The envelope felt like a live wire in Mina's hands, humming with potential and terrifying possibility. She stared at the closed hospital doors through which the stranger—Adams—had disappeared. The weight of the crisp naira notes inside was a tangible, shocking contrast to the crushing weight of debt that had been there just minutes before.
Is this real? her mind screamed, a frantic, hopeful counterpoint to the grief that had taken root in her soul. Or am I dreaming, desperate from exhaustion?
Her fingers, still trembling, traced the sharp edges of the bills through the paper. It was more cash than she'd seen in a year. Tucked beside it was a simple receipt for the full payment of Lara's hospital bill, stamped PAID IN FULL in bold, red letters that made her vision blur.
A fresh tear escaped, but this one was different. It was hot with disbelief, with a gratitude so vast it threatened to drown her all over again.
"Miss? Miss Mina?"
She jumped, clutching the envelope to her chest like a thief. A young nurse stood there, her expression kind. "The doctor is with your sister now. Her fever has broken. She's stable. She's asking for you."
The words hit Mina like a physical wave, washing away the last remnants of her composure. The bill was paid. Lara was stable. The two impossible mountains she had been facing mere minutes ago had simply… vanished. Because of him.
She couldn't process it. It was too much. A sob of pure, unadulterated relief burst from her lips, and she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to stifle it. The nurse placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
"It's okay. It's going to be okay now."
Is it? Mina thought, her eyes darting back to the hospital doors. What is the price for a miracle?
She allowed herself to be led inside, the sterile air now smelling not just of despair, but of reprieve. She followed the nurse to Lara's room, her legs weak. Pushing the door open, she saw her sister, pale and frail against the white sheets, but alive. Her eyes were open.
"Lara," Mina breathed, rushing to the bedside and grabbing her sister's limp hand. It was still too warm, but the terrifying, burning heat was gone.
"Mina," Lara whispered, her voice a dry rasp. "You look… terrible."
A wet laugh escaped Mina. "You're one to talk." She squeezed her hand tighter. "The fever… the doctor said…"
"I heard." Lara's eyes, glassy with fatigue, focused on her. "How? The bill… we…"
Mina's grip on the envelope tightened. How could she explain something she didn't understand herself? "A man," she started, the words feeling inadequate. "He… he helped us."
Lara's brow furrowed. "A man? What man? Uncle Tunde? Did he finally—"
"No. Not Uncle Tunde." Mina looked away, toward the window where the frangipani tree bloomed obliviously. "A stranger. His name is Adams. He was here visiting a doctor. He saw me crying and he… he just paid it, Lara. All of it."
The silence that followed was thick and heavy. Mina watched the emotions play out on her sister's weakened face: confusion, disbelief, then a slow-dawning, deep-seated wariness.
"A stranger," Lara repeated, the words flat. "He paid a fortune for a woman he doesn't know? Mina, why?" Her voice gained a sliver of strength, edged with protective fear. "Men like that… they don't do anything for free. What did he want? What did you promise him?"
The same chilling question that had whispered in Mina's heart now had a voice. It made the envelope in her hand feel heavier, the money inside suddenly ominous.
"Nothing! I promised him nothing!" Mina insisted, her own fear spiking. "He just… he said he wanted to help. He was kind."
"Too kind," Lara countered, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment as a wave of exhaustion hit her. When she opened them, the worry was still there. "Be careful, sister. Please. The world isn't this kind."
Before Mina could reply, a soft knock sounded on the doorframe.
Both sisters turned. Adams stood there, having changed from his suit jacket into a crisply tailored linen shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked both powerful and approachable, a dangerous combination. He held two paper cups of steaming tea.
"I hope I'm not intruding," he said, his voice that same calm, melodic baritone that had soothed her outside. His gaze went to Lara. "You must be the formidable Lara. I'm Adams. Your sister has been incredibly brave."
Lara's eyes narrowed slightly, assessing him. Mina felt a flush of embarrassment at her own tear-streaked face and worn clothes under his composed gaze.
"We owe you a debt we can never repay," Lara said, her voice cautious, formal. It was the voice she used with pushy market traders and nosy landlords.
Adams shook his head, entering the room and offering one cup to Mina. The simple, domestic gesture felt intensely intimate. "There is no debt," he said firmly, his eyes locking with Mina's for a heartbeat before turning back to Lara. "Seeing a problem I have the means to fix and doing nothing? That would be the real debt. To my own conscience."
He leaned casually against the wall, sipping his tea. "How are you feeling?"
It was a masterclass in disarming charm. He addressed Lara directly, showing his concern was for her, not just an avenue to her sister. He spoke of conscience, not charity. Mina could see Lara's defensive posture soften a fraction, even if her eyes remained wary.
"Tired," Lara admitted. "But grateful. Thank you."
"Good," Adams smiled. "Focus on getting better. That's the only job you have right now." He turned his attention to Mina. "And you. Have you eaten today?"
Mina blinked, thrown by the question. The thought of food had been absurd an hour ago. "I… no. Not really."
"I didn't think so." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple business card. It was heavy, expensive cardstock. Adams Dared, Managing Editor, it read, followed by the name of a prestigious business magazine and his contact details. "My driver is outside. He'll take you wherever you need to go—home, to get food, anywhere. He'll wait for you and bring you back. For as long as you need."
Mina stared at the card, then back at his face. A driver? It was a level of luxury so far removed from her reality it felt like he was speaking another language.
"I can't… we can't accept more," she stammered, the envelope of cash feeling like it was burning a hole through her palm.
"You can," he said gently, but with a finality that brooked no argument. He placed the card on the bedside table. "It's already arranged. Consider it part of the prescription. A caregiver needs to care for herself too."
He pushed off from the wall. "I have to get to a meeting I'm already late for. Lara, it was a pleasure to meet you. Mina." He nodded to her, a look in his eyes that was too complex to decipher—compassion, curiosity, something else she was afraid to name. "Use the car."
And with that, he was gone, leaving behind the scent of his subtle cologne and a silence louder than any noise.
The two sisters looked at each other, the unspoken questions hanging heavily in the air between them.
Lara was the first to break the silence, her voice a weak whisper filled with a dawning dread. "Mina," she said, her eyes wide with a fear that had nothing to do with typhoid. "What have you gotten yourself into?"
Mina looked from her sister's fearful face to the business card on the table. Adams Dared. The name seemed to pulse with promise and peril. She had asked for a miracle. She had gotten one.
But as she clutched the money he'd given her, she felt the truth of her sister's warning in her bones. In a world where nothing was free, a miracle from a stranger… it couldn't possibly be a gift.
It had to be a deal. And she was terrified to find out what the terms were.