The doctors called it a miracle. Lara was being discharged. The typhoid fever that had nearly claimed her had retreated, leaving her weak but vibrantly alive. The hospital room, once a cage of fear, was now a place of bustling preparation.
Mina folded the last of Lara's clothes into a small bag, her movements light, almost giddy. The ordeal was over. They were going home. And waiting downstairs, as he had been for weeks, was Emmanuel with the car. And, she hoped, a text from Adams saying he'd meet them at her apartment to help them settle in.
Auntie Grace had already taken a taxi home, her skepticism temporarily muted by the undeniable fact of Lara's recovery. For the first time, Mina felt a surge of uncomplicated optimism.
The door to the room swung open. But it wasn't a nurse with discharge papers.
It was her mother.
Mama Chioma stood in the doorway, a solid, imposing figure in her traditional iro and buba, her headtie perfectly starched. Her face, usually a mask of weary resilience, was etched with deep lines of concern. She had taken the first available bus from the village the moment Auntie Grace's carefully worded phone call had reached her.
"Mama!" Lara exclaimed, a genuine smile spreading across her face.
Mina's smile was more hesitant. She saw the way her mother's sharp eyes scanned the room, taking inventory: the vibrant orchids on the windowsill, the expensive-looking fruit basket, the new, warm blanket draped over Lara's legs—another gift from Adams.
"My children," Mama Chioma said, her voice a low rumble. She moved to Lara first, cupping her face, her eyes glistening with relieved tears. "You gave us a fright." Then she turned to Mina. "You have lost weight."
"It's been a stressful time, Mama," Mina said, moving to hug her. Her mother's embrace was stiff, her attention already elsewhere.
"Whose car is that black one downstairs the driver says is for you?" Mama Chioma asked, her tone deceptively casual.
The moment Mina had dreaded had arrived. She took a breath. "It's… it's a friend's car, Mama. He's been kind enough to let us use it while Lara was sick."
"A friend," Mama repeated, the word hanging in the air. She picked up the worn copy of Things Fall Apart from the bedside table. "This friend gives you books, too? And flowers?" She gestured to the orchids. "These are not 'get well' flowers. These are 'I am watching you' flowers."
Lara shot Mina a warning look, but Mina felt a spark of defiance. She was tired of the sideways glances and the whispered assumptions.
"His name is Adams, Mama. He's the one who paid Lara's bill. He saved her life. He's a good man."
Mama Chioma's face tightened. She put the book down with a definitive thud. "A man who pays a bill for a woman he does not know is not just a 'good man,' Mina. He is a man with an agenda. What does he want?"
"He doesn't want anything!" Mina insisted, her voice rising. "He's kind. He's generous. He's a successful editor, he has his own life! He just saw people in need and he helped."
"People in need are everywhere!" her mother fired back, her own voice gaining volume. "Why you? Why did his help come with a driver and books and… and conversation?" She spat the last word out as if it were a dirty thing. "Auntie Grace says he visits you here, alone. Talking. What kind of man courts a woman at her sister's sickbed?"
The word "courts" hung in the air, ugly and exposed.
"He isn't courting me!" Mina lied, her cheeks flaming. "We talk. He's intelligent. He respects me."
"Respect?" Mama Chioma let out a short, harsh laugh. "A man who respects you talks to your family. He comes to your home with uncles and kolanuts. He does not sneak around a hospital like a thief in the night, planting ideas in your head with poetry books! This is not respect, Mina. This is shopping."
Mina felt the blow of the word deep in her gut. "Mama, that's not fair."
"Is it not?" Her mother stepped closer, her eyes boring into Mina's. "Love that comes from a hospital gate is built on pity and desperation. It is not real. It is a transaction. He paid for a service, and now he expects to collect. Is that what you want? To be a receipt? A line item in a rich man's account book?"
"You don't know him!" Mina's voice broke, tears of frustration welling in her eyes. "You reduce everything to money and markets! What if he sees more in me than that? What if he sees a mind, a person?"
"And what does Tunde see?" Mama Chioma's question was a swift, precise strike. "Tunde sees a wife. A mother to his children. A partner. He sees a future built on solid ground, not on a hospital charity foundation! His family has already spoken to us. It is settled."
"It is not settled for me!" Mina cried out. The rebellion was out in the open now. "Tunde is a good man, but he… he doesn't see me. He sees a good teacher, a good woman. He doesn't set my mind on fire. He doesn't make me feel…"
She trailed off, realizing her mistake too late.
Mama Chioma's face went very still. "Feel what, Mina?" she asked, her voice dangerously quiet. "What does this stranger make you feel? Important? Special? Is that it? He makes you feel like you are too good for the life you have? For the good, steady man who has waited for you?"
The seed of distrust, planted by Auntie Grace, was now being watered and nurtured by a mother's fear.
"No, Mama, that's not—"
"I will tell you what this is," Mama Chioma interrupted, her finger pointing accusingly at the orchids. "This is a fantasy. A beautiful, dangerous fantasy. And when he is tired of this game, when he finds a new woman from a new hospital gate to rescue, where will you be? You will be here, with your heart broken and your reputation in tatters, and Tunde will be gone. You will have nothing."
The stark, brutal picture her mother painted left Mina speechless. It was her deepest fear given voice.
Just then, Mina's phone buzzed on the bed. The screen lit up with a single word: Adams.
Mama Chioma's eyes flicked to the phone, then back to Mina's horrified face. Her expression was a mixture of triumph and profound disappointment.
"You see?" she whispered, the fight gone from her voice, replaced by a weary sadness that was far worse. "The bill collector is calling. Answer it. But remember my words, my daughter. A love that begins in tears will end in tears. It is not our destiny."
She turned her back and walked over to help Lara with her slippers, effectively ending the conversation.
Mina stared at the buzzing phone, Adams's name a beacon of light in the suddenly dark room. Her mother's words echoed in her head, a chilling counterpoint to the thrill she felt at his call.
She had defended him fiercely. But her mother's skepticism hadn't been planted. It had taken root. And as she reached for the phone, her hand trembling, Mina felt the first cold trickle of doubt seep into her own heart.
Was this a grand love story? Or was she just a transaction, a line item waiting to be collected?