Never: His Regret

CHAPTER 6: "Uncle Nice"

Olivia's POV

I was just sitting in the meeting and getting acquainted with the new staff feeling elated to be with them when suddenly I got a call from an unsaved contact. I ignored the call, and moments later, I was done and heading to my car.

Today was another day off work for me, but the Joy of acquaintance never dissipated.

I knew Jumia should be out of school by now and would be patiently waiting for me. Just as I was about to start the engine, I got the same call again.

I ignored it once more, the joy I felt replaced with bitterness.

However, this time, the caller called back immediately, and I shrugged before answering. My instincts already told me it was Liam calling.

I knew too well that after yesterday's confrontation at the grand opening, he would try to get my number and call. He appeared desperate.

“Hello, don’t call me again. I don’t….”

“This is the police. Your driver just had an accident. From the report, he was badly injured and has been taken to the hospital,” the voice asserted, and my heart quickened at the thought of Jumia.

“What about my child, Jumia?” I asked immediately, starting the car and already driving toward the school route that led home.

“From the report we have now, there is no little child currently at the scene.”

“What? Where exactly did this happen?”

“At Saint Crest Avenue, just off the expressway,” he replied. I dropped the call, my heart racing and my eyes filling with tears as I sped toward the location.

No. Nothing would happen to my son. No, nothing. I kept reassuring myself as I drove hurriedly in that direction.

Nervousness and dread shredded every fiber of my being, and my heartbeat increased with every press of the accelerator.

I wouldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to Jumia. I couldn’t. I was supposed to pick him up, but I had instructed the driver to do so. Why did I have to do that? I slammed my hand on the car horn to clear the road of any obstruction as my desperation heightened.

Moments later, I arrived and jumped out of the car, pushing my way to the scene.

By now, the damaged car was already being towed, but I couldn’t find Jumia. My heart skipped a thousand beats in that instant.

“Mummy,” I heard his voice from behind, and without a second's delay, I ran to meet him, oblivious to what was happening around me, as he grabbed me in an embrace.

My hands wrapped around him as I took a deep breath, reassuring myself that he was safe and right there in my arms.

After a moment, he broke free, raising his head. That was when I saw the scratch on his head, with a little blood gushing out of the wounded area.

I reached for my white handkerchief to press against the spot. As I knelt to his level, I noticed the fear etched in his face and his bloodshot eyes.

“You’re fine now, and Mum is right here with you,” I assured him, cupping his cheeks in my hands and gazing directly into his tiny grey eyes to reassure him of his safety.

“Mum, I was scared earlier, but I wasn’t scared anymore after Uncle Nice came to stay with me,” he said, and I wondered who this "Uncle Nice" could be.

“Who’s Uncle Nice? And how do you know him?”

“I…” he trailed off as the cop approached.

“Ma’am, I believe you are Olivia Peters?”

“Yes, sir. Any updates?”

“The driver was taken to the emergency ward at a nearby hospital. You’ll need to check on him and make the necessary payment for his immediate treatment,” he explained, jotting notes in the small book he held.

“All right, I’ll go there now and also request his transfer to Berks Hospital, where he can be properly cared for,” I replied, trying to compose myself in the chaos of the moment.

Soon, I drove off with Jumia, and the arrangements for the transfer were successful. I was grateful the driver wasn’t in a more severe condition and was responding to treatment. I was even more thankful that Jumia only had a scratch.

But I kept wondering what could have caused the accident.

From the reports and CCTV footage, nothing unusual was detected before the incident, and even the car that got crushed wasn’t seen; something that felt oddly strange.

Only the driver could explain what happened before everything spiraled.

“Mum, don’t you think we should invite Uncle Nice over so you can thank him for staying with me before you arrived?” Jumia chimed in as soon as we reached the mansion.

“Son, that would be nice, but I don’t know who he is or anything about him. Don’t you think it’s a little strange to invite a stranger into our home?” I replied, still processing everything he had just said. But then, he hadn’t had time to tell me how he knew this "Uncle Nice" in the three short days since we’d arrived in New York.

“Mum, he’s a nice man,” he blurted, fixing his pleading gaze on mine.

“Come to think of it, how do you know so much about a stranger? After all the training you’ve received, never to talk to strangers?” I inquired, my voice raised slightly above normal.

He remained silent for a while, picking at his fingers. I felt a little restrained; maybe I had been too harsh in my tone and choice of words. I reached out, placing my hands on his shoulders and tapping him gently.

“Mum, he was the one I told you about, the man who helped me at the airport the other day. I also met him at school; I suspect his child attends the same school as mine. When the incident startled me, I ran to the other side of the scene, where I stood frozen. That’s when Uncle Nice appeared and comforted me while my heart was racing. He left a few seconds later due to an emergency, just before you arrived. That’s why I think we should invite him over to show our appreciation.”

He paused, lowering his head and still picking at his fingers as I watched in amazement.

“Mum, you’ve always taught me to be grateful. Wouldn’t it be nice if we showed him a little appreciation by inviting him for dinner?” he protested, his voice determined. I could see his mind was set on thanking his Uncle Nice.

However, I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea, but I still felt the man deserved some gratitude for being there for my child when he needed someone.

“So, how do I get in touch with him?” I asked reluctantly.

“Is that a yes?” He looked up, his eyebrows raised in anticipation.

“Yes,” I blurted out forcefully. He smiled warmly and planted a kiss on my palm.

“Don’t worry, Mum. I have his contact.”