Chapter two: Ophelia

Slowly, my eyes came open to focus on what appeared to be a room. At first, and for a long time, nothing made sense. Eventually, it clicked. I understood based on the posters on the walls and the strong scent of antiseptics in the air. This was a hospital.

I looked down on myself, finding numerous tubes attached on me. Flashes of the accident, divorce and the overthrow flashed before my eyes.

My throat tightened.

The question now was how had I made it here? Was it the work of a good Samaritan?

The door swung open and a nurse worked in. She gasped at first, then wore a wide smile. “Oh my goodness.” She turned to head out, but for some reason, stopped in her tracks.

She started towards me.

“Good morning, ma'am. I'm sure you're confused but you're in safe hands,” she said apologetically.

“How serious are my injuries?” I asked. I knew I'd been involved in an accident. I wanted her to knowanswered I was aware.

“Not so significant,” she replied.

“I lost consciousness. I'm pretty sure that's significant.”

She stared at me. After a while of contemplating her choices, she answered, “You had a concussion, and a fractured tibia.”

Glancing down at my legs, I saw the thick bandage that was wrapped around the right one.

“Besides that, there's nothing much. I'm so glad you've come around. The doctors have been working tirelessly.”

She came around to be sure the machines still worked, before heading off to call the doctors.

With my eyes closed, I cursed my luck. Why hadn't I died in that accident? What was there to live for?

I shut my eyes close, although the accudent long occured, a wave of relief washed over me as though I had been hit with adrenaline. I wished I had died in that accudent. What was there to live for? Absolutely nothing.

The doctors came in later on to check me. My vitals were relatively normal, all was good.

I was then introduced to the couple who had spotted my vehicle by the side of the road. They had pulled me out before it could burst into flames.

Although, there was no reason for me to live, I thanked them for their kindness.

“It's nothing. That's the least we can do,” said the elderly woman, Mrs. James. Her husband, was equally a senior doctor at the hospital. The olds had been against me again.

“Sure,” I said and looked away to the window. The day was bright, a stark contrast to my mood.

“If you're up to it, we'd like to know what happened?” the woman asked. “Did you lose control? Saw a stray animal?”

I jammed my teeth together, feeling the back of my eyes prick from tears.

“Don't push her. She's just recovering,” her husband, Dr. James, said.

“I don't know what happened back there.” I sniffed, and then broke out laughing. “It's all my fault. I guess I was carried away by something.”

I said all this without looking at the woman nor her husband. If they saw through my lie, they said nothing of it.

“It's okay. The most important is that you're alive and okay,” said Dr. James.

Something flashed in my mind. What if Kent had tried to reach out to me? I had practically stormed out of the boardroom long before the meeting ended. Had he realised his mistakes and chased after me, only to lose my trail? I couldn't say.

“Can I use your phone?” I asked the woman.

“Sure.” She reached for her purse, handing the phone to me. I didn't take it, instead stared at the device like it was a bomb. An idea has sprung in my mind.

“It's around ten am, right?” I asked.

The woman glanced at her writswatch. “Yeah, but a couple of minutes to eleven.”

“Can I get a copy of the daily? The major newspapers, including Business World?” I asked.

They looked at me confused.

“I'll pay for the trouble. I'll just get my purse…” I looked around, but couldn't find it anywhere. Shit. Had it been left in the car?

“It's okay, dear. You don't need to pay. We're glad to help out in any way we can.” The woman said, before shoving some dollar bills to her husband who left to get the papers.

Some minutes later, he returned with a stack. As soon as I set my eyes on them, my heart leapt. I scrolled through every one of them, my heart scattering at the minute.

As I had feared, the overthrow had made the news. Kent had been pictured in what used to be my office. Behind him was was the table he had been fucking Samara on. My tongue grew bitter. There had been no mention of me or the accident even though it had been…

“How long have I been here?” I asked.

“Two days,” the doctor replied.

It had been two days since I was admitted and there had been no mention of me or the accident. I could smell a cover-up. It broke my heart that Kent and Samara were likely behind it.

I pushed the newspapers aside, and asked for some time alone to collect my thoughts, and to weep myself to sleep.

***

It took another two days for the news to hit the television mad newspapers: Ophelia Lewia’ vehicle was found mangled in a secluded backroad, burnt beyond recognition. There was no sign of me, thus leading many to believe I was dead.

Kent had the nerve to appear in a press conference as a grieving husband. He didn't even make effort to have the police conduct a dearch. No, he simply relished the idea that I was dead.

I muted the television, and heaved out of the bed. A nurse was meant to lead me to a wheelchair, since my right leg was still virtually useless from the fracture. It was painful, but I succeeded in getting myself into the chair and straight to the bathroom.

When I returned, Dr. James was in, waiting.

“How are you doing today?” he asked with a smile.

“Not bad.” My gaze fell on the notepad he held. I had earlier taken some blood tests. Just something routine, as they had put it.

“We have some news “ he said, with a neutral expression. My heart leapt. What could that be? Cancer, blood disease, what?

Despite my fears, I dared to ask “I'm all ears, doctor.”

He breathed a sigh, looked me straight in the eye and said, “You're six weeks pregnant.”