More than enough

Name: More than enough
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Nisha77

Romance | Completed

5.0

Comment(s)

View

Chapters

Born into poverty and burdened with the weight of a fragile body, Adesewa's life seemed written in the shadows marked by endless hospital visits, academic struggles, and the cruel rejection of love from those who couldnt see past her health condition. An AS patient in a society that sees her as unfit for marriage or motherhood, she is told over and over that she will never be enough. But Adesewa is more than her genotype, more than the expectations placed upon her. With quiet strength and unshakable faith, she rises above every storm earning her degree in medicine, defying the odds, and eventually finding a man who loves her not despite her condition, but because of her heart. Together, they build a life of meaning, joy, and purpose. Even when fate calls her too soon, Adesewa leaves behind more than memories she leaves a living legacy. A school for underprivileged youth, a future for her children, and a husband who carries her vision forward with unrelenting devotion. More Than Enough is a soul-stirring novel of pain, perseverance, and the eternal impact of a life lived with love.

Legend Family Modern First love Love triangle

Chapter 7 The Ties That Bind

The day before yesterday 10:26

Chapter 1 Shadows of Birth

She was born just before sunrise, in a room that smelled like Dettol and boiled rice. Her mother, Sade, always said it was a strange kind of morning-too quiet for a house that usually echoed with the cries of children and the clatter of mismatched kitchen pots.

The baby didn't cry at first. The midwife panicked, briefly. Not that anyone admitted it, but you could feel the tension. Everyone held their breath... until she let out the tiniest, sharpest squeal. Like a kitten, maybe. Or a bird that didn't know it was small.

They named her Adesewa. It means "the crown of beauty" or something along those lines. Names always meant more than one thing in Yoruba, depending on who was translating. Her father, Baba Tunde, said she looked like light. Her grandmother said she looked like trouble. Both would be right in different ways.

From the beginning, she was... delicate. Not sickly exactly, just often tired. She'd sleep too long, or too little. Her fingers were cold in July. She'd cough sometimes, for no clear reason, then stop. It was easy to miss at first. Poor people dont always catch the signs early we're too busy managing. Managing rent. Managing rice. Managing prayers that feel like bargains.

But then came the fevers.

They werent loud. No convulsions or screaming. Just heat. Quiet heat that sat on her like a wet cloth. And her lips would turn the wrong shade. You know the kind of wrong that doesn't need explaining? That kind.

Eventually, her parents scraped enough for a hospital visit. Not the private kind, obviously. A place with peeling walls and nurses who had seen too much to pretend they hadn't.

That's where the word came up. That short, almost casual phrase that would end up shaping her entire life: "She's AS."

Her mother blinked. "AS?"

The doctor nodded like he was saying the sky was blue. "Sickle cell trait."

Not sickle cell disease, no. Just the trait. But still... still.

Sade tried to understand. Asked the right questions. The doctor spoke too fast. Baba Tunde didn't say much at all. He just stared at the wall, like the wall might have a better answer than the man in the white coat.

Now, if you're reading this and you know the AS genotype, you probably understand the tension. But if you don'there's the thing: AS isn't always dangerous. People live with it. Thrive even. But when it comes to relationships, marriage, children... that's where it gets complicated. If two AS carriers marry, there's a chance maybe 25% that their child could be born SS. Full sickle cell disease. Painful. Dangerous. Often deadly.

And that little probability? It's enough to scare people. Enough to turn love into statistics. Choices into fear.

But Adesewa was just a baby then. Soft skin, curious eyes. She didnt know anything about genes or society or stigma. All she knew was the warmth of her mother's hands, and the quiet hum of a home trying its best.

No one knew yet how hard things would get.

Not even her.