Papa James nodded, disappointed but understanding. “Okay. But come early tomorrow. I feel safe when you are here.”
“I promise,” Angela said.
Then came the night her mother collapsed.
Breathing fast. Skin cold. Eyes rolling with fear.
Angela rushed her to the hospital, praying like prayer was the only currency she had left.
After tests, the doctor pulled her aside.
“Angela,” he said gently, “your mother needs urgent surgery. Without it, she may not survive the next week.”
Angela’s hands shook. “How much?”
“Five million naira,” the doctor replied. “We need to start preparations immediately.”
Angela’s world tilted.
“Doctor… I don’t have it,” she whispered. “I don’t have anything.”
The doctor’s eyes softened. “Try. Time is short.”
Angela sat on a hospital bench, head in her hands, tears falling onto the cold floor.
“God,” she cried quietly, “please help me. Please.”
When she returned to work later, her eyes were swollen with pain.
Mabel noticed immediately, and instead of mercy, she offered cruelty like it was entertainment.
“So you’re just coming now?” Mabel snapped. “Is this the time you’re supposed to resume?”
“My mother is very sick,” Angela said, voice controlled. “I took her to the hospital.”
Mabel scoffed. “And is that my business? Your mother can go and join your poor family in the ground for all I care.”
Angela flinched, but stayed silent.
She needed this job.
She went to Papa James’s room and fed him, trying to hold herself together.
Then she left again, rushing back to the hospital with dread biting her stomach.
At the reception, the doctor met her with surprise and excitement.
