Chapter Twelve: Echoes of Her Heartbeat
> Some battles are fought with fists.
Others, with verses.
But the bravest ones—
are fought in waiting rooms,
holding the hand of someone you love.*
---
St. Mary's Hospital – ICU Ward
CJ stood at the glass window, eyes locked on the frail frame in the hospital bed—his mother, a fighter even in her sleep. Tubes whispered, machines beeped steady, and every rise of her chest was a victory.
He hadn't cried. Not yet.
Shantel stood behind him, arms wrapped around his waist, cheek pressed to his back.
"She's still breathing," she whispered. "She's waiting for your next verse."
He turned to face her. "I promised her I'd turn this pain into purpose. Into sound."
Shantel smiled gently. "Then sing louder. For her."
---
Flashback – A Mother's Melody
He remembered the nights when Mama would hum gospel hymns while folding laundry, how she'd call him her "miracle boy with music in his veins."
"Even if your voice shakes," she once said, "use it. Because one day, your voice will hold someone together the way mine holds you."
Now he finally understood.
Now it was his turn.
---
Midnight – The Drop
Shantel stepped out to answer a call from Estelle. A few minutes later, she returned, glowing like sunrise.
"CJ. The label wired the first advance. I've already paid the ICU deposit. She's stable now."
CJ's knees nearly buckled.
He cupped her face, voice thick. "You're the reason I didn't fold. You're more than a muse, Shantel. You're the verse I never dared to write."
Her eyes shimmered. "Then write it. Here. Now."
---
The Rooftop Journal – One Love Letter
Back on the rooftop that had witnessed all their beginnings, CJ sat with his notebook. Shantel lay beside him under the Nairobi sky, her head on his shoulder.
CJ opened to a fresh page. No beats. No crowd. Just ink and heart.
He read aloud:
> "You found me before the fame.
When my words were whispers,
and my worth was measured in rhymes,
you taught me that being loud isn't the same as being heard.
> You didn't just believe in me—
you believed with me.
When I was chasing thrones,
you handed me a mirror.
And I saw a king."
He turned to her, smiling through tears.
"I used to rap to survive. Now… I rap because you gave me a reason to live."
Shantel kissed his cheek. "Then keep living in verses. I'll be the chorus."
---
Inspiration Breaks the City
That night, CJ's unreleased single finally dropped online.
But not for hype.
Not for charts.
It was titled: "Her Heartbeat."
Dedicated to his mother.
Inspired by Shantel.
Gifted to everyone who'd ever felt too broken to dream.
Within hours, the song exploded—shared across East Africa, played in matatus, quoted on TikTok, even featured on a national radio interview.
But CJ didn't care about the stats.
He only cared about the text he got from the nurse the next morning:
> "Your mum smiled today. First time since she arrived."
---
Final Scene – A Love Worth Writing
CJ met Shantel at the park near Umoja Youth Centre—the place where his dream began.
They sat under the jacaranda tree, purple petals falling around them like blessings.
"Blaze texted," CJ said. "He's going to rehab. Said he's ready to unlearn everything that broke him."
Shantel nodded. "Maybe we all are."
They sat in silence for a while. Then she whispered, "CJ… you're not the same boy who chased a mic."
CJ smiled. "No. I'm the man who chased meaning."
He pulled a small leather notebook from his bag and opened to the first page.
In bold, careful ink:
> CJ & Shantel —
From Ash to Anthem.
She leaned over, added a sketch of a microphone blooming into flowers.
A new story had begun.
Together.
---
❤️ To Be Continued...