WHEN THE STORM COMES
1109 Words
People do say time flies and indeed it does,Amaka is now 8 months gone,the stomach now big and heavy but she still manage to go to work nevertheless
Meanwhile,Kelvin is somewhere staring at the blinking cursor on his screen, the unsent message staring back at him like a ghost. His fingers hovered over the keyboard, shaky, uncertain.
> “Amaka, it’s me—Kelvin.”
He couldn’t send it.
He’d typed and deleted it a hundred times.
What if she blocked him? What if she never forgave him?
Worse—what if she’d moved on?
His online business wasn’t booming the way he'd hoped. Deals kept falling through. Clients were flaky. He had just enough to feed himself, pay rent, and keep up the illusion of success on social media.
The more he saw her photos—the baby bump growing, her smile shifting from broken to whole—the more he realized what he had lost.
He wanted her back.
But how could he ask for forgiveness when he still couldn’t forgive himself?
---
Meanwhile…
Amaka waddled slowly down the hallway of the clinic, one hand on her lower back, the other gripping her antenatal card. The doctor’s voice echoed in her head like a bell:
> “You need to stop working immediately, Miss Amaka. Your blood pressure is rising, and the baby is pressing harder against your lower pelvis. Any more stress and we might be facing a premature delivery or worse.”
She’d nodded then, numb and scared.
Victor didn’t take it lightly.
When she got back to the dorm and handed him the clinic slip, he didn’t even let her finish speaking.
“That’s it,” he said, taking off her bag. “You’re done with that job. No more arguments.”
“Victor—”
“No, Amaka. This isn’t about pride anymore. It’s about your life—and the baby’s.”
She wanted to fight. She wanted to scream. But the worry in his eyes silenced her.
So she stayed home.
She read novels, watched old rom-coms on his laptop, cleaned up the room, and waited. Waited for time to pass, for the baby to come, for her world to make sense again.
But inside, she hated the feeling of being useless.
Victor tried to make her smile. He’d bring her random snacks, rub her feet at night, tell her stories about school drama and lecturers who barely showed up. He did everything right.
And still, something gnawed at her.
She just didn’t feel like herself anymore.
---
Then came the night.
The contractions started softly, like whispers in the dark. By morning, they were loud screams.
Victor rushed her to the clinic, cradling her like fragile glass, trying not to panic even though his heart was hammering.
Hours passed.
The doctor came out at some point, face grim.
“Her cervix is too small. She’s not dilating enough for a safe delivery. We’ll have to go in for an emergency cesarean section.”
Victor’s throat dried.
“How much will it cost?”
The figure hit him like cold water.
He didn’t hesitate.
He stepped outside, dialed his mother,several times but she did not pick up his mom is not usually like this,she's probably busy he thought but why is it on days like this?....he deposited the little money in his account and told the doctor to go ahead with the surgery,that he'll pay the rest before her discharge,the nurses on duty prepared Amaka for theatre,this time around she's scared as well but silently praying to survive it in her mind, another problem arose when the doctor told Victor to call Amaka's parent or guardian to sign the papers,he told the doctor he's Amaka’s guardian,but the doctor insisted,after series of questions the doctor later agreed.
Meanwhile,he's still unsure of how and where to get the balance for the hospital bills and just when he was lost in thought,his phone rang and that k God it was his mom
“Mom… I need money. It’s urgent. School stuff. They said if I don’t pay this week, I’ll be deferred.”
His mom didn’t ask questions as she already knows he won't call for such unless it's really urgent, She sent the money.
With trembling hands, Victor paid the balance for the surgery.
He stayed in the waiting room, pacing endlessly, whispering prayers under his breath. “Please, God. Save her. Just let her be okay.”
---
Hours later…
The doctor stepped out, cap in hand.
“She’s fine. Stable. But I’m… I’m sorry about the baby. We did everything we could, but the baby didn’t make it.”
Victor felt the ground shift beneath him.
He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t breathe.
He just stood there, frozen, the world a dull buzz around him,he nodded, numb, then stepped into the hospital bathroom and broke down like never before. He pressed his fist into the wall until his knuckles split. He sobbed silently, head bowed, shame and heartbreak soaking his chest like rain.
---
When Amaka woke up…
She didn’t ask immediately.
Her fingers reached for her stomach, slow and trembling.
“Where’s my baby?” she whispered, barely audible.
Victor sat beside her, holding her hand, his own eyes red.
There was no need to say it. She saw it in his silence. Felt it in the weight of his grip.
And then she broke.
She cried like the world had ended. The pain, the fear, the emptiness—it crashed over her in waves.
Victor didn’t say anything.
He just held her.
He let her scream into his chest. Let her grieve. Let her hate the world and fate and maybe even him.
And when her sobs faded into exhausted silence, he kissed her hair and whispered, “I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Days passed.
Amaka didn’t speak.
She stared out the window during visiting hours. Ate nothing. Slept only when sedated. The nurses whispered about her—“Poor girl… so young.”
Victor tried everything—books, flowers, whispered jokes—but her eyes remained distant.
Until one night, she finally spoke.
“I failed.”
“No,” he said softly, sitting beside her again. “You didn’t.”
“I couldn’t even give you the baby…”
Victor’s jaw clenched. “You gave me you. That’s all I ever wanted. All I still want.”
“But I’m broken,” she whispered.
“You’re human,” he replied, brushing a tear off her cheek. “And you’re still the strongest person I know.”....she continued crying until Victor patted her back to sleep
- Writer
