I worry about you.

Today, my heart is strong. I drive to the florist to get a flower, and I think of you Dada, and to come see you and to come tell you this.

I wake early in the single bed I used to pretend was an ocean liner, and it's like someone dumped a bag of garri on me. My stomach growling. 'Hmm!" I groan as I try to sit upright.

"Ikanke?" My friend Marilyn calls my name. "Are you okay?" She asks.

"Take me to the hospital... take me please..." I say painfully.

She rushes over to the table by the bedside and carries my car keys.
I try to sit upright, but the pains are unbearable. I cry softly.

"When last did you see your menses?" She asks.

I groan again, I can't talk. It is as if the pains are rolling down my throat.
She tries to fix my flip-flop on my leg, I'm weak, and in pains--unbearable pains.

We manage to walk to the car. I am still in my night gown, still trying to understand why my stomach is aching this badly.

"You have ulcer." A fine black doctor in a simple jean and T-shirt says. From your accent, I know you are Nigerian, just like me.

When our eyes meet. I knew that this one is indeed the man I'd prayed for, twenty-three days ago at the mountains during the fast in Nigeria.

Prophet David had said when we see a man we like, we should declare and proclaim him to be ours, and that's exactly what happened in our case.

"She has been doing dry fasting for twenty-seven days now," Marilyn says and turns to me, " Ikanke, shebi I have warned you. I have been begging you to at least, do six hours fast. But you prefer doing more than fourteen hours," Marilyn says.

You hold my hands and feel my pulse, then you say, "She will be fine after a few prescriptions."

My heart rises. The God of the mountains of prayers sent my own husband to me, just few weeks to Valentine's day.

"You have to eat a lot and suspend your fasting for now," you say.

Of course, I'd paused my fasting already. What was there to fast and pray about again? You are here, by my side, and the sound of your voice and the way your gaze captures mine briefly before dropping to my lips make breathing difficult for me.

Marilyn has gone to bring me some clothes, and you're right by my side, feeding me with words I won't forget.

"You'll be well, but after this, make sure you eat a lot of food," you say.

I don't need food anymore, your face is enough for me. I want you to stand by my side and watch me as I sleep. It was as if you knew my mind, so you take a seat and sat by me.

"Will you like to take a stroll? It will help you to be better," you say. I nod slowly, if only you will hold my hands, so I may feel your touch and be mesmerized by it.

You hold me up on the bed as I sat, then you carry me out of the bed, I can perceive your scent, a strong perfume that I might have detested in the past, but I love it now because of you.

It is an utterly clouded night. The hospital is surrounded by water, located in a riverine area. Above the canyon walls the immense canopy of stars glimmered with a pristine beauty, the air so rarefied and clean that the milky way seems to be made of white gauze. I could almost reach out and touch it. As you stand here, hands still in the pocket of your jeans trouser, I feel a closeness to nature that steady me, and that makes me whole again.

Link: https://africanfictions.com/friday-before-valentine-chapter-2/