Chapter 127 CHAPTER 127
Miscarriage
The hospital corridor stretched long and sterile, smelling faintly of antiseptic and morning coffee. Nurses wheeled carts, murmuring to each other in clipped tones. The hum of fluorescent lights vibrated above the tiled floor, echoing against the hush of footsteps and distant monitors.
Ayisha walked quickly, her flats tapping the linoleum. She had come to deliver a file Tessa had asked for or so she thought but as soon as she entered the ward, a cold weight sat in her stomach. A nurse told her which room Tessa was in. “She’s resting,” the nurse added softly. “Try not to make her upset.”
Ayisha frowned. Upset? What had happened?
Her pulse picked up as she reached the door. She hesitated a moment, hand on the handle, listening. There was the faint beeping of a monitor inside, the rustle of sheets, the soft whisper of oxygen from a vent. She pushed the door open and stepped in quietly.
Tessa was lying on the bed, pale against the white sheets, one arm hooked with an IV line. Her hair spilled over the pillow, her face turned toward the window. The light coming through the half drawn blinds painted thin silver bars across her. For a second, Ayisha’s chest tightened — she really looked sick.
“Oh my God, Tessa,” Ayisha gasped, rushing toward her. “What happened?”
Tessa’s eyes opened slowly, as if dragging herself out of some deep, measured rest. She blinked, then turned her head. “Keep your voice down,” she whispered hoarsely.
Ayisha stopped short, frowning. “What’s wrong? The nurse said you—”
Before she could finish, the door opened. Two nurses entered, checking the monitors, adjusting the drip. One of them scribbled something on the chart at the end of the bed. The other murmured, “She needs rest, please don’t stress her.”
Ayisha nodded quickly, standing aside, her eyes darting between Tessa’s face and the machines. The nurses worked quietly for another minute before slipping out again. The door clicked shut. Silence returned.
Tessa exhaled, long and low, then turned her head toward Ayisha again. Her voice came out different this time, calm, alert, not weak at all. “Relax. I’m fine.”
Ayisha blinked. “What do you mean you’re fine?”
Tessa smiled faintly, pushing herself up on the bed, slow and deliberate. “I’m not sick. I’m pretending.”
Ayisha froze, mouth open. “You’re what?”
“Pretending,” Tessa repeated, adjusting the pillow behind her back. “A small… performance.” She gave a wry little smirk. “Hospitals are good for sympathy. People leave you alone, they ask fewer questions, and sometimes…” she shrugged lightly — “they make a man remember his priorities.”
Ayisha stared at her like she’d just confessed to robbing a bank. “You mean… you faked a whole hospital admission?”
“Not the admission,” Tessa said smoothly. “The condition.”
Ayisha’s mouth dropped open. Then she pressed her palm to her chest, the shock dissolving into a laugh she tried to suppress. “Tessa, are you serious right now? You had me rushing here thinking you were dying.”
Tessa chuckled softly. “A little death never hurt anyone’s reputation.”
Ayisha sat on the chair beside her, shaking her head in disbelief. “Girl, you’re crazy.”
“Desperate,” Tessa corrected, her tone cool but not defensive. “Ares hasn’t made love with me. He’s distracted, distant, caught between his mother’s illness and his father’s betrayal. And now now he was out clubbing with Chloe last night and got into an accident.”
“Chloe? Not possible. I saw Chloe this morning. She was home when I dropped the kids at school and headed here.”
Tessa’s eyes flickered with something like a blade of jealousy. “So it’s another woman? What is wrong with Ares?”
Ayisha leaned forward, whispering, “Maybe they were just…I don’t know.”
“Of course.” Tessa looked out the window. “He didn’t even call. Not a text. Nothing. Just silence. So yes, I might be faking a little health scare, maybe it’ll shake him enough to remember we have kids and we need to be a family.”
Ayisha couldn’t help laughing again, the sound bubbling up despite herself. “Girl, this is wild. You’re out here acting sick just to remind Ares you exist.”
Tessa arched an eyebrow. “It’s called strategy.”
“That’s manipulation and I love it!” Ayisha laughed.
“I learnt from the best,” Tessa replied dryly.
Ayisha fell silent, still grinning. She looked at the IV bag hanging beside the bed, then back at Tessa. “So… what are they even giving you? Water?”
“Saline,” Tessa said. “Just to look the part. You know nurses don’t ask questions if you act fragile enough. I told them I felt dizzy and lightheaded, besides I paid them to say on the reports it’s a miscarriage. It’s best I end the lie now, because he’s not even touching me, so how do I keep up?”
Ayisha clapped a hand over her mouth, laughing harder. “Oh my God, you actually planned it.”
“I didn’t plan it,” Tessa said, pretending to look offended. “It just… unfolded. The nurse assumed I was collapsing, I didn’t correct her, then paid them more to make it sweeter.”
“You’re insane.”
“Ares should be here, he’s busy clubbing and drunk driving with another woman while I am suffering here with his mother?”
They both laughed until their sides hurt, the sound filling the quiet hospital room. It wasn’t loud, but it was the kind of laughter that released something, nerves, exhaustion, tension that had been choking both women for days.
When it finally died down, Ayisha leaned back and sighed. “So what’s the next step in your little movie?”
Tessa tilted her head thoughtfully. “Well, the doctors say I need bed rest. Ares will hear I’ve been admitted. Maybe he’ll rush here. Maybe he won’t. But either way, people will start talking, and when they do, he’ll have to respond. You’d be surprised how quickly guilt can fix sile
nce.”
Ayisha nodded slowly, then smiled. “You really think this will work?”