At nearly nine months, Naomi's discomfort peaked. Swollen feet made walking painful, and false labor pains sent them rushing to a nearby clinic twice. The doctor warned of the need for proper monitoring, quoting high costs that made Zion's stomach drop. "We no fit afford island hospitals," he told Naomi afterward, holding her hands. "But we go find way — maybe government hospital or cheaper private one."The emotional weight crashed one stormy evening. Naomi broke down fully on the mattress, hand on her large belly. "I regret that night with everything in me, Zion. The rain, the kiss, how we let one mistake lead to all this hiding and suffering. We be half-siblings who made a baby. Mama go never forgive us." Tears streamed down her face.Zion pulled her into a gentle hug, careful with her belly, and rocked her softly. "I regret am too — every touch, every choice we made after. I feel like I failed as your brother first. But look at us now. We survived this small room, the hunger days, the fear. This child go know love, even if the world no understand." They stayed like that for hours, foreheads together, sharing silent tears and quiet forgiveness.That same night, after much discussion, they made the call. Zion dialed Mama's number with shaking hands. Her voice broke immediately: "Zion? Naomi? My children… where una dey? I don dey worry die!" They spoke for over an hour, crying as they revealed pieces of the truth — the pregnancy, their love, the deep regret over their blood ties, but not every intimate detail. Mama was shocked and hurt, but her love poured through: "Come home. No matter wetin, una be my own. We go talk am as family. Abeg no born that pikin for that small room."Aunty Bola joined the call later, her loud voice softened by tears. "My fine girl, carry that belle come. We go help." The conversation brought a mix of relief and fresh shame, but also hope. Zion and Naomi held each other afterward, the weight lifting slightly. "One mistake no go define us forever," Zion whispered, stroking her hair.