is loud. Some are fought in silence in the patience it takes to wait for someone to understand you, and the courage it takes to speak even when you're not sure they'll listen. Sometimes, the deepest change doesn't show up in big wins, but in small shifts like your mum saying, I liked it, instead of brushing it off. This chapter isn't about applause. It's about presence. It's about finding your voice and finally using it, not to scream, but to connect. It's not her shouting, "I'm proud of you!" It's the softened tone, the listening eyes, the plate of food served without a word. That's the win.

A call came in. It was Dawn Bill. He followed up with a text: "How are you? What have you been up to lately?" I was surprised but it was a warm surprise. A soft opening in my day. I replied that things were going well. Told him about the upcoming project I was working on. I asked about work, and he explained how busy he'd been, but still made time to hear from me. He wished me well before ending the call.

POV: Wow. Hearing from someone you love? It really does make everything easier.

Minutes later, Ama and Nice walked into my room, catching me grinning from ear to ear. They gave me that look. "Why are you smiling like that?" Ama asked, teasing. I waved them off and pulled them to my bed. I want to talk to you about my project, I said, and how I want you both to be part of it. They exchanged knowing glances.

Ama said, We know that's not what made you smile like that, but let's pretend we don't know. So, little liar, what do you want from us? I laughed. "I'm writing about the power of communication about not assuming. It's about us and I want to use it to reach people like us." 

Ama nodded. Hmmm... that's nice, sis. You're always doing the exceptional.

Nice added, Okay, I'm in. But tell me something... why do you think we were so different from each other before?"

They didn't wait for me to answer. They answered it themselves.

Ama and Nice, in sync, said, "The society we found ourselves in made us forget what life used to be before the daily struggle to survive. We forgot we could create peace for ourselves even in a chaotic world. In that process, we lost ourselves growing up with one programmed mindset and not knowing how to open up. We thought that once we had money, we could fix the things we couldn't do when we were poor... but we were wrong. Now we can talk, ask questions, joke, laugh. Even Mum and Dad after a long day now sit, eat, check up on us, and laugh with us. Unlike before, when they'd come home, go straight to bed, and give us the next day's instructions in a rush.

We're glad we can now talk to our big sister. We can share your things, respect you, even knock on your door before coming in. We're proud of what we're building especially the ability to speak without fear, without shouting, without being ignored. Now, even when you're not around, we can still hear your voice because you taught us to speak gently and clearly. 

We thought the shouting and silence was normal because that's what everyone else was doing. But it wasn't. We assumed if we spoke, no one would care. That it wouldn't matter. But now... we know better."

And in their words, I heard everything I'd hoped for. Quietly, my tears agreed.

Their words stayed with me, lingering longer than I expected. Not because they were perfect, but because they were real. There was no performance in them just truth, plain and honest. Later that night, I found myself staring at the ceiling. No music, no lights. Just stillness. And in that stillness, I thought of all the times I wished they understood me. All the times I walked away angry, misunderstood, or just... exhausted. I didn't want an apology. I wanted connection. That was always it.

But connection takes time. And time doesn't always show up with a trumpet. Sometimes it sneaks in as small moments, a shared joke, an inside glance, an I get younod across the room. I sat up, pulled out my journal, and wrote one sentence: Maybe we're healing without calling it healing."

Not everything needed to be dramatic. Not every change needed to come with fireworks. Some came with laughter in the kitchen, soft knock on the door, or Mum asking if I wanted extra without any insult tied to it. This wasn't a transformation I planned. 

It was one that came quietly, through listening, and staying, even when it felt easier to leave. Maybe for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I had to prove myself in this house. I could just be. And so could they.

I remembered when silence used to mean something was wrong. Now, it could just mean peace. That shift felt like a luxury.

sentence? It followed me all day. Not because it came with a lecture but because it didn't. It was simple, direct, and... concerned. In her own way, that was care. It didn't sound like judgment or pressure. Just a mother, quietly learning how to speak a new language one made of trust, not control.

Later, Nice sent me a playlist. For the mood of your writing, he texted, with a smiley face. It had old-school soul music, soft R&B, and even some Afrobeat ballads. I laughed. He was listening more than I thought.

Ama dropped a cup of tea beside me while I typed. She didn't ask for thanks. Just sat near my feet, scrolling through her phone. We didn't talk much, but the silence was warm. Comforting. Familiar in a good way.

I remembered when silence used to mean something was wrong. Now, it could just mean pe

ace. That shift felt like a luxury.