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The Moment This Woman Thought All Hope Was Gone

At a cooperate get together, in a room filled with men and women who were top-level business executives, consultants, senior managers, lawyers, and bankers. This woman knew her hope was really gone.

There he first met her.

This woman.

Beautiful and Classy.

A hi.

A hello.

Gentle cradling of her hand for a shake.

Introductions.

She spoke well. Great diction.

She was the regional manager of a bank and had her office in Soroti.

He was a business man dealing in agri-products, with business offices all over East Africa.

They exchanged cards with each promising to call.

They both did.

Then a date.

And another. And another.

He liked her.

She liked him.

All the signs were there.

The rich soft petals of Love were blossoming.

They would make a beautiful pair. If they decided to.

One day, at a dimly lit restaurant in  Mbale,

he took her hands and moved to the edge of his seat.

“My heart’s grown fond of you Agoe.” he said. “I look into your eye and what I see is you and I, like trees planted side by side in Eden, growing old together.Our hearts, like roots going deep, intertwining beyond separation, and our children, fruits sprouting on our branches.

I want you by my side baby, on my side. Damn it, I hate maths. I hate to balance my accounts.”
She smiled.

“I want you as my personal diction teacher. To be there when I pronounce “The Da Vinci code” as “The Da vinsi code” instead of “The Da vinchi code””.

She smiled even more as she remembered the incident.

“I want to see that beautiful smile everyday. Agoe, I love you, and having you in my ever after will make me the happiest person alive. ”

Then on one knee he went, and produced a ring with a gem on it that sparkled in the near dark room.
“Agoe, will you marry me?”

He was smiling now.

For a moment she seemed excited, had her hands over her mouth, and her cheeks flushed.

Then suddenly, suddenly like one possessed by a spirit, she jerked herself, stood hastily, and stormed out of the restaurant.

He followed her.

“stop! Stop! Baby stop. ” he said, panting as he caught up with her in the empty parking lot.

“what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing……. that concerns you.”

“why would you say that? I care. I love you.”

She looked away, and when she turned back at him, she was something different

. “You can’t love me.” she said.

But I do.”

”No you don’t. You can’t. No one can.”

“that’s not true. I love you. And I want to make you the woman in my life.”

“I’m not a woman.”

Silence.

“How do you mean?”

“Who can love a ‘woman’ with ONE BREAST?”

And there in the empty parking lot, she unbuttoned her shirt, unhooked her bra, and there it was.

A big black ugly scar spread over where the left breast should have been.

It was a terrible sight.

The breast had been sliced clean.

Down to the chest.

One could not begin to imagine how a place so titillating, could look. So. Dead.

From experience, she had obviously expected him to cringe at the sight. Puke, or turn away. But he did none of those.

Instead he stood there, eyes on her chest.

He stared unblinkingly, and when she fell and began to sob, he gathered her in his arms and whispered words of love and comfort into her ears.

Later that night in her hotel room, snuggled into him on the sofa, she recounted how it had started. A tiny lump.An ignored tiny lump.

Then more lumps.

Then the shrivelling. That’s when she went to see a doctor.

“It’s cancer” the doctor had said. “your left breast is already affected. If it’s not taken care of immediately, it will spread to the other one, and probably to other parts.”

Taking care of it meant cutting it. Off.

Cut one breast to save one breast.

Since then, she’d lost countless prospective suitors. And at 45, she had given up love. Until him.

“Can I touch it? ” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

And slowly, with shaky hands, she led his hands to her shirt. One by one he unbuttoned her shirt and she was bare. Again. Before him.

His hands found their way into her shirt and unhooked her bra.

When he touched the scar, she shivered.

“I really don’t think losing one breast makes you less of a woman” he said. “You’re a survivor. And that matters.

You see, I’m a one at a time kind of man, and with the size I see, I’m sure by the time I’d be done with this one here, I’ll be 70.”

“why are you doing this?” she asked as a tear dropped from her eye.

“Because I meant it when I said I loved you. A missing breast wouldn’t change how I feel towards you. And before we forget……..” he went on one knee again, and asked,

“Agoe, will you marry me? ”

With her chest bare before him, she had no reason to run this time. No reason to say no. So as she muttered “yes” between hiccup punctuated sobs, she had just one question on her mind.
“what kind of man is this?”

☆Does s/he have a good heart but with one leg missing.
☆Does she have a great personality but with one breast missing.
☆Does s/he love you but was affected by polio in her infancy.

♡Give love a chance and you will forget that there is one thing missing.
And my dear sister, please explore your breasts regularly for any signs of lumps and if there is any, please check into a specialist clinic and get treatment when it’s still early.

There is just one thing you should know ☆DISABILITY IS NOT INABILITY☆ and no matter the circumstances, such people are 100% normal and need to be loved just as they are.

Purely Fiction.Written by: Eninu William. Tel: 0783642052

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