The antiseptic scent of the hospital corridor was a familiar assault, a smell that had come to represent both hope and despair in Frank's life. For seven long years, these halls had been a second home, a place of whispered consultations, sterile waiting rooms, and crushing disappointments. But today, the air felt different, charged with a terrifying, electric potential. He had been waiting outside the delivery ward for what felt like an eternity, each second stretching into a minor agony of its own.
"Can I see my wife, please?" Mr. Frank asked, the words torn from a place of raw, grinding despair. His voice was hoarse, stripped of its usual strength by hours of anxious silence.
A nurse emerged, her face a professional mask that broke into a warm, knowing smile. She placed a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder, guiding him away from the double doors. "Just a moment, Mr. Frank. The doctors are just finishing up."
He allowed himself to be led, his body moving on autopilot while his mind remained trapped behind those doors. The uncertainty was a physical weight on his chest, making it hard to breathe. He had braced himself for so much bad news over the years that he no longer knew how to hope for the good. He couldn't hold his peace; the question burst from him again, this time with a forced confidence that belied his trembling hands.
"How is my wife? Is she… is everything clinically good?"
The nurse's smile widened, reaching her eyes. "You can stop worrying now. It's a baby boy. A beautiful, healthy baby boy. And your wife is tired, but she is clinically very good. They both are."
The words did not compute immediately. They hung in the air between them, too monumental to absorb. A boy. Healthy. Clinically good. Then, like the first crack of dawn after a relentless night, the meaning flooded him. A sound escaped his lips,a half-sob, half-shout of pure, unadulterated relief. He raised his hands to his face, his shoulders shaking as seven years of pent-up anguish, prayer, and shattered dreams finally found their release.
"Finally," he whispered into his palms, his voice thick with emotion. "After seven good years… God has decided to bless me with a forerunner." The testimony was heartfelt, a raw confession of a long-held dream finally realized. The nurse, who had seen countless new fathers, felt a familiar pang of sympathy mixed with joy. She had heard snippets of their struggle; now, witnessing his vulnerability, she felt truly sorry for the hardship they had endured to reach this moment.
When he was finally allowed into the ward, the world narrowed to the sight of his wife, Glory, lying pale but radiant against the white pillows, and the tiny, swaddled form nestled in the crook of her arm. The air hummed with a profound, quiet peace. He moved to her side, his fingers gently brushing a damp strand of hair from her forehead before his gaze fell upon his son. The baby's face was a miniature miracle, a perfect blend of them both, with a faint dusting of hair and eyes squeezed shut against the newness of the world.
Under the influence of this uncontrollable, dizzying joy, a name surfaced from the deepest well of his hope. "John," he called out, his voice firm with a conviction he hadn't felt in years. "His name will be John. For God has been gracious. He has given us a forerunner to show us the way forward." Glory smiled weakly, nodding her agreement, her own eyes glistening with tears of happiness.
Yet, hovering at the edges of this perfect picture, unspoken but palpably present, was the reality of their situation. The hospital bills weren't sorted. The joy was real, but it was housed in a vessel of profound anxiety. Life had been unbearably uneasy on Frank. The quest for a child of their own had been a financial black hole, countless procedures, consultations with specialists who offered hope at a premium, and costly treatments that ultimately led nowhere. They had been duped by more than one charlatan promising miracles for a fee. His new job, a humble clerical position he'd taken for its stability, was secure but paid a pittance. Every spare penny for years had been funneled into this single, all-consuming goal. Now, standing at the summit of his emotional mountain, he faced a sheer financial cliff.
"I need to see the doctor," he said to Glory, his voice regaining a semblance of its practical tone. He kissed her forehead and then his son's, before stepping out into the hallway.
He was directed to an office on the third floor. The environment here was different, colder, more administrative. On reaching there, the doctor, a stern-faced man with a receding hairline and wire-rimmed glasses, was waiting. He offered a brief, perfunctory smile that didn't reach his eyes. On his desk lay two documents: a pre-printed congratulatory card and a detailed, itemized bill. The contrast was jarring. Without preamble, the bill was slid across the polished wood towards Frank.
Frank's heart plummeted as his eyes scanned the bottom figure. It was a number that represented months of his salary, a number that might as well have been a million. "Doctor, please," he began, his voice laced with a desperate plea. "We… We've spent everything just to get here. Is there any arrangement we can make? A payment plan? Anything?"
The doctor's expression remained impassive, a man who had delivered this speech too many times. "Hospital policy is very strict, Mr. Frank. Full payment is required upon discharge." He paused, steepling his fingers. "However, given your… circumstances… there is another option. We have an arrangement with a reputable orphanage home. Should you find yourself unable to settle the debt, the institution is prepared to assume full responsibility for the child. In such a case, your bills would be forfeited, and your wife would be discharged without further obligation."
The words landed like physical blows. Frank felt the blood drain from his face, replaced by a cold, rising fury. Give up John? The very child they had wept and prayed for? The forerunner? He stood perfectly still, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the desk. He gazed at the doctor with an aggression that made the older man shift uncomfortably in his leather chair.
