Chapter Two
1003 Words
Chapter 2:
The shrill beeping of the heart monitor echoed through the quiet hospital corridor.
Clara hadn't slept.
She sat on the hard plastic chair outside her mother's room, still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Her eyes burned from exhaustion, but every time she closed them, she saw the doctor's solemn expression and heard the amount she needed to pay.
Fifty thousand dollars.
It wasn't just a number.
It was a mountain standing between her and the only family she had left.
A nurse stepped out of the room carrying a clipboard.
"Miss Bennett?"
Clara stood immediately.
"Yes?"
"You can see your mother for a few minutes. She's still unconscious, but her condition is stable."
Relief flooded Clara's chest.
"Thank you."
She quietly pushed the door open.
The room smelled of antiseptic. Machines hummed softly as they monitored Evelyn Bennett's condition.
Her mother looked so small beneath the white hospital blanket.
Bandages wrapped around her forehead, and one arm rested in a cast. Bruises stained her skin.
Clara's heart tightened.
This wasn't the woman who used to laugh while dancing around the tiny kitchen on Sunday mornings.
This wasn't the woman who always insisted she was "too strong to get sick."
She gently took her mother's hand.
It was cold.
"Mum..."
Her voice trembled.
"I'm here."
Tears blurred her vision.
"You always told me everything would be okay."
She forced a weak smile.
"So... this time it's my turn to tell you."
She squeezed Evelyn's fingers gently.
"You'll get through this. I promise."
The promise sounded much braver than she felt.
Because she had absolutely no idea how she was going to keep it.
After a few minutes, Clara quietly left the room.
Outside, the doctor was waiting.
"I wish I had better news," he said gently. "Your mother is responding well, but the surgery shouldn't be delayed for long."
Clara lowered her eyes.
"I understand."
"We'll do everything we can, Miss Bennett. But we also need the required deposit before we can proceed."
"I know."
Those two words felt heavier than anything she'd ever spoken.
She watched the doctor disappear down the hallway before sitting on a nearby bench.
Slowly, she unlocked her phone.
Her bank balance appeared on the screen.
$1,842.36.
She stared at it for a long time.
It wasn't even enough to cover a fraction of the bill.
She opened her contacts.
Lily.
She hesitated before pressing the call button.
Her coworker answered almost immediately.
"Clara! I've been worried about you. How's your mum?"
"She's alive."
"Oh, thank goodness."
"But..." Clara swallowed hard. "The surgery is expensive."
Without hesitation, Lily asked, "How much do you need?"
Clara almost couldn't bring herself to say it.
"...Fifty thousand."
Silence.
Not because Lily didn't care.
Because the amount was unimaginable.
"I'm so sorry," Lily whispered. "I don't have anything close to that. I can send you five hundred dollars... it's not much..."
Clara's eyes filled with tears.
"No... it's more than enough. Thank you."
After ending the call, Clara leaned back against the wall.
Five hundred dollars.
She still needed almost fifty thousand more.
She called an aunt.
The answer was apologetic.
She called an uncle.
He claimed business had been slow.
She called an old family friend.
The phone rang until it disconnected.
One by one, every small hope slipped away.
By noon, Clara had stopped counting the rejections.
She walked outside the hospital, the warm afternoon sun doing nothing to ease the heaviness in her chest.
Across the street, people laughed, hurried to work, and carried on with their lives.
The world hadn't stopped.
Only hers had.
She bought the cheapest cup of coffee from a vending machine and sat on a bench.
For a long time, she simply stared at the paper cup in her hands.
Then she whispered to herself,
"There has to be another way."
Giving up wasn't an option.
Not while her mother was still fighting.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a small notebook.
On the first blank page, she wrote:
Things I Can Do
- Sell my laptop.
- Sell my jewelry.
- Ask for extra shifts.
- Apply for higher-paying jobs.
- Borrow wherever possible.
She looked at the list.
It wasn't enough.
Not even close.
Yet crossing her arms and crying wouldn't save her mother either.
Clara closed the notebook and stood.
"I'll figure something out," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else.
"I have to .
When Clara gets home, the apartment is painfully quiet.
She notices her mother's slippers by the door, a half-finished knitting project on the sofa, and a pot of soup still sitting on the stove from the previous night.
She whispers,
"You were waiting for me to come home..."
She can't bring herself to throw the soup away.
Instead, she sits at the dining table and cries for the first time since the accident.
Clara pulls out an old tin box from her wardrobe.
Inside are a few savings,Her late father's wristwatch ,Her graduation medal from secondary school, A necklace her mother gave her on her eighteenth birthday.
She picks up the necklace.
"Mum said never to sell this..."
She closes her eyes.
"But if it saves your life... you'll forgive me."
The owner carefully examines everything.
"This is all I can offer."
He writes down the amount.
Clara's face falls.
"It's... that's all?"
"I'm afraid so."
She nods silently, takes the money, and walks out.
Outside, she checks the total.
Even after selling almost everything she owns...
She still isn't even halfway to the hospital bill.
She goes back to the café.
Her manager notices her swollen eyes.
"How's your mother?"
Clara explains everything.
The manager sighs.
"I wish I could help more."
He hands her an envelope.
"It's your salary... and next week's pay in advance."
Clara's eyes widen.
"You don't have to—"
"I know I don't. But you're one of my best workers."
She bows repeatedly thanking him.
Even then...
The money is still far from enough.
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