Patrick woke up, the wall clock ticking faintly into the stillness of the night. It was a few minutes before 11 p.m. The room was dark except for the soft glow of the streetlight peeking through his curtain. He sat up, blinking groggily and unsure of what had stirred him. Something didn't feel right. The house was too quiet—eerily quiet for a family of five.
He rubbed his eyes and stepped out of bed, scratching his head. First stop: Patience's room.
"Patty?" he called out, knocking once before stepping inside.
Empty.
The blanket was neatly folded, the bed undisturbed. She hadn't slept here?
"Maybe she's in the kitchen," he murmured to himself. But she doesn't like to eat after 9pm, maybe she's making preparations for easy breakfast and again she wasn't in the living room neither in the kitchen.
Next, he tiptoed to their parents' room.
Also empty.
That's when the fear crept in.
Patrick froze at the doorway. "Wait—where is everyone?"
He darted back to the living room. No signs of breakfast. No slippers by the door. The house wasn't just quiet—it was deserted.
"Okay…" Patrick said aloud, trying to stay calm. "Maybe they stepped out."
But the longer he stood there, the more his imagination ran wild.
"What if… rapture came?" he whispered, eyes wide with horror.
He remembered the last Sunday school class where Sister Blessing said, "When rapture happens, people will just disappear. No goodbye. No noise. No warning."
Panic gripped him.
"Oh no!" he dropped to his knees. "God, please! I'm sorry for hiding that meat pie under the bed… And for calling Chris 'broccoli head' behind his back. And for watching that cartoon when Mummy said it was demonic!"
His voice trembled. "Jesus, please come again, come back and carry me too. I promise I'll never skip devotion again."
Before he could start reciting the Psalm 91, a phone beeped nearby.
He paused. "Huh?"
He followed the sound.
Lying on the floor in the hallway was Patience's phone.
Patrick bent to pick it up. "Why is her phone on the floor?" he whispered, brows furrowed. "She never leaves it behind. Even when she's brushing her teeth."Maybe rapture really took place
He unlocked it—no password—and saw several missed calls, most from her friend Grace and one from an unknown line.
Worry deepened into fear.
Quickly, he scrolled and called Daddy.
In the hospital, Mr. Adeyemi was leaning against the wall of the waiting area, arms crossed and foot tapping again.
His phone buzzed.
He looked down at the caller ID and blinked.
"Patience's phone?" he muttered, then his lips lifted slightly. "Patrick."
He answered, "Hello, Patrick."
"Daddy!" Patrick's voice was fast and anxious. "Where is everybody? I woke up and the house was empty. No one told me anything. I thought rapture happened and I was left behind!"
Mr. Adeyemi let out a long sigh, half exasperated, half amused. "Rapture didn't happen, son. Your sister fainted last night. We had to rush her to the hospital."
"What?!" Patrick gasped. "Is she okay?"
"She's stable now. She just needs rest. Your mother stayed behind with her. I'll come home soon."
He hung up, then turned to his wife, who was now sitting by Patience's bedside again.
"That was Patrick," he said. "He woke up confused. Called from Patience's phone."
"Oh, poor boy," Mrs. Adeyemi murmured. "We didn't even leave a note."
"I'll head home now. He's all alone there." He stood, then paused. "Please check on Peace once in a while too. She's also in this hospital, remember?"
His tone was firm, almost reproachful.
Mrs. Adeyemi nodded slowly. "I haven't forgotten."
As he left, she sat back, weary and torn between two daughters and a growing ache in her soul. She stared at the empty hallway for a long moment before whispering, "What was wrong with celebrating their 10th birthday? Why did a simple party unleash so much trouble?"
She lifted her hands to the ceiling and prayed out loud. "Lord, please. Heal my daughters. Give them peace—both of them. Enough of the storm. Just… peace."
Then she stood.
"I'll talk to the doctor about moving them into the same ward. Maybe if they're close to each other, it'll help," she reasoned aloud. "And they both need me."
She made her way toward the nurses' station.
Inside the ward, Patience lay with her back on the bed, still pretending to sleep. But the dam inside her had finally cracked.
Silent sobs shook her body as tears slipped freely down her cheeks—tears that had lingered all day, waiting for permission to fall.
Her heart felt split in two. Part of her wanted to believe she still belonged in this family. The other part feared she had always been an outsider in disguise.
The truth was no longer hiding.
And neither were her tears.