Chapter four: A Night Of Shame
653 Words
The sky was just beginning to brighten when Lina left the hospital.
The air smelled of wet dust and sorrow. She walked like a ghost, her bare feet splashing through puddles, the rain from the night before still dripping from rooftops.
In her hands, she clutched a small plastic bag that held her mother’s blood-stained scarf — the last thing that belonged to her.
Her eyes were swollen and red. Her lips trembled, but no sound came out.
She had screamed all her voice away inside the hospital. Now, silence was all that remained.
The streets were waking up. Traders opened their stalls, buses roared by, and people shouted prices. But none of it touched her.
She moved through the noise like she didn’t exist.
She didn’t know where she was going — only that she couldn’t stay near the hospital any longer.
When she reached their tiny home, the door creaked open like it knew her grief. The room smelled faintly of herbs and smoke, and the sight of her mother’s slippers by the bed tore something inside her.
Lina dropped the scarf on the mattress and sank to the floor.
The envelope of money still sat in her bag — now useless.
She picked it up and stared at it for a long time. The notes looked strange, dirty, almost evil.
She threw them across the room. The bills scattered in the air before landing around her like fallen leaves.
She pressed her hands to her face and sobbed until her chest hurt.
It wasn’t fair.
She had done everything she could — everything.
And yet, life had taken her mother anyway.
Hours passed. The light in the room dimmed. Still, she sat there, motionless.
When night came, the sound of rain returned, soft and steady against the roof. Lina finally stood and looked at her reflection in the cracked mirror.
Her eyes looked hollow. Her face was pale. The girl staring back at her wasn’t the same one who used to dream.
“I lost everything,” she whispered. “Everything.”
The next few days blurred together.
Neighbors came to express pity. The landlord muttered about rent. Someone from the hospital came with papers to sign for her mother’s burial.
Lina moved through it all like a sleepwalker, saying little, feeling less.
The burial was small — a wooden coffin, a short prayer, a handful of dust falling onto the grave.
When everyone left, Lina stayed behind, staring at the mound of soil until darkness fell.
Her mother had been her only family, her only reason to smile. Now she was gone, and the world felt colder than ever.
Weeks passed, but the emptiness didn’t fade.
Lina tried to pick up small jobs — washing clothes for neighbors, selling fruits on the roadside — anything to survive.
Sometimes she went to the hospital just to sit outside, staring at the building that had stolen her peace.
Then one morning, she woke up feeling strange. Her head spun, her stomach twisted, and before she could reach the bathroom, she threw up.
At first, she thought it was stress or maybe bad food. But the next day, it happened again. And again.
By the third day, she knew something was wrong.
She dragged herself to the nearest clinic. The nurse, an older woman with tired eyes, asked a few questions before handing her a test.
Lina waited in silence, her fingers tapping against her thigh, her heartbeat echoing in her ears.
When the nurse returned, she had a piece of paper in her hand. Her eyes softened with pity.
“Miss Lux,” she said gently. “You’re pregnant.”
Lina froze. The words didn’t make sense at first.
“I’m what?”
“Pregnant,” the nurse repeated. “About five or six weeks along.”
Lina’s mind went blank.
It was like the world stopped spinning for a moment.
- Writer
- chap_listContents
- likeADD