In her name

of a tiny, helpless figure. A wailing infant, no older than a month, lay abandoned on the cold, cracked pavement, her little body curled into itself for warmth. The sight of her struck

with all the unspoken years. The two women sat down together, catching up on their lives as the evening wore on. Mrs. Chinasa asked Abike about her future, her plans, and whether she had settled down yet. Abike smiled softly, shaking her head. "No, not yet. I'm still focused on my future. There's time for all that later," she said, though her words carried a hint of longing, as if the idea of starting a family of her own was far from her reach. As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the orphanage grounds, Abike stood up to leave. She kissed Darego on the forehead, her heart heavy with the realization that so much time had passed, and so much had changed. But there was hope in her eyes as she promised Darego, "I'll be back. I haven't forgotten you." Darego's face remained unreadable as she was handed back to Mrs. Chinasa, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes, something that made Abike believe that, in time, Darego would remember her. Later that evening, as the lights in the orphanage dimmed and the other children settled into their beds, Darego sat quietly by the window, gazing out at the darkened world. Her close friend, Nne, sat beside her, and the two of them watched as families came and went, adopting children, taking them away to lives they could only dream of. "Do you think someone will come for us?" Nne asked softly, her voice full of a child's innocent hope. "Maybe someone will come and take us home." Darego didn't answer at first, her mind too full of the strange woman who had appeared today, Abike. She knew she had seen her before, but the memories were foggy. The woman had called her name, held her tight, and yet, it was as if a veil had fallen over her past. "I don't know," Darego said quietly, turning her gaze back to the window. "Maybe one day." Nne nodded, but there was a sadness in her eyes. Both of them understood, in some way, that while the world outside seemed to move on, they remained here, waiting, wondering when their turn would come. When someone would look past the walls of the orphanage and see them, truly see them, and take them home. But until then, they would hold on to each other. Because, in a world where so much had been taken from them, the bond between them was the only thing they had left. Three years later, Darego was now 8 years old. She had started attending school lessons at the orphanage, and though she was a bright and curious child, there was always a lingering sense of something missing. She had grown used to the routine of orphanage life, playtime, school lessons, and the comforting presence of Mrs. Chinasa, who had become a mother figure to many of the children. But there was still a void in her heart, one she couldn't quite name. Abike had returned to town, and the day she came to visit the orphanage, Darego didn't know what to expect. She had seen her a few times over the years, but each visit left her feeling both familiar and distant. Abike was someone she recognized, but the memories of her were fuzzy, like a photograph left in the rain, the details blurred beyond recognition. Still, Darego knew in her heart that this woman had once meant something very important to her. The connection was there, but the bridge between them had been weakened by time. As Abike approached, Darego stood by the window, watching with wide eyes. She knew it was her, even though the memories of their time together were scattered like pieces of a broken puzzle. Abike's smile, the warmth in her eyes, the way she carried herself, everything about her felt like home, even if Darego couldn't fully recall why. She felt an overwhelming rush of emotion, both joy and confusion. After that visit, Abike started coming around more regularly. She'd bring little gifts for Darego, clothes, toys, or treats, and they would sit together, talking about school, the weather, or Abike's life. But each time they spoke, Darego couldn't help but wonder why she wasn't with Abike. Why didn't Abike take her home? She wanted to ask, but the question seemed too heavy, too painful to voice. So she waited, hoping that, one day, the answer would come. One afternoon, while sitting in the quiet of her room at the orphanage, Darego decided she couldn't wait any longer. She had to know. She would ask Abike the question that had been bothering her for so long. It was a simple question, but one that carried the weight of her longing, Why don't you adopt me? That day, as the sun dipped low in the sky, Darego waited anxiously for Abike's arrival. She paced around the room, glancing out the window every few minutes, hoping for the sight of Abike walking toward the orphanage gates. Her heart raced as she imagined what it would feel like to finally go home with her, to be the one she chose. It was the only thing Darego wanted in the world. Nne, her closest friend, sat beside her. Nne had always been there for Darego, her constant companion and confidante. They would play together, study together, and share secrets that only they understood. As they both watched the road outside, Nne's eyes were filled with a gentle hope, but there was a quiet sadness behind them. She knew what Darego was thinking, and she knew the question her friend was too afraid to ask. Every hour, Darego would race to Mrs. Chinasa's office, her heart pounding in her chest. "Is she here yet?" she would ask, her voice trembling with anticipation. But each time, Mrs. Chinasa would give her the same answer, an answer that crushed Darego a little more each time. "No, my dear. She isn't here yet," Mrs. Chinasa would say gently, though there was an understanding in her eyes. She knew Darego's heart was aching, knew that the question Darego wanted to ask was one that could break her young heart. But Mrs. Chinasa said nothing. She had seen this kind of longing before. The children at the orphanage often dreamed of being chosen, of finding a family to take them in, and some of them had already found their new homes. Others, like Darego, were still waiting. Two years later, Darego was now 10 years old. Her peers, the ones who had been around her age when she first arrived, were slowly leaving the orphanage, adopted by families who had come to take them in. While Darego was happy for them, she couldn't help but feel a deep sense of loss each time one of her friends was chosen. They were