~*~
We cross paths with those
whom we are destined to,
even if it's for a moment. 

Because, 
life needs a moment
to turn itself upside-down.

// Midnight Quill //
[RubaiaMQ]

~*~

The Past.
Nine Months Later.
19th December 1998.

"Happy Birthday!" Mama said gleefully as she walked into Anaya's room. Her expression changed almost immediately when she looked at her daughter.

Anaya lay still, unmoving, her skin radiating heat like a brick right out of the oven. There were droplets of sweats all over her body and her breathing was unsteady.

"Anay? Baby are you okay?"

"I can't breathe, Mama..." she managed to say, her voice frail.

Mama ran out to the kitchen to fetch a damp towel to reduce the heat before taking her daughter to the hospital. She ran past her husband who was dead asleep on the couch. He had arrived home very late and drunk the night before. He didn't bother going to the bedroom when he arrived home. There was no way he was going to deal with more of Mama's nagging and complaints about how useless he was around the house and how he had made alcohol his own devil. He was safe on the couch and so he sought refuge there.

The television he had switched on before he passed out was still on. The early morning news was being broadcasted. Mama just looked at him, shook her head and walked past him. There were more pressing issues she could focus her attention on that morning — her daughter was burning like hell very early in the morning.

"In our top stories, The USA President, Bill Clinton, is impeached by the United States House of Representatives, becoming the second President of the United States to be impeached. More on that later..."

The voice from television faded behind Mama as she made her way back to Anaya's room with the wet towel.

***

The hospital had been built long ago like the city that surrounded it. And as Mama expected, its interior was also dated. Everything was a subdued colour; no bright pastel shades only washed-out shades of white. From the exhausted-looking floor to the dented walls it was depression served cold. How was anyone supposed to get well in a hospital like this?

The corridor was crowded but what would you expect from a public hospital in a place like Abikiali? The air had an undertone of bleach — one that gave a scent to sickness.

Mama made her way to the waiting area directed there by the receptionist at the entrance of the hospital. Anaya was being carried on her back still looking weak.

Right behind them, a team of paramedics bolted through the double doors. The stretcher's wheels and the sound of rapid footsteps could be heard. A pregnant woman lay on the stretcher groaning and crying out in pain. She seemed to be in labour. A man who looked like the husband followed them holding the hands of the woman and trying to help her through the pain.

Mama walked fast to the other side of the corridor when she saw the stretcher would be passing where she had stood earlier.

"I'm sorry, Sir, you cannot follow them." One nurse stopped the man, Olamide, at the door of the room that had "Maternity Ward" boldly written in front of it.

"But why?" was all Olamide could spit out. His mind was filled with a series of horrible outcomes of his wife's labour, each worse than the last. Was Nia going to be okay? Was she going to survive with their daughter? How unbearable the pain might be for her?

"You have to wait like everyone else in the waiting room," The nurse said, her tone educated but abrupt, gesturing to the area she spoke of. Face stern, she watched as he sat on one of the hard plastic seats, dejected.

Olamide sat down and sighed. He began biting his nails. He was restless and hoped Nia would be fine. He tried to stop himself from feeling how he was feeling but nothing seemed to work.

"She will be fine," a voice said from behind him. He turned and was met with the radiant smile of Mama. How she managed to get that smile on her face when her daughter was clearly not feeling well was breathtaking.

"Yes, she will be. This is how it usually is. We've all been there. Stop worrying and get ready to welcome your newborn," she continued when Olamide said nothing.

"Thank you very much, ma'am. I just hope she will be." Olamide finally said, relief transforming his face.

"Diarra Zuri..." The stern-looking nurse from before called out at the waiting room.

"Oh, that's me. See you around, Sir." Mama told Olamide as she made her way out of her seat, Anaya on her lap.

"Diarra Zu-"

"Yes, nurse." Mama cut in.

"You can see the doctor now," the nurse directed.

***

Back in the maternity ward, Nia wasn't doing so well. She had been in there for hours but she was having problems pushing the baby out and losing a lot of blood in the process. Each effort made her weaker and the pain was unbearable. Biting the pain was not an option as agonizing cramps seemed to crush her insides from within. Cold shivers shot through her body and both her hands and legs trembled.

"You can do this." The midwife beside Nia's bed whispered with a soft voice as she cleaned the sweat from her face.

Nia's head felt heavier and heavier as every wave of throbbing pain hammered its senses again and again. She screamed as if her guts were being ripped out with a blunt instrument against her will. After a few more pushes, she felt the baby coming through the hot stretching of flesh and held her breath. The midwives saw it too.

"It is coming. I can see the head. Great work, Nia. Keep pushing."

Without further effort, the baby fell into the midwife's hands. There was exhilaration, at last, a child, and there she was in seconds, opening nascent eyes, rooting mouth for milk but Nia was only fit to give up the ghost.

She inhaled a trembling breath as she watched her baby girl being cleaned. She smiled, sweat accumulating on her skin: icy cold. She turned her head and didn't move. She was gone.

The midwife found out when she returned with the baby for Nia to see her.

