SHATTERED DREAMS

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I sat in the conference room, surrounded by colleagues and the sound of clicking keyboards and murmured discussions about the latest financial reports. I should have been focused, but my mind kept wandering to Hlelo. It had been months since her big job promotion, and while I was proud of her achievements, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. She had been distant, often lost in her thoughts, and I worried about how much pressure she was putting on herself.

As the meeting dragged on, I glanced at my phone, hoping for a message from her. But it remained silent. Just as I was about to refocus on the presentation in front of me, my phone rang. The screen lit up with an unfamiliar number, and a sinking feeling settled in my stomach.

I excused myself and stepped out into the hallway, the noise of the meeting fading behind me. “Hello?” I answered, trying to keep my voice steady despite the unease creeping in.

“Mr. Khumalo?” A calm, authoritative voice came through the line. “This is Nurse Rina from Midrand Netcare Hospital. I’m calling regarding your wife, Hlelolwenkosi.”

My heart dropped. “What happened? Is she okay?”

“She’s currently in the emergency room,” Nurse Rina said, her tone professional yet gentle. “Hlelo came in with severe abdominal pain, and we are assessing her condition now. It’s important that you come to the hospital as soon as possible.”

I felt the world tilt beneath me. “What do you mean? Is she in danger?”

“Right now, we’re doing everything we can for her,” the nurse reassured me. “I can’t provide specific details over the phone, but it’s critical that you arrive here as soon as possible. The doctors will explain everything once you’re here.”

“Okay. I’ll be there right away,” I said, my voice clipped as panic set in. I quickly hung up and rushed back into the conference room, my heart racing.

“Guys, I have to leave,” I said, cutting through the ongoing discussions. My colleagues looked up in surprise, but I didn’t wait for their questions. I grabbed my bag and headed out, my mind a whirlwind of fear and uncertainty.

The drive to the hospital felt like a blur. My thoughts raced as I fought to keep my focus on the road. What could be wrong? Why hadn’t she told me anything? Hlelo was strong—she wouldn’t let herself get to this point without a reason. I couldn’t shake the worry gnawing at me.

When I arrived at the hospital, I rushed inside, my heart pounding as I approached the reception desk. “I’m here for Hlelolwenkosi Khumalo,” I said, my voice urgent.

“Please have a seat. I’ll notify the nurse,” the receptionist replied, her demeanor calm but distant. I could barely sit still, anxiety coursing through me as I paced the waiting area, my eyes darting around for any sign of her.

Finally, a nurse appeared, her expression serious. “Mr. Khumalo?”

“Yes, that’s me. How is she?” I asked, desperation creeping into my voice.

“Follow me,” she said, leading me down a long, sterile hallway. Each step felt heavier, a weight of dread settling on my shoulders. I needed to see Hlelo, to know she was okay.

We entered a small room, and my heart dropped at the sight before me. Hlelo lay in a hospital bed, pale and drenched in sweat, her face twisted in pain. Monitors beeped steadily around her, and I rushed to her side.

“Hlelo!” I exclaimed, taking her clammy hand in mine. “What happened? Are you alright?”

She opened her eyes slowly, and though she managed a weak smile, the fear in her gaze was unmistakable. “Sbani… I’m so scared.”

I felt my chest tighten. “You don’t have to be scared. I’m here with you. Just focus on getting better. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, tears glistening in her eyes. “It hurts so much. I thought it was just stress and fatigue.”

Before I could respond, a doctor entered the room, his expression serious yet reassuring. “Mr. Khumalo, I’m Dr. Mthembu. We’re currently evaluating Hlelo’s condition. She’s in labor.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Labor? What do you mean? How can she be in labor? She didn’t even know she was pregnant!”

“It’s not uncommon for someone to be unaware of a pregnancy until they experience complications,” Dr. Mthembu explained, his tone steady. “We need to act quickly to ensure her safety and the baby’s. We’re going to stabilize her and prepare for an emergency delivery.”

I turned back to Hlelo, my heart racing. “You’re going to be okay, right?” I asked, desperately needing to hear those words.

“I don’t know, Sbani,” she said, her voice shaking. “I didn’t even know this was happening. I didn’t want to let you down.”

“You could never let me down,” I said, squeezing her hand tighter. “We’ll get through this together. Just focus on what’s happening right now. You’re not alone in this.”

The room erupted in activity as nurses and doctors moved quickly to prepare for the delivery. I felt a mix of fear and helplessness as I watched Hlelo struggle against the pain. I wished I could take it all away, wished I could carry her burden for her.

“Push, Hlelo! You can do this!” a nurse urged, and I felt a surge of hope mixed with terror. I wanted to be her strength, to encourage her to fight through this.

With every scream and push, I could see the determination in her eyes, but also the exhaustion. “I can’t,” she gasped, tears streaming down her face. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Yes, you can!” I urged her, feeling my heart breaking for her. “You’re so strong. Just keep pushing, Hlelo. You’ve got this.”

The pain etched across her face was unbearable to witness, but I couldn’t give up hope. I needed her to fight for herself, for us.

And then, just like that, there was a moment of silence followed by the sound of a baby’s cries, piercing through the chaos of the room. I froze, my heart racing as I processed what had just happened.

“Hlelo, you did it!” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “You brought our baby into the world!”

But as the doctors whisked the tiny figure away to assess its condition, I felt the gravity of the moment wash over me. We had just entered a new chapter of our lives, one filled with uncertainty and overwhelming joy.

I turned back to Hlelo, tears streaming down my face. “You’re incredible,” I said, my voice trembling. “I’m so proud of you.”

She lay back against the pillows, her body trembling as she struggled to catch her breath. “I didn’t even know I was pregnant, Sbani. How could this happen?”

“I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out together,” I said, my voice steady. “You’re not alone in this. We’ll face everything that comes next together.”

As the realization settled in, I held her hand tightly, knowing that this was just the beginning of our journey into parenthood—together.