A Borrowed Forever

Chapter Five

“Her name is Elena Hart.”

Rachel stepped into Damien’s office carrying a slim charcoal folder and placed it neatly on his desk before stepping back. “You asked for a background report on the patient from Ward 412.”

Damien closed the document he’d been reviewing and reached for the file. The report was concise. A recent photograph was clipped to the inside cover, followed by a summary of everything his security team had managed to verify overnight.

Name: Elena Hart.  

Age: Twenty-four.  

Occupation: Waitress.  

Residence: Al Noor District.  

Immediate family: Camila Hart — mother.

He turned the page.

Camila Hart had been admitted to St. Mary’s Hospital three weeks earlier, diagnosed with end-stage renal disease and awaiting a kidney transplant. Elena had volunteered as a donor and had already completed the preliminary compatibility tests. His eyes settled on the final paragraph.

"The procedure has been delayed due to outstanding medical expenses. Hospital records indicate the family is unable to finance the transplant." 

He read the sentence again before closing the file. “Anything else?”

Rachel shook her head. “Nothing of significance, sir.”

He rested a hand on the folder without looking up. “Thank you.”

Rachel gathered her tablet and left. Damien reached for the next file, opened it, and read the first paragraph without absorbing a single word. He closed it again with a quiet sigh, stood, and walked to the window. The city carried on below him, indifferent as ever.

After a moment he returned to his desk and pressed the intercom. “Rachel.”

“Yes, Mr. Ashbourne?”

Damien opened Elena’s file again. His eyes moved over the figures at the bottom of the page. “How much is Miss Elena Hart’s outstanding bill?”

Rachel gave him the amount. He was silent for a moment. “Settle it.”

“I’ll arrange it immediately.”

“Not through the Foundation.”

Rachel hesitated. “A private donation?”

“Yes.”

“And the donor’s name?”

“Anonymous.”

She gave a small nod. “I’ll make the arrangements.” The office fell quiet after the call ended. Damien reached for the next file, opened it, and read the first line twice before closing it again. His hand drifted toward Elena’s folder but stopped short of touching it.

---

Elena had barely reached the fourth floor when a nurse caught up with her. “Miss Hart?”

Elena turned. “The transplant administrator would like to see you.”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face. She couldn’t imagine why. Their last conversation had ended with an apology and no clear answers. “Did he say what it was about?”

The nurse smiled politely. “No. He only asked that I bring you as soon as you arrived.”

Elena thanked her and followed the familiar corridor toward the coordinator’s office. The administrator rose from his chair as she stepped inside. She recognised him immediately—the same man who had apologised the previous afternoon when her application couldn’t be accepted.

“Miss Hart,” he said with a polite smile. “Thank you for coming.”

She remained standing. “If this is about yesterday, I didn’t mean to make things difficult for anyone.”

“It isn’t.” He gestured toward the chair opposite his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Elena sat, still unsure why she’d been called in. The administrator opened a file and slid a printed statement across the desk. “I’ve worked at St. Mary’s for almost twelve years,” he said. “In all that time, I don’t think I’ve seen anything quite like this.”

She frowned. “Like what?”

“Your mother’s account was settled this morning.”

For a moment she simply stared at him. “I’m sorry… what?”

“The balance has been paid in full.”

She looked down at the document, scanning the figures as if they belonged to someone else. “There must be a mistake.”

“There isn’t.”

“But I haven’t paid anything.”

“I know.”

Her eyes returned to the statement. Every outstanding charge had been cleared. She looked back at him, searching for an explanation that made sense. “Who paid it?”

“The donor asked to remain anonymous.”

“Anonymous?”

He nodded. “I asked whether there was a name I could give the family. There wasn’t. The only instruction we received was to clear the account.”

Elena let out a quiet breath. “I don’t know anyone who could do something like this.”

“Neither do I,” the administrator admitted. “Whoever they are, they wanted nothing in return.”

She ran her finger down the list of charges, stopping when she reached the final figure.  

Balance: ₦0.00

She looked at it again. “You’re sure this is my mother’s account?”

“I’m sure.”

Her fingers tightened around the paper. “I don’t even know how to thank them.”

The administrator smiled. “Perhaps knowing your mother can have the surgery is thanks enough.”

----

Camila was sitting up in bed when Elena returned to the room. She looked up from the book resting on her lap and immediately noticed the expression on her daughter’s face. “What happened?”

Elena crossed the room and handed her the statement without a word. Camila adjusted her glasses and began to read. A few seconds later she looked up. “They’ve paid for everything?”

Elena nodded. “I still don’t know who.”

Camila read the page once more before folding it carefully. “They didn’t leave a name?”

“No.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Just that they wanted to remain anonymous.”