Olamide stood up immediately he saw the midwife walk out of the ward towards him. He had been waiting for hours and had had nothing to eat. He looked exhausted — like he was in labour with his wife.

"Where is she? Has she given birth yet?" He asked, worry overtaking him. The midwife sighed and took longer than expected to begin talking. Olamide might have caught on to something but he didn't want to jump to any conclusions.

"I am sorry, Sir but we lost her. Your wife. We did all we could but it was just the baby we could save," she said finally.

A surge of pain washed over him. His mind began screaming out as the agony shot across his body. Every thought that he had got lost as the burning pain stroked his heart like a blazing hot fire.

His eyes turned to the floor and shimmered with tears. They fell from his eyes when he blinked and rolled down his face. He tightly bit his lip in an effort to hide any sound that might escape his mouth. He didn't want to be seen crying. Their society saw a man who cried as weak and questioned his manliness. "Real men don't cry", was what any man who did it was told.

Men are expected to hide their emotions and refrain from expressing them even when something or someone hurt them. To be a "real" man is to possess and exhibit strength — psychologically, physically and emotionally. There should be no manifestation of any sort of vulnerability or frailty. Even if it meant suppressing the emotions inside, a man must not break. Regardless of how much they are bent.

As if being reminded of these words, Olamide cleared the droplets of tears from his face and looked at the midwife. There he was — the real African man.

His next words were, "Where's my daughter?"

"Due to her difficult birth and because the mother has passed away, she's being kept at the neonatal intensive care unit. Would like to see her?"

He nodded and they made their way to the NICU. A young girl, about 2 years old, stood in front of the glasslike wall staring at the babies in the room with a satisfactory smile on her face.

Olamide and the nurse walked over to the window. Ignoring Anaya's presence, the nurse pointed at the baby Nia who was in a crip, asleep. He stood there and watched her in awe. It was as if he was using an X-Ray vision of some sort on her. He couldn't believe how tiny new humans are — how vulnerable, how awe-inspiring. Baby Nia's tiny toes peeked from the pink blanket that wrapped her body. Her head was topped by a crazy mass of black curls and her eyes, although closed, were as tiny as mustard seeds. When she stretched, her hands barely rose above her head.

Surprisingly, Olamide smiled as he watched her. His face had this expression that exuded hope. It was almost as if he could see through the future and could see that Nia didn't just leave him with an empty hole but gave Baby Nia to fill that whole she left. By just looking at their daughter, he knew they would be fine.

The blissful and longed-for moment he was having with his daughter was interrupted by a voice from behind him. He turned and saw the woman from earlier.

She looked like she had run a marathon and she seemed to be scolding the young girl they'd met earlier at the NICU. He hadn't paid attention to the girl earlier but now that he saw her with the woman, he realized she was the sick daughter the woman had brought to the hospital.

"Anaya? How could you leave the room like that? Do you know how worried you've made me? God help me, I could slap you right now," Mama fumed.

"Take it easy on her," Olamide remarked. "She seems like an adventurous girl," he added.

"She definitely is but sometimes it gets out of hand."

"How was she able to leave without your notice?" he asked.

"She was supposed to wait while I went out to get her something to eat before her drugs. We've been here for hours now and she hasn't taken in anything good."

"Sorry, she made you panic. You found her now. Please, don't scold her anymore."

"I wouldn't." Mama smiled. "Talking about kids, Congratulations on your newborn. She shares the same birthday as my daughter."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes. Today is her birthday as well. She turned two today but unfortunately, she woke up sick." Mama explained.

"Interesting coincidence," Olamide said, went down on his knees to talk to Anaya.

"What's your name?"

"Anaya!" The little girl mumbled rather coyly.

Olamide and Mama both burst into laughter.

"That's my daughter over there." He pointed at Baby Nia as she stood up.

"She's a beautiful one, isn't she?" Mama beamed.

"She is. Just like her mother." Olamide paused immediately.

"She sure is beautiful, her mother. Where is she anyway?" Mama asked but got the hint of what might have happened when Olamide's expression closed up at the question. She caught on with the situation at hand and felt horrible for bringing it up.

"I am so sorry. I...I didn't know."

"It is alright. You had no bad intention. I—"

"Sorry to interrupt, Sir, but the doctor wants to see you." The nurse who ushered him there earlier cut in.

"Alright. I will be right there." He responded and turned to Mama. "It was nice meeting you, Mrs..."

"Miss Diarra Zuri." Mama responded ignoring the shock that appeared on Olamide's face when she changed the "Mrs" to "Miss". She knew the exact question in his mind but there were better things to worry about.

"I am Olamide. I will go ahead then." With that, he walked out of the NICU leaving Mama concerned. How would he manage to live without his wife and also raise a daughter? How heartbroken he must be.

***

~*~
The chapter was proofread and edited by my new friend, Wattpad Star and Freelance Copyeditor, SavvyDunn.
Thank you so much.
~*~

Finally, I have 9,746 words in total. I made it to the ONC round 2 deadline with just a few hours to spare. Woohoo!

Also, did I tell you guys that this book got added to ambassadorsAF's "Beyond the Realms" reading list? If not, then here it is!