Replica: Crazy Versus Smart (Nigerian Story)

Chapter 49: The Family Stranger

Kanye looked up as Michael slid into the car, alone. Cryst had left earlier, and now the two of them sat in the dim interior, a heavy silence filling the space.

“What did the doctor say about Susanne?” Kanye asked, his voice laced with concern as he leaned closer to the passanger’s seat to read his boss's expression.

Michael sighed. “Temporary amnesia,” he replied, a weary resignation in his tone. “The doctor said it’s a defense mechanism—her mind’s way of protecting itself.”

Kanye’s eyebrows furrowed, skepticism shadowing his face. “But… do you believe her?” he asked, an edge creeping into his voice. “Susanne isn’t one to act helpless. What if she’s putting this on to get your attention, especially now with the president staying at your place?”

Michael gave a shrug, his face tightening with exhaustion. “Who knows? But that’s what the doctor said.”

Kanye let out a scoff. “I underestimated her. This could be her plan to keep you distracted from work. You’ve missed two critical days already. She knows how important these meetings are.”

Michael sighed again, his fatigue evident. “Let’s just see how it goes, Kanye. I’m tired of guessing.”

They drove in silence until Michael gestured toward the building in front of them. “Drop me off here. I’ve got a proposal to finish before midnight. Don’t bother waiting for me—just go home.”

Kanye gave him a lingering look. “Boss, I know you don’t pay me for anything outside office hours, but I’d prefer to stay and help. Just in case.”

“Go home, Kanye,” Michael replied, his voice soft yet firm. “I need to be alone tonight.”

With a reluctant nod, Kanye wished him a good night and watched as Michael entered the building, shoulders weighed down with invisible burdens.

---

At five a.m., a loud, steady beep cut through the quiet of the hospital room, waking Grace. She rubbed her temples, feeling the dull ache of exhaustion as she blinked at the city lights reflecting through the large window. Kneeling on her bed, she stared outside, wondering why Susanne hadn’t shown up as planned. Today was supposed to be the day they swapped identities—Susanne had assured her. But instead, here she was, still alone, waiting in the shadows of a plan that was becoming less certain by the minute.

Meanwhile, Michael was at his desk, going through the motions but unable to shake the confusion in Grace’s eyes when she’d first seen him in the hospital. Her look of absolute bewilderment had felt almost too real, like a knife twisting in his chest. He needed answers. He finished tidying his workspace, showered, and headed back to the hospital.

Upon reaching the ward, his heart sank. Grace’s bed was empty.

“Ma,” he whispered, gently shaking Musimbi asleep in the chair beside her. She stirred, blinking up at him with bleary eyes.

“Where’s Susanne?” he asked, his voice tense.

“She’s supposed to be here—”

Musimbi glanced toward the bed, realizing with a jolt that it was, indeed, empty. Together, they quickly alerted the hospital staff, checking the nearby hallways, bathrooms, and quiet nooks where patients sometimes wandered in confusion.

Just as he was about to notify security, Michael spotted a figure sitting alone by the entrance door. His heart pounded as he recognized Grace, still in her pajamas, her head wrapped in bandages, looking small and lost in the sterile hospital light.

“Susanne?” He approached her cautiously, his voice softened by the gentle warmth of relief. Her eyes widened as he drew closer, but her gaze remained wary.

“Why are you sitting here alone?” he asked, his hand reaching out instinctively. “You could have called someone.”

Grace looked away, her jaw tight. “I told you already—I don’t know who you are,” she murmured, her words colder than the morning air.

Michael knelt in front of her, a plea in his eyes. “Susanne, please. Let’s just talk.”

She hesitated, but there was something so patient in his voice, something that tugged at her resolve. Against her better judgment, she followed him to a nearby bench under a tree, the hospital grounds quiet in the early dawn light.

He draped his jacket around her shoulders, noticing her shiver. She sat stiffly, her eyes fixed on the ground, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Why are you still insisting we’re strangers?” he asked after a long silence. “You’ve seen our marriage certificate. You know the truth.”

Grace let out a derisive snort. “Maybe I saw it, but that doesn’t make you any less of a stranger to me.”

Michael managed a sad smile, looking down. “I had a dream last night that an angel told me this was all an act.”

“An act?” She turned to him, incredulous. “Why would I go through all this? I mean, why would I act just to be here?”

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug, a helplessness coloring his tone. “Maybe… to keep me close while you figure things out?”

Grace shook her head, her gaze hardening. “I’m not, Michael. Whatever woman you think I am, I’m not her. I don’t remember you, and I have no intention of following you around like a puppet.”

Her words pierced his heart, but he tried not to show it. Instead, he leaned back, forcing a smile. “Alright. You don’t want to come home yet. I understand.”

Grace glanced at him warily, as if expecting a trap.

“But I do need you to call your father,” he said softly. “The man can’t sleep. He’s worried out of his mind, thinking you’re alone here, suffering.”

“Why should I? He's your dad, not mine.” she retorted, but the flicker of doubt in her eyes betrayed her.

“Because he’s family,” Michael replied, a tinge of desperation in his voice. “Because… he deserves to hear from you.”

She stared at him for a long moment, the wall of defiance around her finally cracking. Then, without a word, she got up, stepping back into the hospital.

Michael watched her go, a weary, bittersweet smile forming on his lips. For now, he’d given her the space she wanted. But he knew this was only the beginning of a battle he wasn’t sure he could win.