He had no money, no phone, no support—just a dying pregnant woman in his arms and a crowd behind him still murmuring and laughing like it was a show.
Jerry’s eyes filled with angry tears. He looked down at Elelliana’s face. Her lips were slightly open. Her breathing was weak, like a candle fighting wind.
“Hold on,” Jerry whispered fiercely. “Hold on, I beg you.”
The nearest hospital was not far, but with someone in his arms, it felt like a whole journey across Lagos.
He ran.
His slippers slapped the ground. His muscles screamed. At one point, his knees almost buckled. He nearly fell, but he adjusted his grip and forced himself forward again.
Sweat dripped down his face into his beard. Cars flew past. The air smelled like exhaust and hot tar.
And all he could think was, If she dies in my arms, I will never forgive myself.
Finally, he saw the sign.
Lagos Medical Center.
Jerry’s heart jumped with hope. He pushed harder, almost stumbling into the emergency entrance.
“Help!” he yelled, voice cracking. “Help! She is in labor. She fainted!”
Two nurses rushed out immediately. One of them—a dark-skinned nurse with a tight bun and sharp eyes—looked at Elelliana’s face and shouted, “Stretcher, now!”
A stretcher rolled out.
Jerry lowered Elelliana carefully, hands shaking.
The nurses lifted her onto it and started pushing her inside. Jerry followed, panting, eyes wide.
“Sir, are you her husband?” another nurse asked quickly.
Jerry froze. His mouth opened. He couldn’t lie.
“No,” he said. “I… I don’t even know her name. She fell outside the supermarket. People refused to help.”
The nurse didn’t pause. “Okay. Come. We need someone to answer questions.”
Jerry followed as they rushed Elelliana through the hallway.
Doctors came out. A young doctor pressed fingers against Elelliana’s wrist. Another checked her belly and frowned.
“She’s losing consciousness,” one doctor said.
