Catty stepped out into the soft morning sun and spotted Kuku Veronica in the garden, watering the flowers, her gaze distant—lost somewhere deep in thought.
"Did Nate tell her? Did he finally mention our marriage?" Catty wondered. "Or is she just thinking about something else entirely?"
"Kuku," Catty called gently.
Kuku Veronica turned with a start, blinking back to the present.
"Let me help you," Catty offered, taking the watering can.
"How did you sleep, my dear?" Kuku Veronica asked, her voice kind but lined with fatigue.
"I slept very well, Kuku. And you?"
"I was worried about my son," she admitted, her eyes scanning the horizon as if Nathan might appear from it. "But this morning, he brought me coffee. I suppose that delighted me more than I expected."
Catty's heart thudded. "Really? Did he… say anything? Good news?"
"He mentioned he wants to talk to the whole family this evening." Kuku Veronica's voice was light, but the undercurrent of curiosity was unmistakable.
"Our wedding," Catty thought, excitement rising like a spark in dry grass.
Then Kuku's tone shifted. "I'm sorry, my dear."
Catty frowned. "Why are you apologizing, Kuku?"
"Yesterday… I implied that you and Nathan are in a relationship. That wasn't fair. If I offended you, I deeply regret it."
Catty smiled, guiding her to the garden bench. "Come on, Kuku. Sit down."
She lowered herself beside the older woman and took a breath. "You weren't completely wrong, Kuku. We do have a relationship—our friendship. It's not strange to mistake deep friendship for something more. When I was younger, I had a sister I loved dearly. She always said elders are never wrong, even when their words don't make sense at first."
"You had a sister?" Kuku Veronica asked softly. "What happened to her?"
Catty paused, the emotion catching her off guard. She quickly wiped her tears and forced a smile. "Nothing happened, Kuku. Just… forget I said anything."
"It's alright, my dear," Kuku replied with gentle understanding. "If you don't want to talk about it, I won't press."
After a moment of silence, Catty perked up.
"Kuku, can I make lunch for Nathan today?"
"He usually comes home for lunch," Kuku nodded.
"I know. I just want to surprise him with something I made."
A smile touched the corners of Kuku's mouth. "Of course."
"What's his favorite?" Catty asked.
"He has many," Kuku chuckled. "Just cook something tasty and from the heart."
Catty stood, determination in her eyes. "I'll make him a dish he'll never forget—something that becomes his new favorite. From today, he'll crave only it."
"Thank you, Kuku," she added warmly, then walked off, purpose in every step.
Meanwhile…
Vicky wandered the streets like a ghost. Her thoughts were scattered, her tears unchecked. She was halfway home when her phone rang. Wiping her face, she answered.
"Hello?"
"Miss Samuels?" the voice on the other end was urgent. "Your mother has gone into cardiac arrest. She's unresponsive to the medication. We believe she's had a stroke and an immediate heart attack. She's being prepped for emergency surgery."
The phone slipped from her fingers.
"Ma'am!" The voice on the other end was faint. "Please… make the payment as soon as possible so we can proceed!"
Vicky's knees buckled. A scream formed in her chest, but no sound came. She picked up the phone, hailed the nearest cab, and raced to the hospital.
When she arrived, Vicky sprinted to her mother's room—Room 4. Empty.
Panic clenched her throat.
"Magano Samuels. She was here—where is she?" she demanded.
A nurse turned toward her. "We moved a patient from Room 4 to the operating theatre. I believe it's her."
Vicky bolted down the hall, her heart slamming against her ribs. She reached the operating theatre doors just as the nurses intercepted her.
"No, ma'am. You can't go in. The doctors are doing everything they can—please, don't disturb them."
"She's my mother. Please tell me she's going to be alright!" Vicky cried.
"Just have faith," one nurse murmured. "She's strong. The doctors are trying their best."
Vicky's eyes searched the room through the glass. She could barely see her mother beneath the surgical sheets.
"But I didn't make the payment. How are they operating without it?"
"One of the cardiologists authorized a preliminary operation," the nurse said. "They needed to determine the cause of the attack."
Vicky's voice trembled. "I've been so careful. I made sure she was calm… I never told her about the money or the surgery cost. Her BP was stable. What happened?"
The doctor who had been overseeing her case appeared. "I checked her this morning—her vitals were normal. I left to get her medication. When I came back… she was on the floor, paralyzed."
"You told me strong emotions were the only trigger. How could this happen?" Vicky whispered, clutching her chest.
Before he could answer, the operating room door opened.
The lead surgeon stepped out, his mask pulled down, his eyes solemn.
"Doctor?" Vicky asked, her voice brittle, her soul straining for hope. "Is my mom… is she responding now?"
The silence that followed was worse than any scream. His expression said everything.
Vicky's knees gave way as the world collapsed around her.