The sun rose as it always did in the quiet town of Akure, but inside the Adetola home, peace was a stranger.

Busola had barely slept. Her eyes burned, not just from the lack of rest, but from hours of silent crying beside her son. She lay on the thin mat next to Tobi, who, as usual, had drifted off only after several hours of rocking and humming—Busola’s arms sore, her lips dry, but her heart still beating with hope… or what was left of it.

That morning, her husband Segun stormed into the room holding a crumpled letter from his office.
“They’ve suspended me,” he barked. “Again. You promised his noise wouldn’t reach the neighbors anymore. You said he’d change!”

Busola’s body trembled, but she didn’t speak. What could she say? That she, too, wished she knew how to “change” Tobi? That she wasn’t the one disturbing the peace, but simply trying to hold it together?

Segun left, slamming the door behind him, his resentment echoing through the house.

That day, the walls felt closer. Every creak of the wooden floor, every squeak from the neighbor’s metal gate sounded louder than usual. But Tobi’s world was the loudest of all.

He ran up and down the small corridor, slapping the wall, humming a single high-pitched sound repeatedly. He banged his toys on the floor, not in anger, but as though trying to feel something through the vibrations. Busola watched him from the doorway, her body weak and sore from constant tension.

Then it happened.

She collapsed.

It wasn’t the dramatic fall people expected. It was subtle—like a candle snuffed out. Her knees gave in, her hand lost grip on the doorknob, and her body slid down against the wall like forgotten laundry.

The hospital bed was hard. The fluorescent lights harsh.

Busola blinked slowly, adjusting to the sterile brightness. Nurse Ladi stood beside her with a clipboard.

“You fainted due to exhaustion,” she said gently. “Low blood pressure, stress, malnutrition. Madam, you need to rest.”

“I can’t rest,” Busola whispered, her voice thin as papyrus. “My son… he needs me.”

Nurse Ladi sat beside her, softer now.
“I know. But you can’t pour from an empty cup.”

The moment Busola returned home, she knew something had changed.

Tobi sat quietly—too quietly—in the corner of the room, his toy cars lined up meticulously. Segun stood awkwardly behind him, unsure, but trying.

“I didn’t know he liked lining things,” Segun said, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I Googled it. They said it’s something… autistic children do.”

Busola’s eyes widened, tears filling them again—but not from pain this time.

“You searched about it?” she whispered.

Segun nodded.
“I don’t get it… But maybe I want to.”

That night, Segun held Tobi while Busola finally slept.
It was awkward, but real.
The beginning of something new.

Something like understanding.

Or maybe, love without conditions.

To be continued…

 

📩 For Trainings:

As a non-profit organization, we provide both virtual and in-person behavioral training for parents and caregivers of children diagnosed with autism.  For families who may need more personalized support, we also offer individualized Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) services. These services focus on promoting socially significant behavior change—supporting skill acquisition, behavior modification, and reduction programs designed to enhance the development, abilities, and independence of children on the autism spectrum.

Email us at:
📬 info@hope4autismfamilies.com

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Disclaimer:

The characters in this story are fictional; however, the events and situations depicted are true to life.