RIZ
WHEN I saw Pauline, I couldn’t cry. I just kept looking at her pale and lifeless body. She was so small. I held her tiny fingers and I didn’t want to let go. I badly wanted to go with her. I wanted to die at that moment too. This is not how I imagined my first time meeting my daughter.
I loved her so much even though there was no certainty that I would be held accountable by her father back then. I didn’t even know where to start looking or how to tell him about my pregnancy.
I faced the anger of my parents. I received a mix of physical pain and hurtful words, but even so, I couldn’t give up my child.
Pauline gave me hope. My daughter gave me the strength and will to continue living my miserable life. I wanted to be a better person because of her.
Her remains were cremated, and I
