Mina rushed in behind the nurse, anxiety clinging to her like a second skin. Inside the ICU, she spotted her sister a few beds away, struggling on the sickbed while the nurse attended to other patients.
"Nurse, what happened?" Mina inquired, her voice tight with tension.
The nurse paused briefly. "Your sister needs help; she wants to ease herself. I was busy with another patient when she asked me to call you. I had to excuse myself and rush out. My apologies for not answering you sooner."
"Oh. Thank you, ma'am." Mina hurried to her sister's side to assist her.
As Safiya settled back into the pillows, Mina meditated internally: Lately, he had been hanging around these sterile halls long after the original purpose of his presence had faded. The air seemed to soak in a stillness that offered a refuge. The urge to confess was there, but perhaps this wasn't the right place. Perhaps the confession should be mine as well.
Mina settled into a chair directly behind her sister's bed, a paperback novel resting on her knee, her eyes closed and unfocused. The warm, dim light from the bedside lamp touched her face, highlighting the graceful curve of her neck and the tired lines of fatigue etched between her eyes. Her headscarf was slightly askew, revealing slim strands of dark hair she had failed to keep entirely in check.
To any observer, she seemed utterly worn out, ragged at the edges from the anxiety and the endless nights of keeping vigil. Yet, in her vulnerability, she appeared indestructible, imbued with a silent, natural power.
He left some hours ago, Mina's internal monologue continued. There were contracts on his desk, emails requiring answers, and a world of obligations far beyond these hospital walls. But instead, he stayed, propping himself against the cold metal of the doorframe, content to simply watch over us. This urge to help—it was something so deep and unsettling he couldn't even give it a name, but it felt like the purest form of kindness.
She picked up her phone and dialed Adams. He answered the moment it rang. "Hello, are you at home or at work?" Mina inquired.
"I am both," Adams responded kindly. "I'm at home, but I'm working on the book we are about to publish."
"Earlier, you were staring at me in silence. Why?" she asked in a lower tone, with just a trace of teasing.
He laughed softly. "Perhaps you caught me. Perhaps I was."
Her lips parted slightly as she replied, "I think there's something more—something warmer, though not yet fully open." She shook her head with a mild, embarrassed motion and glanced toward her sister, but the faint glow overspreading her cheeks was a quiet self-confession.
On the other end, he laughed—not with grand statements, but with that powerful, subtle warmth he kept guarded. There was something in the resonance of his voice that seemed to be drawing her toward a confession of her own.
"A stranger should be terrifying to me," Mina admitted. "Instead, you inexplicably created something warm and special inside of me. I never expected you, but I believe God sends angels to us in many forms."
"You should stop your poetry there," Adams replied, gently teasing her. "But I appreciate your kindness as well. Not everyone is willing to accept help from a stranger."
"Sorry, I will call you back," Mina whispered, calmly excusing herself. "The nurse just stepped in to talk to me."
"The doctors are calling it a miracle," the nurse announced with a smile. "Safiya will be discharged tomorrow. She has responded so rapidly to the treatment that the heart issue has retreated. She is still weak, but she is vibrantly alive."
Safiya sat up properly, regaining her strength and her voice while the nurse replaced the bandage on the surgical site. The hospital room that once felt like a cage of fear was suddenly a place of bustling preparation. Mina began folding Safiya's clothes into a small bag, her movements light, almost giddy. The ordeal was over.
She sent a text to Adams informing him of the development. He called immediately. "That's great news. I'll call Sadiq to get the details. Also, I'll send Emmanuel, my driver, to handle your transportation tomorrow. I'll be tied up with work."
"Okay, thank you," Mina responded warmly before the call ended.
That night, in the quiet room where the rhythm of her breathing was soft against the pillow, Mina fell into a fitful slumber in the stiff chair. She was awakened by the tolling of the morning prayer bell. She rose, washed, and prayed.
Adams called the moment she finished to inform her the driver was on his way. As she answered, she smiled. "Good morning, sir. I hope your night was splendid? Thank you for everything. May God bless and protect you in all your affairs."
He remained silent for a moment, listening. When she finished, he responded, "Gratitude is a safe harbor. Whether it is bought, sold, or given freely, the sentiment is never unequal. I appreciate your kind words; they've turned this into something flowery. It is a leap into the unknown. May the Lord be sufficient for us both. We will talk later. Bye."
They received the discharge papers that morning. Emmanuel arrived early and drove them home. They reached their apartment exhausted and retreated for a much-needed rest. Later, Mina began to clean the house and catch up on chores.
The door to the room swung open without a knock. This time, it wasn't a nurse. It was Mina's mother, Hajiya Rukayya, arriving from Abuja. She stood in the doorway, a solid, imposing figure in traditional attire, her headtie perfectly starched. Her face, usually a mask of weary resilience, was etched with deep lines of concern. She had taken the first available flight from Abuja after returning from the Niger Republic.
"Mama!" Safiya exclaimed, a genuine smile spreading across her face.
Mina's smile was more hesitant. She watched her mother's sharp eyes scan the room, taking inventory: the vibrant orchids on the windowsill, the expensive fruit basket, and the new, plush blanket draped over Safiya's legs.
"My children," Mama said, her voice a low rumble. She moved toward Safiya first, cupping her face, her eyes glistening with tears of relief. "You gave us a fright." Then she turned to Mina. "You have lost weight."
"It's been a stressful time, Mama. I called several times, but I couldn't reach you. I had to ask others to find a way to get word to you," Mina said, moving to hug her. Her mother's embrace was stiff, her attention already drifting.
"Whose car was that? The black one downstairs? The driver said it belongs to you?" her mother inquired, her tone deceptively casual.
Mina took a slow breath. "It's... it's a friend's car, Ma. He was kind enough to let us use it while Safiya was ill."
"A friend?" her mother repeated, the word hanging heavily in the air. She picked up one of the expensive gifts from the bedside table. "A friend gave you this? And these flowers?" She gestured toward the orchids. "These are not mere 'get well' flowers. Who is this friend?"