But it was too late.
Amara's chest stopped moving. Her face relaxed into stillness. Her body was gone cold.
Adaobi broke down, clutching her lifeless sister against her chest, wailing. "No! Amara, no! Please come back. Please don't leave me here alone!"
Instantly, the doctor and a nurse stormed the room, trying to check Amara's pulse...
************
Alex sat in his office, restless. His pen rolled between his fingers, tapping against the desk, but his mind was not with the papers before him.
His heart was heavy, thoughts scattered. He didn't even notice when his colleague walked in, carrying a file.
"Dr. Spencer," the colleague said, placing the folder gently on the table, "this is the list of patients waiting for you in the cue."
Alex barely looked up. His voice was distant. "Drop it there."
The colleague turned to leave but paused at the door. His eyes narrowed as he studied Alex. "Are you okay?"
Alex's fingers scratched absently at the side of his neck. His nails dragged across the spot again and again until red welts appeared, followed by thin traces of blood.
The colleague frowned. "Wait... is that an allergic reaction?"
Alex jerked slightly, pulling his hand away. "It's nothing. Just go check on the patients."
"Nothing? You're bleeding. You should let someone look at that."
"I said it's fine," Alex muttered, impatience lacing his tone.
But the colleague didn't leave. Instead, he stepped closer. "You know, Amara once compiled a full list of your allergens. Every single thing you react to. She worked on it for days. I still remember her coming around different departments, asking about precautions."
Alex's head lifted slowly. His eyes searched his colleague's face. "Allergens?" he repeated, his voice heavy with surprise.
"Yes. She was very particular. She wanted to be sure you never touched or ate anything that could harm you."
The words hit him deep, but he said nothing. His jaw tightened as he looked away, swallowing hard.
That evening, Alex sat with a group of his friends in their usual lounge. Drinks crowded the table. Laughter and loud music filled the space.
But his mind was lost. His hand moved automatically, lifting glass after glass, gulping whatever his fingers touched.
James leaned over from the other side of the table, his eyes narrowing. "Alex, are you alright? The way you're drinking... this one is not ordinary stress oo. Did your wife leave you?"
Alex dropped his glass and spoke without hesitation. "She divorced me."
The table went silent for a moment. Then one of the friends suddenly jumped to his feet, clapping his hands. "Finally! Congratulations, my brother!"
Another friend raised his own drink, laughing loudly. "Freedom! This calls for a toast." He pushed his glass high in the air. "To Alex, who is now free from chains!"
The men burst into cheers, clinking glasses together. But Alex's face stayed blank. He took another deep gulp, then slammed the glass down on the table with force.
His eyes darkened.
He shot up to his feet.
"I'm out," he muttered. His steps were heavy as he stormed away from the table.
"Alex! Alex!" James called after him. But Alex didn't turn back. He pushed through the crowd and left the lounge.
*******************
By the time he arrived home, alcohol still thick in his blood, his voice thundered through the mansion.
"Where is everyone?!" he roared, throwing his coat to the floor. His eyes darted around the sitting room. "Where is Amara?!"
His voice rose again, desperate. "Amara!"
The butler hurried in, his steps cautious. "Sir..."
Alex spun to face him. "Where is she? Answer me!"
The butler knew his master was aware his wife had left him. But the influence of alcohol or maybe depression had caused a little disorder to his senses.
The butler bowed his head slightly. "Madam has left, sir."
"Left?" Alex's voice cracked. He looked around the room as though she might appear from the shadows.
His fists slammed against the table. "Can't this house function without her? Is everyone blind here?!"
The butler said nothing, only watched him with quiet sorrow.
Alex dropped heavily onto the sofa, his chest heaving. His head bent low into his hands.
After a long silence, the butler cleared his throat. "Sir... there is something you should know."
Alex's eyes shot up sharply. "What is it?"
"This afternoon, while one of the maids was cleaning, she found a paper. It... it was Madam's medical report."
Alex frowned, straightening. "What report?"
The butler hesitated, then spoke carefully. "Madam Amara has brain cancer. Um... Pilocytic Astrocytoma."
The words hit Alex like a thunderclap. He stood suddenly, grabbing the report the butler held out. His eyes scanned the pages.
His breath caught. His body stiffened.
"Brain... cancer?" he whispered. His hands trembled, his eyes wet.
But almost immediately, anger burned through his chest. His voice rose in fury. "No! No, this pathetic trick won't fool me!"
The paper crumpled beneath his grip. He tore it apart in a violent rip. Shreds of paper fell from his fingers like pieces of broken truth, scattering across the floor.
The butler stared, stunned, unable to move.
Alex's face hardened. His chest heaved with wild breaths. He pulled his phone from his pocket, his fingers flying across the screen.
He pressed a number and waited until the voice answered.
"Track her down," Alex ordered, his voice like ice. "Find Amara's location immediately."
His jaw tightened as his eyes burned with fury.
"How dare she fake medical reports just to manipulate me?!"
