Time ceased to have meaning. It was measured in heartbeats, in the rhythmic swish of the automatic doors, in the slow, tortuous crawl of the second hand on the clock above the nurse's station. Mina stood rooted to the spot, a statue of dread in the chaotic river of the ER.
Femi hovered nearby, wringing a wet cap in his hands, a portrait of guilt and fear. "The rain, madam… it came so fast. The tanker… it just slid… there was nowhere for oga to go…"
Mina didn't respond. She couldn't. Her entire being was focused on those double doors, willing them to open, praying for a doctor with good news.
The doors swung open. A nurse emerged, her scrubs spattered with something dark. Mina's heart leapt into her throat. But the nurse walked right past her, called to another crisis.
This happened again. And again. Each time the doors opened, a jolt of electric fear shot through her. Each time it wasn't for her, the crushing disappointment was a physical weight.
"Mina!"
The voice was a lifeline. She turned to see Lara sprinting through the entrance, her hair plastered to her face by the rain, her eyes wide with panic. She grabbed Mina, pulling her into a fierce hug.
"I came as fast as I could. Any news? Where is he?"
Mina just shook her head against her sister's shoulder, unable to form words. The dam broke then, and great, heaving sobs wracked her body. Lara held her tighter, her own tears falling into Mina's hair.
"He has to be okay," Lara whispered, a mantra. "He's too stubborn not to be."
They stood like that for what felt like an eternity, two sisters clinging to each other in the eye of the storm. Finally, Lara guided a trembling Mina to a row of hard plastic chairs. Femi silently brought them cups of watery, tasteless tea they neither wanted nor drank.
An hour bled into two. The frantic energy of the ER began to dull into a weary, late-night hum. The fear curdled into a cold, hard knot of terror in Mina's stomach. No news was not good news. Not after this long.
Finally, the doors opened again. This time, the man who walked out was different. He was older, his scrubs were clean, and his face was etched with a professional, grave exhaustion. His eyes scanned the waiting room and landed on them—the two women huddled together, one barefoot and shivering.
He walked toward them, his steps slow, deliberate.
Mona shot to her feet, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. Lara stood beside her, a solid pillar of support.
"Mrs. Dared?" the doctor asked, his voice low and calm.
"Yes. That's me. How is my husband? Is he…?" She couldn't say the word.
"My name is Dr. Adeyemi. I've been overseeing your husband's care." He gestured to the chairs. "Please, sit down."
"I don't want to sit down," Mina said, her voice trembling but clear. "Just tell me. Please."
The doctor nodded, respecting her request. "Your husband is alive."
The relief was so potent it made her dizzy. Lara gasped, squeezing her hand. "Oh, thank God…"
Dr. Adeyemi held up a hand, his expression still grim. "But he is critically injured. The impact was severe. He has significant trauma."
He began listing the injuries, each one a hammer blow. Mina's mind struggled to keep up, latching onto the clinical, terrifying words.
"…multiple rib fractures… punctured lung… that we've managed to stabilize…" "…significant concussion,loss of consciousness…" "…the biggest concern is his right leg.The crush injuries are extensive. There was severe damage to the femoral artery. We've done emergency surgery to repair it and to try and stabilize the bone, but…" He paused, choosing his words with care. "The road ahead is very long. There is a very real risk of compartment syndrome, infection… and we may still be looking at further surgical intervention, including possible amputation if the blood flow doesn't improve significantly."
Amputation.
The word echoed in the silent, sterile hallway, ugly and final. Mina's knees buckled. Lara caught her, lowering her gently into the chair.
"No," Mina whispered, staring at the doctor in horror. "No, you can't… he's… he's…"
He's a man who strides through boardrooms. He's a man who kneels to play with his daughter on the floor. He can't lose a leg.
"We are doing everything we can to save the limb, Mrs. Dared. The next 48 hours are critical. He's being moved to the ICU now. He's sedated and on a ventilator to help him breathe."
"Can I see him?" The question was a desperate plea.
"For a few minutes. Only family. He won't be able to respond."
Dr. Adeyemi led them through the maze of corridors to the Intensive Care Unit. The air here was different—colder, quieter, filled with the beeps and whirrs of machines doing the work of living.
He stopped before a glass-walled room. And there he was.
Adams lay in the bed, surrounded by a jungle of tubes and wires and blinking monitors. A large ventilator tube was taped to his mouth, its rhythmic hiss and click the loudest sound in the room. His face was pale and swollen, a stark white bandage wrapped around his head. One side of his body was encased in a monstrous cage of metal and pins holding his leg together. He was unrecognizable. A broken doll version of the powerful man she'd kissed goodbye that morning.
Mina pressed her hand to her mouth, a strangled cry escaping her. Lara wrapped an arm around her waist, holding her up.
"I'll give you a moment," Dr. Adeyemi said softly before stepping away.
Mina pushed the door open and walked slowly to the bedside. Her hand trembled as she reached out, avoiding the wires, and gently laid her fingers on his arm. His skin was cool.
"Adams," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I'm here. I'm right here. You have to fight. Do you hear me? You have to fight."
There was no response. Only the mechanical hiss of the ventilator.
"Trisha needs you," she pleaded, tears streaming down her face. "I need you. So you have to come back to us. You have to."
She stood there, holding his limp hand, pouring every ounce of her love, her fear, her will into that touch, begging him to feel it, to come back from the edge.
After a few minutes, a nurse gently touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry, ma'am. You need to let him rest now."
Mina allowed herself to be led out. In the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway, she turned to Lara, the full weight of the future crashing down on her.
"His job…" Mina said, the reality dawning with horrifying clarity. "The magazine… he can't… they won't hold it for him. Not for this." She looked at her sister, her eyes wide with a new, different terror. "Lara… what are we going to do?"