Chapter 4: Ripple Effects
1401 Words
The hall seemed to stretch endlessly before her, the usual hospital sounds blurring into a distant hum.
Her mind, however, was razor-sharp, reeling with a single, undeniable truth. Yeboah-Davis. It had clicked as soon as she saw the parents, a name whispered in the upper echelons of society, one she rarely bothered with.
Josephine wasn't just well-known; she was the daughter of the former president, a man whose wealth could buy nations, whose influence spanned continents.
Jane had heard the whispers, of course. The former president had a daughter, fiercely private, rarely seen, a ghost in the tabloids. And now, Jane, Dr. Jane Thompson from a modest background, had not only met her but was tasked with her personal care.
As if that wasn't enough, there was this. This inexplicable pull, this sudden, undefined feeling that settled deep in her chest whenever Josephine's eyes met hers. It was more than curiosity; it was something she couldn't name, couldn't categorize, and certainly couldn't afford to feel.
Jane stood in front of her open locker at the hospital's on-call quarters, she had washed face several times, towel over her shoulder.
She still felt flushed.
Why did she say she was jealous?
Why did I offer snacks?
Why do I suddenly feel like I'm sixteen again?
She groaned quietly, grabbed her worn hoodie, and pulled it on. Coffee. She needed coffee.
Back in her small room—one of the older, barely-lit ones in the doctors' hostel—Jane stirred two sugar cubes into a chipped mug and sat at the edge of her bed. Her damp hair clung to her jaw. Her hands wrapped around the warmth of the cup, but it didn't chase away the cold swirl in her stomach.
She wasn't supposed to feel anything. Not this soon. Not now.
Jose wasn't just stunning—she was dangerous.
Not in the obvious way. But in the slow, sinking way. Like she could slip under Jane's skin without even trying.
Jane leaned her head back against the wall and let out a long, shaky breath.
Then her phone buzzed.
She reached for it, half-hoping it was Nurse Adwoa with some distraction.
It was her mother.
Mum: Call me. It's important.
Jane sighed, hit the dial button, and brought the phone to her ear.
"Ma."
"Jane. Did you get my message?"
"You mean the one about the mystery husband I don't want?"
"Don't say it like that. He's a good man."
"I'm not marrying him, Ma. I've told you."
"You've also told me you're still not getting paid. Your little sister's tuition is due, and the electricity was off again this morning."
Jane closed her eyes. That sharp, buried ache—responsibility. Guilt. Reality.
"I'll figure something out."
"He's a family friend. No pressure now. Just meet him."
"No."
A pause. Not silence, just the kind that bruises.
"I didn't raise you to be difficult."
"You raised me to be independent. I'm choosing that."
Then, softer: "Love you, Ma."
And she hung up before her mother could say anything else.
Meanwhile – Back in Room 9
Jose had convinced the nurse to dim the lights a bit. Her brothers were stretched out like they owned the room—Jayden on the couch, Jordan on the floor, both fiddling with their game consoles. Jonathan had stepped out to answer a call, and their parents had gone back to the hotel.
"So," Jose said quietly, voice rough from the oxygen. "The doctor."
Jordan looked up. "She's cool, right?"
Jayden chimed in, "She gave us two juices each."
Jose narrowed her eyes. "Are we rating people based on juice now?"
"Only the important ones," Jordan replied, snickering.
There was a beat of quiet, then Jose asked, "Did she… say anything about me?"
Jayden squinted at her. "You mean, like what?"
"Like... when I was unconscious. Did she look worried? Or… weird?"
Jordan sat up. "Okay wait. Why do you sound weird?"
"I'm on meds," Jose snapped.
"Sure. Must be the gay meds," Jordan muttered dramatically.
Jayden gasped. "You like her!"
Jose glared. "Shut up."
"You do!" Jordan pointed. "Oh my god. Mum's gonna freak—"
"She doesn't know."
Jayden rolled over dramatically. "She always knows."
