Unbroken bonds

4: Price of Survival

Halima had been in the hospital for three long days, and Inaya felt as if she were losing her grip on reality. Each day dragged on, heavy with worry and uncertainty. As she sat in the stark, sterile waiting room, her mind raced with thoughts of the hospital bills. Would they be manageable, or would they crush her under their weight?

Today, she and Maman Jamila decided to confront those fears head-on. They were seated in the doctor's office, the air thick with tension. Inaya's heart pounded in her chest, each beat a reminder of her precarious situation.

"Doctor, we came to ask how much we need to pay," Inaya said, her voice trembling slightly. She clenched her hands in her lap, hoping to quell the anxiety coursing through her.

The doctor, his eyes peering over the rim of his glasses, finished scribbling notes in a file before looking up. "You don't need to pay for the hospital. It has already been taken care of."

"Huh?" Inaya's eyes widened, disbelief overtaking her.

Maman Jamila, equally stunned, leaned forward. "Who paid the bills?"

The doctor's expression softened. "Today is your lucky day. There's a man who makes donations to the hospital to assist those who cannot afford their fees. He comes once or twice a month."

Inaya felt a wave of relief wash over her, tinged with curiosity. "So, I don't need to pay anything?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper, fearing the answer might change.

The doctor nodded. "Yes."

"Can I please know who this person is? His name or anything about him?" Inaya's heart swelled with gratitude, the burden of her worries momentarily lifted. Allah had sent a guardian in her time of need, and she longed to know the man who had saved her.

"Sorry, I don't know him. He prefers to remain anonymous," the doctor replied apologetically.

"Ah! Well, may Allah bless him," Inaya said softly, her heart full. She wished she could thank him directly, to express her gratitude to the man who had shown her such kindness.

After the doctor wrote out Halima's medication, he assured them they could go home once the IV drip was done.

"Inaya, you are so lucky!" Maman Jamila exclaimed as they exited the office, a wide smile breaking across her face.

"Wallahi, Maman Jamila, it felt like I had been lifted into paradise! No wonder they treated Halima without asking for payment," Inaya said, relief flooding through her.

They quickly made their way to Halima's room. As they entered, Inaya's heart twisted at the sight of her daughter, still pale but breathing steadily. The IV beeped softly, counting down the minutes until they could leave.

"Umma, are we going home today?" Halima's voice was weak but filled with hope.

Inaya rushed to her side, placing her hands on Halima's cheeks, her heart aching with love. "Yes, darling. We're going home soon."

A nurse nearby smiled as she adjusted Halima's IV. "Gaskiya, sis, you don't look like someone who has given birth to a child like this. You look very young! I wish I could have your body," she teased lightly.

Inaya couldn't help but smile, the compliment a welcome reprieve from her worries. Many people often mistook Halima for her sister. At just 25, Inaya was still youthful. "Thank you, nurse," she replied, genuine gratitude in her voice.

As Halima's eyes sparkled with relief, Inaya felt a rush of warmth. They would make it through this—together. With each passing moment, the bond between them grew

***

It had been two hours since they arrived home, and the silence in the house felt heavy, interrupted only by the occasional clinking from the kitchen where Maman Jamila cooked. When she finally brought out the food, Inaya couldn't remember the last time she had felt so relieved. She watched Halima eat, her eyes never leaving her daughter, looking for any sign of discomfort, any hint of weakness. After lunch, Halima went to lie down, her face pale and drawn, making Inaya's heart clench with worry.