Chapter 1
At the school piano recital, my son’s performance stole the show.
As the applause filled the room, his teacher leaned into the microphone and smiled warmly. “Noah, why don’t you call your parents for a picture?”
Noah’s face lit up as he waved energetically toward the crowd. “Aunt Sabby! Dad! Come on, hurry up!”
I stayed in the audience, watching Michael Lawrence chuckle and nudge a hesitant Sabrina Brooks toward the stage.
Under the spotlight, the three of them looked
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so perfect together, their smiles blending seamlessly into one harmonious picture.
It hit me then, like a quiet, inevitable truth settling over my heart–they looked more like a real family than we ever did.
The applause began to fade, and I slipped out of the auditorium without making a sound. The decision I’d been teetering on for months solidified when I got home. I pulled the divorce papers out of the drawer, which I had prepared but never had the nerve to sign.
There were no claims on assets, no drawn–out fights–just clean, painless closure. I set them
on the kitchen table where Michael would see
them.
Then, I packed a bag.
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I submitted my application to the WHO medical team visiting Africa’s epidemic zones the following day.
There wasn’t anything left to hold me back.
The children in Africa, the ones waiting for help, needed me more than Noah and
Michael ever would.
“You’re about to leave behind an adopted son and a husband,” the WHO official said, his expression sharp but tinged with concern. “This program demands at least five years of your life, with little to no contact with the outside world. Are you fully prepared for this?”
I nodded, my voice steady. “Yes. My husband
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and I have already agreed to a divorce. The woman he loves–she’s kind and responsible, and she is someone Noah is close to. He’ll be in good hands. Nothing is tying me down anymore.”
He leaned back in his chair, frowning as though testing the strength of my resolve. “You’ve applied for a frontline post. You’ll be working in the epidemic hotspots—on call 24/7. The conditions are brutal: extreme heat, rampant diseases, and little rest. Do you think you’re truly ready for that kind of pressure?”
I allowed myself a faint smile. “Of course. I’ve been preparing for something like this for years. My work at the Tropical Diseases
Research Institute has made me more
familiar with extreme conditions. I’ve
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handled outbreaks in scorching 50–degree
heat and have experience on the ground in epidemic zones. You can count on me.
He looked like he wanted to push further, to lay out every grueling detail of what lay ahead. I cut him off gently.
“No matter how dangerous it is, I’m ready. I’m the best candidate for this post right now, am I not? If I back out, who’ll go in my place?”
I thought of my mentor, the doctor who had inspired me to join this line of work. She had gone into an epidemic zone two years ago and never came back. She succumbed to the very disease she had been fighting.
The official’s lips tightened.
His eyes glistened as he spoke again, his voice
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strained. “We’re just…worried. You’re one of
the best pediatric experts we have in this region. If we lose you, it’s not just a personal loss–it’s a loss for every child waiting for treatment. We can’t afford that.”
I looked at him, my determination unwavering. “This mission will succeed. My mentor is gone, but I’ll carry on her work. And if I don’t make it, someone else will step up after me. The oath we take as doctors–that never breaks. This work, this fight, it’s bigger than any of us.”
The tension in the room lingered as I left the office, but I felt lighter than I had in years.
That night, my bank account reflected a $5 million transfer, the initial aid stipend for my
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mission.
I donated the entire amount to the African
Medical Aid Foundation.
It wasn’t about the money but what the money could do.
It was roughly $1 million, based on what I’d saved over the years from my hospital and
research work.
I made one last decision. I would leave it all to
Noah.
Even if he had grown closer to Sabrina, maybe that was for the best. He’d have the family he deserved without the weight of my absence pulling him down.
On my way home, I stopped at a little shop
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and picked up the African drum he’d been eyeing for months. It was small and straightforward, but he had mentioned how
much he loved its sound.
Consider it my parting gift.
From now on, the love I had poured into my little family would go to the children in Africa who desperately needed it.
