Chapter 7

EMMA POV

The hospital doors swung open with a cold whoosh early in the morning, and I rushed inside, the scent of antiseptic, drugs and sickness filling my nose. My breath came in short gasps, and my chest tightened. The money, I had it now, clenched tightly in my sweaty palm. I'd sacrificed everything I had—my savings, my pride, my future. But none of that mattered anymore I am grown. What mattered was my mom, who lay in a hospital bed somewhere in this labyrinth of suffering.

I pushed past nurses and visitors, dodging gurneys and IV stands, my heart pounding as I raced toward Dr. Aaron's office. Each step echoed my fears. I was scared, terrified really, that this time I’d be too late. By the time I got there, I’d be greeted by solemn faces and bad news. My mind raced through the worst scenarios: What if she didn’t make it? What if I wasn’t fast enough? Then I sacrificed everything for nothing.

But when I finally reached Dr. Aaron’s door, out of breath and frantic, I saw him sitting behind his desk, his white coat contrasting starkly against the dark wood of his office. He looked up, his face unreadable for a moment, and then he sighed, leaning back in his chair.

“We’ve been expecting you,” he said, his voice calm but laced with fatigue. “I know things are tough, but I didn’t neglect your mom.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realise I was holding, my legs feeling weak beneath me.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice breaking with a mixture of exhaustion and gratitude. “Thank you for keeping her stable. I got the money you asked for. Please, let me make the payment so you can proceed on her surgery.”

Dr. Aaron stood, his expression softening for a moment as he nodded. “Follow me. We’ll take care of everything.”

We walked in silence, the sounds of the hospital buzzing around us, people talking in hushed tones, the beeping of machines, the scuffle of nurses’ shoes on tile. I couldn’t shake the fear, though. Even with the money, there was no guarantee. I knew that. But it was all I had left to offer.

As soon as the payment was made, I saw the nurses wheeling my mom out of her ward. The sight of her—so pale, so fragile—struck me like a blow to the chest. She looked nothing like the strong woman I had grown up with. Now, she was just a shell, hooked up to tubes and machines, her life dependent on doctors and miracles.

They were taking her to surgery. The word hung in the air like a death sentence. I wanted to go to her, to hold her hand, to tell her everything would be okay. But they moved too quickly, and before I could catch up, the doors to the operating room slammed shut, leaving me standing there, alone with my thoughts.

---

Hours passed. They felt like days.

I sat in the waiting room, my leg bouncing with nervous energy, my fingers tapping on the armrest. Around me, people were lost in their own worlds of worry—mothers clutched their children, a man stared blankly at the wall, an elderly couple whispered quietly to each other. And then there was me, stuck in this unbearable purgatory of not knowing.

I tried to distract myself, but nothing worked. Every time the door to the operating room opened, my heart jumped into my throat, only to crash back down when it wasn’t news about my mom.

At some point, I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, I was jolted awake by the sound of my phone buzzing in my pocket. I fumbled for it, my hands trembling as I saw the caller ID.

It was Natalie, my best friend since childhood.

“Hey babes,” I answered, my voice shaky.

“How’s your mom?” Natalie's voice was thin  with concern.

“They took her in for surgery,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “I don’t know anything about it yet but all I can do is pray and wait.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Natalie spoke again, softer this time. “I wish you all the best girl, your mom is going to be fine”. She said 

I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Yeah, I just hope so too. It’s just... it’s hard. I had to give up everything for this surgery. I don’t know what will happen next.”

Natalie didn’t say anything for a moment, but I could hear her breathing, like she was thinking of the right thing to say. Finally, she spoke, “You did what you had to do. Your mom’s gonna pull through,sometimes we don't have a choice than to do the worst things to save our loved ones that doesn't make you a bad person or an irresponsible girl.”

I wanted to believe her. God, I wanted to believe her so badly that I didn't turn to a whore.But a part of me couldn’t shake the nagging thought in the back of my mind—what if this wasn’t enough? What if nothing I did could save her?

“I hope so,” I whispered.

---

Meanwhile, somewhere across town, Robert was having troubles of his own. He sat up suddenly, his hand reaching instinctively toward the bed beside him, only to find it empty. Emma was gone. His heart raced as he blinked in confusion, trying to shake off the fog of sleep. The sheets were cool where she had been, and the soft hum of the city filtered in through the open window.

“Emma?” he called out, though he already knew she wasn’t there.

He stumbled out of bed, checking the bathroom, then the kitchen. Nothing. His mind raced with questions. Where had she gone? Why hadn’t she woken him up? And why did she leave without telling him?

Grabbing his phone from the nightstand, he quickly dialled her number, but the call didn’t go through. His brow furrowed in frustration. Had she given him the wrong number? No, that didn’t make sense. They had spent the night together, growing closer with other. She wouldn’t just vanish. Would she?

He sank back down onto the bed, running his hand through his hair. Something wasn’t right. Emma was a bit mysterious and anxious, sure, but this—this felt different. It felt... deliberate.

Robert stared at his phone, willing it to ring, but the silence in the room was deafening. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.