Chapter 4 The 50 50 Chance

The doctor's words echoed in my mind as I walked back to my seat, each step feeling heavier than the last. My heart ached, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I was no longer just a maid in a wealthy household, caught in the day-to-day grind of serving others; I was a witness to something far greater and darker than I had ever anticipated. The realization of how deep the world of Mr. Christopher truly ran hit me like a punch to the stomach. His family wasn't just rich; they were powerful, influential, and their reach stretched across far more than I could ever imagine. And then there was me-just a young girl from a humble background, with no one to call upon but herself. I was the epitome of an outsider in this world, and every inch of me felt it.

As my mind raced, the house manager's voice broke through my thoughts, snapping me back to the present.

"I've called the boss's family," he said in his usual emotionless tone. "They will be arriving in Nigeria early tomorrow morning. They've requested to see you as soon as they arrive."

I nodded slowly, my mind barely processing his words. I wasn't ready to meet Mr. Christopher's family. I hadn't even had the chance to fully understand the gravity of the situation, and now I was being thrust into something much bigger than I could handle. But it wasn't like I had a choice.

I felt numb as we made our way to Mr. Christopher's hospital room. The house manager walked ahead, his steps purposeful and steady, while I trailed behind, my legs unsteady and weak. I had no idea what to expect, but I certainly wasn't prepared for what I saw when we entered the room.

Mr. Christopher lay in the bed, a series of tubes and IV drips connected to his body, a heart monitor beeping steadily in the background. The sterile smell of the hospital mixed with the cold air in the room, but none of that could mask the overwhelming image of him lying there, helpless. The strong, commanding man I had seen only days ago-someone who had once filled a room with his presence-was now reduced to a fragile shell, clinging to life. The sight of him so vulnerable tore at my heart in ways I couldn't begin to describe. Tears welled up in my eyes, blurring my vision. The cold, sterile walls around me seemed to close in as I struggled to breathe, feeling the weight of the situation pressing on me from all sides.

I stood frozen, unable to tear my eyes away from him. My mind couldn't comprehend it. How could someone so full of life, so powerful, end up in this state? I couldn't stop the tears from flowing, the sadness overwhelming me. I didn't even know why I was crying-perhaps because I had grown attached to him in ways I couldn't admit to myself, or maybe because I was struck by the sheer unfairness of it all. Why should anyone have to endure such suffering? Why did life have to be this cruel?

Before I knew it, my sobs became uncontrollable. I felt the warmth of tears streaming down my cheeks, my chest tightening as if I couldn't take in enough air.

The house manager, who had been a figure of cold professionalism until now, seemed to soften for a brief moment. He stepped toward me, his hands awkwardly resting on my shoulders, trying to offer some form of comfort. But it was no use. The tears kept coming, unchecked and uncontrollable.

"Miss Joya," he said in a low voice, his tone strangely softer than I had ever heard it. "You need to compose yourself. We can't stay here."

His words barely registered as I wiped my face with the back of my hand, my body trembling. The nurse who had been quietly monitoring Mr. Christopher's condition approached, gently asking us to leave. Apparently, I had been crying for so long that it was affecting my own health. She said I needed to rest, that I couldn't continue this way.

With one last glance at Mr. Christopher, his face pale and drawn, I reluctantly turned and followed the house manager out of the room. The drive back to the mansion felt like a blur, the night air slipping past the window as I stared blankly out into the darkness. My mind was a chaotic mess of thoughts, racing between Mr. Christopher's condition, the shock of seeing him so fragile, and the looming arrival of his family.

I didn't hear the house manager when he called my name, not at first. My thoughts were too consumed by what had happened at the hospital. But after a while, his voice broke through the haze.

"Miss Joya," he repeated, his tone insistent this time.

"Y-yes?" I managed to respond, still lost in my own thoughts.

"We're here," he said simply, and I realized we had arrived back at the mansion. I stepped out of the car and walked numbly to my room, my feet dragging as if the weight of the world was pressing down on me.

I lay down on my bed, staring at the ceiling but seeing nothing. The room felt too quiet, too still. I wasn't hungry, I wasn't thirsty-nothing mattered. All I could think about was Mr. Christopher and the unknowns that lay ahead. Tomorrow, his family would be here, and I couldn't shake the fear that they would view me as nothing more than an insignificant pawn in their world. What was I to them? Just a maid who had somehow become intertwined with their son's life in ways I could never understand.

I closed my eyes, hoping to find some peace, but it was impossible. The thought of facing his family, especially in such a fragile moment, terrified me. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to force sleep to come, but it eluded me.

I couldn't escape the fact that everything was changing-my life, my place in this house, and my feelings for Mr. Christopher.

I had no idea what tomorrow would bring, but I knew one thing for sure: nothing would ever be the same again.

This expanded version adds depth to Joya's internal conflict and the emotional weight of the situation, emphasizing her growing attachment to Mr. Christopher and the uncertainty of what's to come.