Jose slumped slightly into her pillow, a soft sigh escaping.
"She touched my face when I was asleep," she whispered.
Both boys froze.
"Like… weird touches?" Jordan asked cautiously.
"No. Like… gentle." She paused. "Like someone who thought I wouldn't notice."
Jayden whistled low. "Damn."
Jordan smirked. "Bet."
Jose rolled her eyes. "Go to sleep."
"Don't fall in love with your doctor, Jose," Jayden said in a singsong voice. "That's so cliché."
Jose smiled faintly, turning her head to the side.
"Too late, boys."
Jose lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling with a grin she couldn't quite wipe off. Jayden's teasing still rang in her ears, but instead of shoving it away, she let it sit there—warm and dangerous.
Her fingers itched for her phone.
"Just curious," she muttered to herself as she opened i********:.
She typed in Jane Thompson.
Too many results.
She narrowed it down—added "Ghana" to the search.
Still too many.
Scrolling… scrolling… then she saw it.
jthompson with a sleek black-and-white profile picture.
She tapped.
The moment the profile loaded, Jose sat up.
It wasn't private.
And Jane—no, Dr. Thompson—looked nothing like a doctor here.
Her page was a curated gallery of sharp, clean photography.
Candid street shots, sunsets spilling across rooftops, rainy afternoons caught in perfect droplets.
And then there were the self-portraits.
God.
She wasn't posing like the women Jose was used to seeing online.
She stood like a model—shoulders relaxed, one hand in her pocket, chin tilted just slightly forward. Confidence. Effortless.
Half the pictures looked like they belonged in a men's fashion magazine.
Loose white button-downs, rolled-up sleeves, a leather jacket slung over her shoulder, tailored suits with sneakers.
Her hair was slightly messy, like the wind had claimed her mid-walk, and she hadn't cared to fix it.
Jose bit her lip.
This wasn't just a doctor.
This was someone who could break hearts without even trying.
She scrolled deeper.
There were no stethoscopes, no scrubs, no white coats—just a life outside the hospital walls.
A shot of her laughing at a café table with friends.
A blurry picture of her holding a coffee cup while talking to someone off-frame.
And then one photo stopped Jose's thumb mid-scroll—
Jane sitting on a motorbike, one leg casually propped on the ground, helmet in hand, smirking at the camera like she owned the road.
Jose's heart did a ridiculous little flip.
She actually had to put the phone down for a second.
"This is dangerous," she whispered, smiling to herself.
But two seconds later, she picked it up again.
She wasn't done yet.
Her finger hovered over the Follow button.
Should she?
Her pulse quickened.
She hit it.
And almost immediately, she regretted it—not because she didn't want to follow Jane, but because now Jane would know.
Her phone buzzed.
She froze.
Follow request accepted.
And right under it—
Dr. Jane Thompson started following you back.
Jose's grin spread so wide, she had to bury her face in the pillow to stop herself from squealing.
Jose stared at the screen, still half-hidden in her pillow.
She was trying to decide whether to casually like a few photos or disappear before she embarrassed herself when the screen lit up again.
A message.
From Jane.
Her thumb trembled as she opened it.
Jane Thompson:
So… you were stalking me on i********:?
Jose's jaw dropped.
Her fingers flew across the keyboard.
Jose: Stalking is a strong word.
The typing bubbles appeared instantly.
Jane Thompson: You scrolled back far enough to find the motorbike picture. That's commitment.
Jose's eyes widened.
Was Jane… keeping track?
Jose: Maybe I just appreciate good photography.
Jane Thompson: Mhm. Sure.
Jose smirked at her phone before quickly typing:
Jose: Speaking of appreciation… I'm still waiting for that snack you promised me.
There was a short pause before the reply came.
Jane Thompson: You're still not strong enough to move around.
Jose: When will I be then, or you are trying to escape your promise?
Jane Thompson: l will let you know when you are fit enough. I always keep my promises
Jose's stomach fluttered.
- Writer
