Episode 12; Beyond the Bloodline
Kemi’s POV
The drive back to the hospital was silent, but tension hung heavily between Jide and me. We had agreed to meet with Doctor Ann again, hoping to finally get answers. My stomach churned with anxiety as we parked and walked into the building. The sterile white walls, the soft hum of the air conditioning. Everything felt unsettlingly familiar yet cold.
Doctor Ann greeted us warmly in her office, her demeanor calm as she gestured for us to sit.
“Mr. and Mrs. Olajide, it’s good to see you again,” she said, smiling. “I was actually wondering why you hadn’t returned earlier. Usually, after a procedure like this, we expect the patient to come back within two weeks for a pregnancy confirmation test.”
Jide and I exchanged confused glances. “What procedure?” Jide asked sharply. “My wife came here for over two weeks now and was humiliated. The hospital staff claimed she had undergone the procedure when she hadn’t even been let in.”
Doctor Ann’s smile faltered, her brows furrowing. “I’m sorry, what? Mrs. Olajide, are you saying you didn’t undergo the embryo transfer procedure?”
I shook my head. “Doctor, I didn’t. I was stuck in traffic that morning and couldn’t make it to the hospital on time. By the time I arrived, the receptionist told me I had already been here earlier, which is impossible. I even asked for you, but I was told you had left for the day.”
Doctor Ann looked puzzled. “Mrs. Olajide, I stayed back late that morning specifically for you. I remember carrying out the procedure myself before I left for an event later that afternoon. Are you saying you weren’t here at all?”
“Doctor,” Jide interjected, his voice firm, “my wife is telling the truth. She never made it in that day. We don’t know who you carried out the procedure on, but it wasn’t her.”
Doctor Ann’s gaze shifted between the two of us, her expression a mix of concern and disbelief. “This doesn’t make sense,” she murmured. “I distinctly remember performing the procedure. The file brought to me had Mrs. Olajide’s name on it. Later, I noticed a discrepancy when a second file with a different name was attached. I assumed it was an administrative error and merged them.”
Jide leaned forward, his frustration mounting. “Doctor, are you saying you performed this life-changing procedure on someone else without verifying the patient’s identity?”
Doctor Ann stiffened. “Mr. Olajide, I followed all protocols. The file matched Mrs. Olajide’s details, and she even signed the necessary consent forms.”
I felt my heart drop. “Doctor, I didn’t sign anything. I wasn’t here. The person you saw wasn’t me.”
She paused, her face pale. “Then who was it?” she whispered, more to herself than to us.
“Exactly,” Jide snapped. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out. You claim you performed the procedure, but my wife says otherwise. Someone else must have impersonated her, and you let it happen.”
Doctor Ann took a deep breath. “Let’s settle this once and for all. Mrs. Olajide, will you agree to a pregnancy test? If the procedure was successful, the test will confirm it.”
Jide and I exchanged a look, and I nodded. “Fine,” I said. “Let’s do it. But when it comes out negative, I expect an explanation.”
The test didn’t take long, but the waiting felt like an eternity. Jide sat beside me, his foot tapping anxiously against the floor. When Doctor Ann returned, her face was unreadable as she held the results.
“It’s negative,” she said quietly, placing the paper on the desk. “There’s no pregnancy.”
I exhaled shakily, relief and anger flooding me at once. “Doctor, I told you. I never underwent the procedure.”
She frowned, leaning back in her chair. “This is… highly irregular. If the test is negative, then something must have gone wrong during the procedure—or…” Her voice trailed off, her expression darkening.
“Or what?” Jide pressed.
“Or someone else was involved,” she admitted. “The duplicate file I mentioned earlier—it may hold the key to understanding what happened.”
“Then pull it out,” Jide said firmly. “We need to see it.”
“I can’t show you another patient’s file,” she replied, shaking her head. “It’s against hospital policy.”
Jide stood abruptly, his anger barely contained. “Doctor, enough of this. My wife has already said she didn’t undergo the procedure, and the test has proven her right. Now, you’re telling me someone else may have been involved, but you refuse to disclose anything? We trusted this hospital, and you’ve failed us at every turn.”
“Mr. Olajide, please calm down,” Doctor Ann said, her tone measured. “We can resolve this. If you’d like, we can take new samples and repeat the procedure.”
“Repeat the procedure?” Jide repeated, incredulous. “After this fiasco? You think we’ll trust you again without any accountability for what happened? You’ve given us nothing but excuses and half-answers. We’re done here.”
He turned to me, his hand outstretched. “Kemi, let’s go.”
I hesitated for a moment, then stood, my resolve hardening. “Doctor, we’re not letting this go. If you won’t give us answers, we’ll find them ourselves—even if it means taking legal action.”
Doctor Ann sighed, her composure slipping. “I understand your frustration. I’ll escalate this matter internally and reach out to you once we have more information.”
Jide shook his head. “You’d better. Because the next call you get might not be from us. It’ll be from our lawyer.”
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