Episode 15: Beyond the Bloodline
Kemi’s POV
We visited the hospital. The tension in the hospital room was unbearable. The patient relations officer stood before Jide and me, looking utterly perplexed. Her questions, insinuations, and accusations were like a dagger to the trust Jide and I had fought to rebuild.
“Good day, Miss Ngozi,” the officer greeted again, her tone cautious but firm. “I thought I told you we’d call you back. Meanwhile, this is the man I told you I’ve always seen you with, but you claimed you hadn’t been here with a man.”
I frowned, confused and defensive. “Miss Ngozi? Sorry, ma’am, are you talking to us?”
“Yes, ma’am,” she replied. “You were here yesterday with your friends.”
I froze, my heart pounding. “No, ma’am. I wasn’t here yesterday,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’ve only ever been here alone or with my husband. I don’t even keep friends.
The woman’s face contorted in confusion. “That’s strange,” she murmured, stepping away momentarily, leaving Jide and me in an uncomfortable silence.
Jide looked at me, his expression guarded. “Kemi, what’s going on? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Nothing, Jide. I don’t know what she’s talking about. I was at home yesterday—this has to be a mistake,” I said quickly, my voice trembling.
Minutes later, the woman returned, her expression unchanged. “Miss Ngozi, do you mind if we talk privately?”
“No,” Jide interjected sharply, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “You’ll say whatever you have to say in my presence. I’m her husband, and I deserve to know what’s happening.”
“Alright, if you insist,” the woman said, adjusting her glasses. “Mrs. Olajide, I need you to be honest. Is there something you’re hiding from your husband? Yesterday, you were here with your friends, and you explicitly denied being married. You even claimed to have only visited us twice. Is there something you’re not telling us?”
Jide’s face darkened. “Kemi, you were here yesterday and denied being married? Why? What’s your aim? Do I even know who you are anymore?”
“Jide, calm down,” I pleaded, my voice breaking. “I swear to you, I don’t know what she’s talking about. I was at home the entire day after you left for work. Please, believe me.”
The officer raised a hand. “If you don’t mind, ma’am, I’ll confirm this now. You wrote down your contact number yesterday. Let me call it to verify.”
She quickly dialed the number from the file, and the seconds stretched into an eternity as we waited. My heart raced as Jide glared at me, his frustration evident.
Finally, the phone rang, but no one answered. Jide exhaled sharply, a glimmer of relief in his eyes.
“Well,” I began hesitantly, “it’s clearly not my number. There’s been some kind of mix-up.”
But just as I was beginning to relax, the phone rang again, and this time, someone picked up.
“Hello?” a weak, strained voice answered on the other end.
—
Ngozi’s POV
The morning had started like every other—heavy, with a mix of confusion and exhaustion. I hadn’t eaten properly in days, my body weak, and my spirit even weaker. Life had lost its flavor, and the constant wagging tongues and isolation were too much to bear.
I found solace in my secret hideaway—a quiet bush where the sound of chirping birds and crickets felt like the only friends I had left. As I sat there contemplating my life’s misery, my phone rang. I ignored it, unwilling to let anyone disrupt my solitude.
Moments later, a text buzzed in. It was Amaka.
“Ngozi, I’m sorry for how I treated you yesterday. Chioma and I want to come see you. Please let us make things right.”
I tossed the phone aside. Fake friends, I thought bitterly. I wasn’t interested in their apologies or their company.
The phone rang again. Persistent. Disturbing. Annoying. Finally, I reached for it, intending to silence it, but my hand froze when I saw the number. It was a landline. Amaka wouldn’t use a landline.
Curiosity got the better of me. “Hello?” I answered hesitantly.
“Good day, Miss Ngozi,” a woman’s voice said on the other end. “This is St. Mark’s Hospital. We need you to come in immediately. It’s urgent.”
My heart sank. St. Mark’s Hospital again. The source of all my pain and humiliation. A wave of dread washed over me. What now?
I felt reluctant initially because I wasn’t ready for another drama. However, I gathered courage to go but
I had just a little money left. I was ashamed to borrow again. Reluctantly, I went to my neighbor, who had already helped me a few times. She gave me a long look before sighing.
“You’ve been borrowing too much lately,” she said bluntly. “When are you going to pay me back?”
“I’m expecting money from a job I did last week,” I said pleadingly. “As soon as I get paid, I’ll settle everything.”
She hesitated but handed me half of what I asked for. “This is all I can spare,” she said, her tone laced with irritation.
“Thank you,” I said, forcing a grateful smile. At least I could cover part of the journey.
I boarded a keke halfway to the hospital, carefully calculating how far my money could take me. When the ride ended, I began walking the rest of the way. The sun blazed overhead, and my body protested with every step. My legs felt like lead, and my empty stomach churned.
Finally, I reached a shaded spot under a tree and decided to rest. My vision blurred, and I felt my strength drain away. Suddenly, the world around me faded.
In my unconscious state, I found myself in a strange dream—or was it a trance? I saw two versions of myself. One held a baby lovingly in her arms, while the other knelt before her, tears streaming down her face.
“Please,” the kneeling version begged. “Give me the child. It’s mine.”
The other version of me shook her head, her expression cold and distant. “No. You don’t deserve this child. After all I have been through.”
The scene repeated, their voices growing louder and more desperate until it became unbearable.
The scene played on a loop until I felt a cold cloth dab at my forehead, jolting me awake.
When I opened my eyes, the fluorescent lights of the hospital greeted me. My head throbbed as I tried to sit up, but the nurse gently pushed me back down.
“She’s awake,” I heard someone say.
I turned my head slowly, and my breath hitched. Standing at the foot of my bed was her.
The other me!
Her face was identical to mine, yet her presence was alien, unfamiliar.
Panic rose in my chest. “God, am I alive? Is this a dream?” I whispered. I have finally seen my ‘Chi’ with my two eyes. That means one thing. I’m no longer alive! Cold shivers ran down my spine.
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