I was adjusting the clasp on my bracelet when I felt Kojo’s presence behind me. His arms came around my waist slowly and naturally, and he pulled me back against his chest in a way that grounded me more than I was prepared for in that moment. I closed my eyes briefly and let myself lean into him just enough to feel it, because there was comfort there that I did not allow myself to depend on often. However, it was always there when I needed it.
“You alright?” he asked, his voice low and close to my ear. There was nothing casual about the question even though he kept his tone calm.
I turned in his arms so I could face him, sliding my hands up along his broad chest until they rested around his neck. When I looked into his eyes, I saw the same man who had stood beside me through every version of my life. This was the man who had never needed an explanation to understand when something was off. That alone made it harder to hold my composure because I knew he would see something if I allowed it to surface, and I could not afford that right now.
“I’ve never been happier,” I told him. The lie came out smooth enough to sound believable, but even as I said it, I felt something tighten inside me because I knew exactly how far it was from the truth.
He studied my face for a moment, his eyes moving in a way that told me he was reading more than my words, and then he leaned in and kissed me. I let myself feel that kiss and paused long enough to appreciate. It was warm and familiar and filled with the kind of love that had survived everything we’d been through, and for a second I allowed myself to imagine what it would feel like to lose that. I imaged what it would be to leave him behind with questions I did not want him to ask.
When he pulled back, his hand came up to my cheek, and his thumb gently brushed along my skin. “You sure, baby?” he asked again, and this time there was something firmer beneath the softness.
“I’m sure,” I replied, holding his gaze long enough to make it believable. I then stepped away before he could press further. If I stayed there any longer, I might have told him everything, and I was not ready to make this real.
I left the room shortly after, keeping my posture composed as I moved through the mansion and out toward the driveway where my men were already waiting near the Maybach. I slid into the backseat and settled in, my hands resting lightly in my lap while the door closed behind me, sealing me into a space that felt far too quiet for everything moving through my mind.
The drive to my doctor’s office was smooth, and I watched the city pass by through the tinted windows without really seeing it because my thoughts were too focused on what was waiting for me at the end of this ride.
By the time we arrived, everything was already arranged. I stepped out of the car and was escorted inside without delay,moving through a private entrance that ensured I would not be seen or interrupted.
My doctor was waiting for me in his office when I entered. He greeted me with a professionalism that did not quite mask the weight of what he was about to say.
I took my seat across from him, crossing my legs and folding my hands while I waited.
He turned the monitor slightly so I could see it, and the image that appeared was one I recognized immediately, even though I had tried not to think about it since the hospital. “We ran additional imaging after your initial scan,” he began, his voice calm and direct. “And the mass we identified has characteristics that are concerning for breast cancer.”
I held his gaze. “What stage?” I asked.
He nodded slightly, as if he respected the directness. “Based on the size of the tumor and the involvement of nearby lymph nodes that we saw on imaging, we are looking at stage two breast cancer,” he explained. “Which means it has grown beyond the very early stage but has not spread to distant parts of the body. That is important because it gives us options for treatment.”
I swallowed once, keeping my face composed even as the wordcancersettled into something real. “Can it be corrected?” I asked.
“It can be treated,” he replied, choosing his words carefully. “At this stage, the standard approach would involve a combination of treatments, which may include surgery to remove the tumor, followed by chemotherapy to address any remaining cancer cells, and possibly radiation depending on how things respond.”
Chemotherapy…
The word sat differently than everything else he said, because it came with images I did not associate with myself. I felt myfingers tighten slightly against each other before I forced them to relax.
“Are there other options?” I asked because I needed to hear it.
“In some cases, depending on the biology of the tumor, we can consider targeted therapies or hormone treatments,” he explained, “but based on what we’re seeing so far, chemotherapy is strongly recommended to give you the best chance at eliminating the disease and reducing the risk of it coming back.”
I looked at the screen again, then back at him, and for the first time, I felt the weight of something I could not control press against me. “And if I don’t do chemotherapy?”
He did not hesitate. “Then the risk of progression increases, and the chances of it spreading become significantly higher, which would make it much more difficult to treat effectively.”
I nodded slowly, even though nothing about this sat right with me. After a moment, I stood because I could not sit here any longer, hearing things I didn’t want to accept.
“I’ll consider my options,” I said. Before he could respond further, I turned and walked out, keeping my posture intact until I reached the car.
The door closed behind me, and the moment the driver pulled away, something inside me finally gave way in a way I could not hold back anymore. I leaned forward slightly, bringing my hand up to cover my mouth as the tears came without permission.
My shoulders moved with it, and I pressed my other hand against my chest like I could contain something that refused to stay contained, because this was not the kind of battle I knew how to fight.
For the first time in a long time, I allowed myself to feel it fully. Not as Abeni Mensah or as the woman people feared or respected, but as a woman sitting in the back of a car with thereality that her life could change in ways she had never prepared for.
As the tears fell, all I could think about was my family, my husband, my son, and my grandchildren, and the possibility of leaving them behind in a way I could not accept.
And, for once, there was nothing I could do but sit there and cry…