Camila rested the paper on the blanket and looked toward the window. “I’ve been praying for weeks,” she said quietly. “Every night I asked God to make a way, even when I couldn’t see one.” She smiled through the tears gathering in her eyes. “I suppose sometimes the answer comes through people we’ll never meet.”

Elena smiled, though the question still lingered. “I wish I knew who they were.”

“So do I.”

A comfortable silence settled between them before Elena reached for her phone. “I should tell Ethan.” She scrolled to his name. He had been the first person she wanted to tell. The call rang until it redirected to voicemail. She pulled the phone away, stared at the screen for a second, then tried again. This time she listened all the way through, hoping he would answer at the last moment. He didn’t.

She frowned. “That’s strange.”

Camila looked up. “No answer?”

Elena shook her head. “He’s usually the first to pick up when I call.” She tried to smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “He’s probably tied up with work.” Camila nodded, but Elena found herself looking at the dark screen a moment longer before slipping the phone back into her bag.

---

“There,” the bridal stylist said with a satisfied smile. “Go and see for yourself.” She circled Elena one last time, smoothing a crease near the waist before stepping back. “I think we’re done.” She turned Elena gently toward the full-length mirror.

Elena lifted her eyes. For a few seconds she simply took herself in, then turned slowly, watching the gown settle around her ankles. Her fingers moved over the fabric at her waist. “Oh,” she whispered.

A smile spread across her face before she could stop it. The gown was everything she’d hoped it would be. The fitted bodice sat neatly against her frame while the skirt flowed softly to the floor with every small movement. It was elegant without trying too hard, and for the first time in weeks she smiled without thinking about hospital corridors, overdue bills, or transplant forms.

“I can’t believe this is actually my dress,” she said, almost to herself.

Mia’s face lit up. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

Elena laughed. “You’ve been waiting for me to cry.”

“I give it another five minutes.”

“I am not crying.”

“We’ll see.”

Across the room, Ethan looked up from his phone. For a moment he simply stared at her. Then his mouth curved into a smile. “You look beautiful.”

Elena met his gaze in the mirror and felt her cheeks warm. “Thank you.”

His phone vibrated again. He glanced at the screen, slipped it into his hand, and headed for the door without breaking the easy rhythm of the afternoon. “I’ll be back.” The glass door eased shut behind him.

The bridal stylist crouched to make one final adjustment to the hem while Elena remained on the platform. “Almost finished,” she said. “Just stay still.”

Mia crossed to the front of the boutique, where a display of veils caught her attention. She lifted one absent-mindedly, letting the delicate fabric run through her fingers as she looked out onto the street. Ethan stood a short distance away with the phone to his ear. The traffic muffled most of his conversation.

“…No, don’t wake her.” He listened for a moment. “Just tell her I’ll be home tonight.” Another pause. “I know.” His voice softened. “I heard she cried herself to sleep.”

A delivery van rolled past, swallowing whatever he said next.

The bridal stylist stood and smiled at Elena. “There, now we’re really finished.”

Elena turned slowly in front of the mirror, unable to hide the smile spreading across her face. “What do you think?”

“I think,” Mia said, looking back at her friend, “that Ethan is going to forget how to breathe when he sees you walking down the aisle.”

Elena laughed. “I think you’re exaggerating.”

“I wish I was.”

The door opened behind them. Ethan slipped his phone back into his pocket and walked over as though he’d never left. “So,” he said, looking at Elena with an approving smile, “is this the one?”

She turned toward him. “It is.”

He nodded once. “Then I don’t think you could’ve chosen better.”

Elena turned back toward the mirror, still smiling. “I still can’t believe I’m getting married.”

Mia laughed. “You’d better believe it. I’ve been hearing about this wedding for months.”

Elena glanced at Ethan through the mirror. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Are you nervous?”

He stepped closer, looking at her reflection. “Not about marrying you.”

Her smile softened. “Good answer.”

He reached for her hand, his fingers closing gently around hers. “You know I’d do anything for you, right?”

Elena looked down at their joined hands. “I know.”

“And you’re sure?”

She looked up at him. “Ethan, what’s with all the questions?”

He smiled, but something about it seemed strained. “Nothing. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

Elena shook her head, amused. “You’re strange.”

“Probably.”

She laughed and rested her head briefly against his shoulder. Then his phone vibrated. Ethan glanced down, turned the screen away, and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Mia noticed.

“Elena,” the stylist called from behind them. “I need you to try the veil.”

Elena released Ethan’s hand and turned toward her. “Coming.”

She took two steps before Ethan’s phone vibrated again. He pulled it out. One message.

He read it,His jaw tightened.

"You promised me the same thing." 

He locked the screen immediately, then looked up at Elena.

She was smiling at herself in the mirror, completely unaware.