"You listen to me," Frank said, his voice a low, dangerous growl, each word dripping with icy contempt. "Do not ever* ever* suggest that I would have anything to do with such a plan. That is my son. That is my family. You will not lay a finger on them. I will be back in two days' time. With my money. Complete."
He turned on his heel and left the office, the slammed door echoing his finality.
Frank left the hospital not elated, but swallowed by a profound sadness and disappointment so deep it was a physical ache. He walked along the bustling street, a ghost among the living, the doctor's vile proposition playing on a loop in his mind. This exacerbation of his struggle, this cruel twist to his joy, felt like a final, mocking joke from fate. He swore to himself, a sacred oath muttered under his breath, that he would never give such a monstrous plan a single moment of rethink.
When Frank reached his small, sparsely furnished lodge, sleep was an impossibility. The four walls seemed to press in on him. He kept envisaging the image of his baby, John's tiny, sleeping face, and Glory's exhausted smile. He became so restless that he pulled the door open and stumbled outside into the cool night air. Gazing up at the vast, indifferent sky, he felt a confusing touch of joy for the life he had created and a crushing sadness for his inability to simply bring him home. He sat on the front step all night, a solitary figure wrestling with an impossible equation, thinking until his head throbbed, but he came up with nothing meaningful.
When he finally checked his phone, the pale blue light illuminated the time: 4:17 AM. Desperation clawed at him. He scrolled through his contacts and called Michael, his closest colleague and friend. The phone rang and rang before going to voicemail. He tried again, and this time, a sleepy, irritated voice answered.
"Frank? Do you know what time it is?"
"Mike, I'm sorry, it's an emergency. I need… I need to borrow"
"Frank, mate, I'd love to help, but things are really tight right now. The kids' school fees… you know how it is. I can't."
The line went dead. At this point, standing alone in the dark, the silence felt absolute. A wave of utter hopelessness washed over him, so powerful he felt like ending everything. The pressure was too immense. But then, as if summoned by his despair, the memory of his son's face flashed behind his eyes, the perfect little nose, the tiny fists. It was a spark in the darkness. He came alive again, fueled by a fragile but stubborn hope. He was a father now. Giving up was no longer an option.
When day broke, Frank couldn't wait to do anything. He didn't bother to change or eat. He rushed back to the hospital, drawn by a magnetic need just to have a look at his son and wife, to reaffirm the reality of them. When he reached, he was allowed to see them as usual. He held John, feeling the baby's warm, light weight against his chest, a weight that felt like the entire world. He kissed Glory, assuring her everything was fine. But he couldn't take them home. The unspoken truth hung heavily in the room.
Leaving them that afternoon was the hardest thing he had ever done. But it crystallized his resolve. He had no option left. He drove away from the hospital not towards home, but to a used car lot on the outskirts of town. There, he sold his third-class, rust-speckled sedan, the vehicle he had used to convey himself and Glory to church every Sunday, the car that had carried them to every doctor's appointment filled with hope. It was their only asset of any value. He haggled with a ruthless dealer and finally, painfully, accepted a sum that was, to the penny, the cost of the hospital bill.
The following day, he returned to the hospital. This time, his footsteps did not echo with despair but with a hard-won resolve. He marched into the doctor's office, his posture rigid. Without a word, he dropped the thick envelope of cash onto the desk. The token of his sacrifice.
"I believe that settles our account," Frank said, his voice cold and steady. "Now, I want my family discharged. Immediately."
Seeing the fierce, unyielding rage in Frank's eyes, the doctor couldn't hesitate. He rang for a nurse and arranged for it at once.
Soon, the little family was united in the hospital parking lot, not beside a car, but ready to call a taxi. They arrived home to a spontaneous celebration. Neighbors and a few friends poured out of their houses to say hello to the baby John, to admire him, and to learn his name. Their small compound was filled with laughter and well-wishing, a brief, beautiful oasis of joy.
After a few hours, as the well-wishers trickled away and the sun began to set, Glory called out to Frank from the doorway. Her brow was furrowed in gentle confusion.
"Frank, when we arrived, I didn't see the car in the compound. Did you park it somewhere else?"
Frank took a deep breath, the euphoria of the day cooling rapidly. He had to disclose everything to her. He led her to their small sitting room and told her about the sale, about the doctor's ultimatum, and about the price of their freedom.
Glory, who had been happy and sound, felt her mood turn down instantly, her radiant smile dissolving into a mask of stunned disappointment. She had already envisioned it, the family, whole and happy, being conveyed in their own familiar vehicle to church on Sunday for the baby's christening. It was to be their first journey together as a family, a triumphant procession. Now, that image was shattered. The reality of their immense sacrifice settled over her, and for the first time since John's birth, she began to cry silent tears. The joyous world they had just built seemed to tremble on its foundations, and things once again felt profoundly apart.