Here is Chapter 28: Letters to the Unborn, a quiet but powerful chapter where words become seeds planted in the hearts of future daughters—and in the healing souls of the women writing them.
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Chapter 28: Letters to the Unborn
It began with a whisper during tea.
Chido had been journaling on the back porch, a cup of lemongrass beside her, when she said softly,
"I wish someone had written to me before I became me."
Bonitah , overhearing, turned.
"What do you mean?"
Chido looked up. "I mean… before I was hardened by life. Before the betrayal, before the silence. I wish I had a letter from the woman I would one day become. Or from the mother I never met. Something to say, 'You're going to survive this. And you'll be more than survival.'"
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That night, Tariro couldn't sleep.
She thought of all the girls—seen and unseen.
The ones still in wombs.
The ones never born.
The ones in each of them—the younger selves, the innocent selves, the bruised but bright selves.
And she made a decision.
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The next morning, she brought a basket to the Centre. Inside:
Blank sheets.
Envelopes.
Pens.
Candles.
She placed them in the Seed Library, beneath a sign that read:
> **"Letters to the Unborn.
Write to the daughter you never had.
Or the girl you once were