CHAPTER FIVE- The Match

Adrian's POV

I was standing next to my best friend, looking at the hospital bed.  I had spent several minutes staring at her sleep.

“So peaceful,” my friend said, bending nearer. “Do you think you are doing the right thing, Adrian? Perhaps... perhaps you need to reconsider this. Perhaps Amara is not your ex-girlfriend, after all.”

I shook my head firmly. “I know what I felt,” I said, and my voice did not tremble. "I'm sure. Look at her. This lying woman... she is the one who saved her. She is doing all she can for her. Probably, my woman is now experiencing memory loss, and it is only this woman who can assist. She is the only one who knows what to do, where she was, what has happened to her, and everything I need to know. It is she who can mentor this.”

My friend looked about the room fearfully. "Adrian, we should leave. We can't be here. Someone could see us. This is too risky."

I smiled slightly, shaking my head. "No. That's exactly what I want."

"What?" he asked, frowning.

“I wish somebody would see us,” I said to myself. "I want this to be noticed. Questions will only hasten the process in case one asks them. I must have my woman and her memory back. And I will do anything to get that on.”

He was about to say something in his defense when the door was opened. Two nurses then followed the doctor as he walked in. I looked around at them, with a little smile on my face, attempting to be cool.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” the doctor said, in a sharp but polite and final tone. “Who are you, and why are you  here?”

I went up to the stage with a calm, confident, and professional voice. “I am the boyfriend of Amara, I said without any fumbling. I came to see her mother since Amara is busy today, and I heard she needs a bone marrow transplant. I was interested in knowing whether I am a match and can contribute in any manner possible.”

The doctor's eyes narrowed. "I'm not sure I can allow that. Before anybody can deal with her or her medical records, we must have confirmation, whether it is Amara herself or Mrs. Hart herself.”

I didn't flinch. “No problem,” I said, drawing out my phone. "I'll call her now," I called her number severally but every time it would go directly to voicemail. The phone was turned off. I sighed a little, but maintained my self-control.

I thought fast, and showed him my wallpaper, a picture of me and Amara... technically, my ex, but the similarity was overwhelming. I showed it to the doctor. "This is us together," I said. "She's my girlfriend. You will see it is true later, but I am here to assist you. That's all."

The doctor examined the photograph, straining his eyes. He grumbled to himself and looked at the nurses. Finally, he looked at me. "...I'll test you," he said slowly. But the donation can only be passed with the confirmation of Mrs. Hart or Amara of your identity and connection to the family.

I nodded. "That's fair." I knew I could work with that. I had my purpose; I had to assist her mother, and in case it would bring Amara and me closer, it would be even better.

I was led by the nurse to the lab, with the sterile odor of antiseptic in my nose. We were surrounded by the buzzing of machines and the silent murmur of hospital employees. The nurse was preparing my arm, and I sat in the chair.

“You are all right,” she said, smiling. “The majority of the people are not so relaxed.”

I smirked. "I've handled worse." But my head was not peaceful. I remembered Amara--her hands, her voice, the manner in which she presented herself even when life was cruel. She did not know it, but I was going to see that her mother received the assistance she required. I was going to get my love back.

The sting with the needle was short, virtually insignificant when compared to the tempest of ideas in my mind. I looked at the lab as the nurse was drawing blood. It was all sterile, controlled, and efficient. Everything but my head, which was turning.

I turned to the doctor. How much will the bill for her treatment be? I would like to ensure that all is in readiness in case she requires the transplant.

The doctor shook his head. "I can't reveal that. It's confidential. You will need to enquire about Amara--she is your girlfriend, right?

“Yes,” I said, with a small smile on my lips. "I'll ask her."

We waited. Minutes dragged on to what seemed hours. I hardly realized that time had passed. I was thinking. What had happened to her? And how long had she been languishing in solitude before she had found her way here? And best of all... what would become of her when she finally knew that I was here, attempting to assist?

I would peep in at her mother through the glass and wonder at the calmness with which she was looking. The comparison between the disorder of the outside world and the calmness in this room was nearly inhuman. I felt so bad about Amara, her struggles, her pain, which she had borne with her heart and never told.

I was about to look at my phone once again when a nurse rushed in, her face was urgent and smiling.

Doctor, the test results are out. She said and looked at the doctor.

"What is it?" The physician enquired and fixed his spectacles.

“Mr. Adrian,” she said, is the perfect match for  Mrs. Hart. He could have given her his bone marrow and saved her life.”