You are not alone
932 Words
"The doctor said Daniel has appendicitis and… and he needs to be operated on," the teacher said, stuttering as he struggled to break the news gently.
"What? No! I don't understand what you're saying. I need to see the doctor," Sandra replied, her whole body trembling at the word "surgery."
Her mother had died because they couldn’t afford an operation in time. That trauma had never left her—and now it was happening again.
"Do you know where I can find the doctor? I can't watch him die here. I have to do something. He’ll be fine... he has to be," she whispered, her eyes filled with fear and uncertainty.
"The doctor’s office is the second to last room down this passage," the homeroom teacher said softly, her own eyes brimming with pity.
Sandra walked slowly through the hallway, her legs barely holding her. She clung to the walls for support, and those who passed her thought she had just lost someone. After what felt like forever, she stood before the doctor's office, her breath shaky as she knocked and entered.
The white coat immediately triggered memories. But she forced herself to speak.
"Good day, sir," she said.
"Good day. Please have a seat. How may I help you?" the doctor replied warmly.
"I'm the relative of the patient in room 102—the boy brought in by his school."
"Oh yes, I remember. What about him?"
"I’d like to inquire about his condition."
"Daniel has appendicitis. It isn’t yet critical, but surgery is necessary as soon as possible," said Dr. Mirabel, putting down her pen to emphasize the urgency.
Sandra slumped back in the chair, her voice barely audible. "But why? How did this happen?"
"From what we can tell, Daniel's been eating a very low-fiber diet—unbalanced meals. That could be the cause."
Sandra asked more questions about the surgery and its cost. Dr. Mirabel answered them all patiently.
Sandra stepped out of the office, dazed. She staggered, leaned against the wall, then slid down, her back pressed to the cold surface.
"1.5 million."
The number echoed in her mind like a cruel taunt. Tears poured freely as she bent her head into her knees, her body trembling from the weight of helplessness.
---
Meanwhile, Andre had just handed his mom some takeout.
"Oh, my lovely son, you didn’t need to go through that stress," Dr. Florence said, smiling with pride.
"Mom, it was nothing. If I didn’t bring it, you’d have kept working and forgotten to eat again," Andre teased.
They shared a warm laugh, and after she finished eating, Andre stepped out to throw away the containers.
That’s when he noticed a girl crouched against the wall, her shoulders shaking. As he approached, recognition hit.
"Sandra?" he called softly.
---
Sandra looked up, tears streaking her face. She barely acknowledged him before dropping her head again.
Andre immediately sat beside her.
"I'm not trying to be nosy, but every time I see you, you're either rushing somewhere or crying."
Sandra gave a broken, bitter laugh. "Because that’s all life ever gives me. First, I lost my mom. Now my brother is dying—and again, I can’t do anything about it."
Andre pulled out a handkerchief. "Here... I don’t know everything, but I’d love to see you smile someday. I bet it would be beautiful."
"Smile? I don’t even remember how. I can’t when my brother is lying in that bed and I have no idea how to raise 1.5 million naira. I haven’t even eaten!" she cried, wiping her tears roughly.
Andre nodded. "I understand. But sitting on this cold floor won’t solve anything. What I do know is, you're a fighter. You’ve survived this far. And... you're not alone anymore. I want to be part of your success story. Let’s get up—one step at a time."
He stood and stretched out his hand.
Sandra hesitated—but there was something in his words. They were strange, unfamiliar… but they filled her with warmth. No one had seen her pain like that since her mother died.
She reached out and let him help her up. It was just a spark of hope, faint and fragile—but it was there.
---
They walked to Daniel’s room together. Inside, Mitchell was sitting by her brother’s bed.
"Brother Dany, you’ll be fine. We won’t let you get hurt, okay?" she whispered, her eyes red from crying.
Sandra stood at the door, trembling. Mitchell’s words gave her hope… but they also terrified her. What if she failed them?
Andre’s phone rang—his mom. He looked at Sandra and said again, "You’re not alone. Remember that." Then he walked away.
Those words echoed in her mind like a gentle anthem.
She pushed the door open.
"Big sis, you’re back! What did the doctor say? Dany will be fine, right?" Mitchell asked eagerly.
Sandra took a deep breath. "Yes… he’ll be fine. The doctor said it’s just a small cold. He’ll be on his feet in no time."
"Yay!! I told you, brother Dany! Big sis always fixes everything!" Mitchell cheered.
Sandra’s heart ached at the lie. But at that moment, she made a silent vow: Daniel will be fine. I’ll make it happen.
She called her younger brother, Emma, and explained everything. He came to stay at the hospital while she took Mitchell home.
As they walked, Andre’s words echoed in her soul:
"You’re a survivor… You’re not alone."
And for the first time in a long while, a new light burned quietly in her eyes.
- Writer
