For years, I told myself to be understanding. To forgive. To keep peace. But now… now I was so tired I couldn’t even muster words for her fake sympathy.
So I ignored her. I turned my face away.
Beatrice’s lips trembled—then she dropped into a sob, loud and exaggerated, the kind that could rattle walls. “Sister, please! Don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry, okay? I should have defended you from them. I just want us to be okay!”
Her crocodile tears spilled as she collapsed beside me, wailing.
The basement door creaked open. Oliver’s voice thundered. “What’s happening?”
Beatrice clutched her arm, trembling with feigned fear. “She—she pushed me! She’s mad at me, Oliver!”
My chest tightened. I wanted to scream Liar! but my lungs refused to cooperate. My head spun, my knees wavered. I couldn’t breathe.
So instead of fighting, I walked past them both. Step after step, desperate to leave the suffocating air. But before I reached the door, the world tilted—and darkness swallowed me whole.
When sound returned, it came in fragments.
“She needs blood,” a voice said.
“None available in the bank,” another replied.
I recognized Oliver’s sharp tone, irritated, impatient. “Then wait until there’s some.”
“Sir, her blood count is dropping. If we wait too long—”
“Let her. Maybe it’s better this way. She’s been nothing but a burden. This would be a natural death if ever.”
I wanted to scream. To ask him How could you? But my body was too weak, trapped in sleep.
“I can donate.” Beatrice’s voice. Hesitant, trembling.
“No. You’re anemic. You’ll faint at a needle prick. Forget it.” Oliver’s answer was cold, final.
And then silence.
When I woke up fully, I was in a hospital bed, an IV dripping beside me. A nurse smiled softly. “Mrs. Smith, you’re awake. Please, don’t move too much. You need rest. You had dengue, and your blood count dropped dangerously low. You almost…”
Her voice trailed off. I didn’t need her to finish. I already knew.
I swallowed hard, my lips dry. “Who… donated blood? Did they find one? Was it Oliver?”
The nurse hesitated. Then she shook her head gently. “No. A stranger. He came right away. Paid for everything, too. Said he couldn’t just stand by.”
“A stranger?” My heart thumped strangely. “Do I… know him?”
She smiled faintly and handed me a slip of paper. “He left his number. He said you’d understand when you called.”
My hands trembled as I dialed. When the line clicked, a voice answered.