leaving, moving on to new lives, while she stayed behind, still waiting, and still hoping for a family to choose her. On one particularly sunny afternoon, a family came to adopt Nne. Darego knew it was coming, but it still hit her like a wave crashing against the shore. Nne had always been her closest friend, the one person who had been there through everything, the good, the bad, the moments of joy and the moments of sadness. Now, Nne was leaving, and Darego was terrified of being alone. When the family arrived, Darego ran to Nne, tears already streaming down her face. She threw her arms around her friend and held her tightly, not wanting to let go. She cried deeply, her heart aching at the thought of losing her. She had never wanted to be separated from her friend, but now, it was happening. "I don't want you to go, Nne," Darego sobbed, her voice breaking. "Please, don't leave me." Nne pulled away, gently wiping away Darego's tears. She smiled softly, though her own eyes were filled with sadness. "You can always come visit me, Darego. I'll be waiting for you." "Promise?" Darego asked, her voice trembling with the hope that Nne would keep her word. "I promise," Nne said, her voice steady despite the tears in her own eyes. "Friends forever, right?" Darego nodded, the words catching in her throat. "Friends forever." And with that, Nne was gone, leaving Darego standing there in the quiet of the orphanage, the empty space around her echoing with the weight of her loss. She watched as her friend was taken away, into a new life, a new family. And as she stood there, Darego couldn't help but wonder if her time would ever come. Would anyone ever choose her? Would she ever find a family to call her own? As she walked back to her room, Darego clutched the promise Nne had made to her tightly in her heart. She didn't know if she would ever see Nne again, but she would keep that promise. She would carry it with her, always holding on to the memory of the friend she had lost. And deep in her heart, Darego continued to hope, for a family, for love, for a place to belong. That night, Darego sat in her room all alone. The orphanage, once a place of comfort, now felt cold and empty. Nne was no longer there to keep her company, no longer there to laugh and play with her during the long afternoons. The silence was deafening. She had grown accustomed to the presence of her friend, and now that she was gone, the void in her heart felt even larger. The other children had their families or were being adopted, but Darego was still here, still waiting for something that seemed more and more unlikely. She stared at the ceiling, tears welling in her eyes. The loneliness had settled deep within her, thick and suffocating. Why doesn't anyone want me? She wondered, her mind spiraling into dark thoughts. Am I ugly? Am I possessed? Is there something wrong with me? She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to push away the painful thoughts, but they clung to her like shadows, refusing to be ignored. Is it because I'm not good enough? The question felt like an insurmountable weight on her chest. She had always tried her best to be a good child, obedient and kind, but despite that, no one had come for her. The other kids came and went, adopted into loving homes. But she? She remained, year after year, watching from the sidelines as her friends walked away with their new families. It wasn't that she wanted to resent them, but the pain of seeing others chosen while she was left behind was becoming too much to bear. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them close to her chest as if trying to protect herself from the ache that threatened to swallow her whole. The night felt impossibly long. The loneliness was a constant companion now, and she had no idea how much longer she could endure it. Five years passed, and Darego was now 15 years old. She was no longer the little girl who had arrived at the orphanage, wide-eyed and full of hope. She had grown into a teenager, but the years hadn't brought her any closer to the family she longed for. She had watched as more and more children, some younger, some older, came and went, their lives shifting and changing as they found families to call their own. But Darego remained. She had become the oldest child at the orphanage, and with that title came an uncomfortable sense of embarrassment. It wasn't just that she was the oldest, but it was also the fact that she felt like she had outgrown the orphanage in a way that no one had prepared her for. The other children would call her "Aunt Darego" out of respect, but sometimes it stung to hear them say it. She wasn't ready to be anyone's aunt, she was still just a girl who needed a family of her own. Yet here she was, surrounded by younger children, none of whom knew what it felt like to wait as long as she had. One afternoon, Darego couldn't take it anymore. The burden of unanswered questions and unspoken fears had become too heavy, and she decided to go to Mrs. Chinasa. The woman who had been a mother figure to her all these years, who had comforted her, laughed with her, and guided her through the toughest times. Mrs. Chinasa had always been there, a constant presence of kindness and wisdom, but now Darego needed more than just comforting words. She found Mrs. Chinasa in her office, sorting through papers. When Mrs. Chinasa looked up and saw Darego standing there, her face softened immediately. She knew something was wrong, Darego had a way of looking at her when she needed to talk, when the weight of her heart was too much to bear. "Mrs. Chinasa," Darego began, her voice shaky, "Is there something wrong with me?" The question came out in a whisper, barely audible, but Mrs. Chinasa heard the desperation behind it. She set down the papers and looked at Darego, her eyes full of compassion. "My dear," Mrs. Chinasa said gently, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. "There is nothing wrong with you. You are perfect just as you are. Sometimes, things take time. God's timing is always the best." She smiled softly, but there was a sadness in her eyes, a deep knowing that she couldn't fully explain to the girl in front of her. "You are here for a reason, Darego. You are special, and when the right time comes, your family will find you." But Darego's heart wasn't soothed by those words. She had heard them before, year after year, and they had begun to feel like empty promises. She nodded silently, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to spill. It wasn't that