Chapter 7: "Amara... is that You?"

“Deranged husband?” Alex repeated, his lips curling into a bitter scoff. “I’m not here for you, Adaobi. Go and get me my wife right now. This trick stops here, right now!”

Adaobi let out a laugh that carried no joy, only pain. Her eyes glistened but her lips remained hard. “Did you just say your wife?” she asked, shaking her head before another sad laugh slipped out.

Alex clenched his jaw and refused to answer. He knew where she was heading, but his pride stopped him from admitting it.

Adaobi’s voice sharpened as she stepped closer.

“While she was battling with brain cancer, she came to you at the hospital. Do you remember? What did you do? You shunned her and sent her away. What kind of doctor sees his own wife sick and doesn’t give a damn? What kind of husband treats his wife like trash?”

Her tone cracked slightly but her eyes never left him. “Now she’s gone, and you show up here looking like a mad man, obviously regretting your actions, demanding to see her?”

Her words pierced through Alex’s chest. His breath hitched. He staggered slightly as if someone had slapped him across the face.

That word - Brain cancer. Again.

This was the fourth time he had heard it since Amara walked out of his house, but it hit differently from Adaobi’s lips.

His eyes reddened, swelling with tears that threatened to spill. His mind drifted unwillingly back to that day. The nurse had walked into his office with Amara, pleading with urgency in her tone.

Her words echoed now in his head: "Doctor, please, her condition is critical, you need to check this immediately."

But what did he do? He barely looked at Amara. He waved the nurse away like she was some pest, dismissing her with the arrogance of a man who thought his time was more valuable than human life.

He had told them if he started granting patients special treatment because of excuses, he’d never finish his work.

Without remorse, he had told Amara, his own wife, to go and join the queue like everyone else.

He didn't know his wife was fighting a deadly illness. Well, how could he have known when his wife's presence irritated him? When he couldn't give her the listening ear when she called to brief him on what the medical report?

The memory cut deep, raw and merciless. He regretted not even glancing at that medical report that day. Not even once.

“Listen,” Adaobi’s firm voice yanked him out of his torment. Her arms folded across her chest, her tone laced with venom. “I don’t see anything good from your presence here. So I think we’re done. Have a good day, Dr. Spencer.”

She turned to leave, her black gown swaying behind her.

But Alex wasn’t done.

The tears he had been holding back finally broke free. They streamed down his face, hot and relentless. He clenched his fists, rage and grief twisting together.

He kicked at the flower stands beside him.

The carefully arranged roses scattered, petals flying across the floor. His leg struck another, sending the vase crashing into pieces.

“Alex!” James grabbed his arm in alarm.

But Alex shoved him violently away, his eyes wild. “Stay out of this!”

Adaobi spun back, her eyes wide in shock. “Are you insane? This is a funeral ground!”

“A funeral?” Alex bellowed, his chest heaving. “What kind of funeral is this without the presence of family and friends? Where are they? Where is everybody? Don’t fool me with these games!”

He pointed furiously at the empty hall. “This is nonsense!”

His tears flowed freely now, his voice breaking as he shouted again, “Amara! Come out! Enough of this punishment. Please, come out!”

Adaobi’s face tightened, her hands shaking though she tried to keep them steady. “If you continue like this, Alex, I swear I will call the security back to drag you out. Don’t tempt me.”

But Alex only laughed bitterly, shaking his head. He turned sharply, his eyes fixed on the coffin by the altar.

“No,” he whispered, stepping forward. “No one fools me this way. Not Amara.”

Ignoring Adaobi’s gasp, he reached the coffin. His trembling hands gripped the edges, and with a sudden push, he flung it open.

For a second, silence swallowed the room. Alex froze, staring inside. His eyes widened. Then, unexpectedly, he burst into laughter.

It was loud, broken, unsteady, but laughter all the same.

“See?” he shouted, pointing with a shaky finger into the coffin.

He turned to James, his laughter echoing against the walls. “I told you! I told you this was all a lie. Amara is alive! She’s just punishing me, that’s all. She wants me to feel pain the way she felt it!”

James’s face twisted in confusion, while Adaobi flinched hard, her earlier strength faltering.

Her lips trembled but she said nothing.

Alex’s laughter died abruptly, his face snapping back into raw anger. His eyes locked fiercely on Adaobi. “Where is she?” he roared, his voice breaking the air. “Where is my wife?”

“Alex—” James tried, but Alex silenced him with a glare. His mission here must be accomplished, and he wouldn't allow anyone dare to stand in his way.

“Where is she!” he screamed again, his whole body shaking, spit flying with his words.

The room went heavy, tense, until suddenly a voice came from the corner.

“Miss Akwarandu.”

All eyes turned sharply to the direction of the voice. A figure was approaching slowly, steps echoing in the silence.

Alex’s breath caught in his throat.

His eyebrows furrowed, his chest tightening as his voice came out weak but desperate.

“Amara… is that you?”