CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
Alice paced frantically in the waiting room of the hospital, beating herself up for letting things get this bad. She should have informed Bewaji about the circumstances of her marriage a long time ago. She never should have tried to protect Kylian or Frances, and now Bewaji’s life was in danger. She was to be blamed for all of this.
“Alice!”
Alice looked up when she heard Beatrice’s voice and saw her standing in scrubs. One look into Beatrice’s sad face told her what she was about to say. The room suddenly felt heavy, silence stretching endlessly without words.
“I am sorry, Alice.”
“No…” Alice cried.
“We did everything, Alice, but her heart stopped before we got to the hospital. There was nothing we could do.”
“No… No… No…” Alice’s face twisted in anguish as she collapsed to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.
My eyes fluttered weakly before opening fully. I tried to move my neck, but it felt stiff. My whole body was heavy, but slowly, I felt my hand twitch. My eyes darted around the room without moving my neck, searching for familiarity — but found nothing. Then it came to me: the hushed room, the steady hum of the ventilator, the faint drip of the IV.
I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Seconds later, I managed to move my neck and spotted Alice, seated with slumped shoulders, staring at the ceiling. I had never seen Alice like this — miserable and in despair.
“Alice,” I whispered.
She looked at me, her eyes widening in shock as tears flooded them. Her lips trembled before a smile broke through, even as fresh tears rushed down her cheeks. She rushed to me and grabbed my hands.
“Thank you for coming back… thank you.” Then she hurried out.
What happened?
I was bleeding.
My hand moved to my belly. It was big… but not that big. My baby was no longer here. I can't feel my baby anymore
The door opened. Mama came in with Baba.
“Bewaji!” Mama cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I am so sorry.”
I looked at Baba, who stayed back by the door, guilt-struck.
Where is my baby? Something is wrong. I can feel it.
Soon, doctors and nurses trooped in, examining me and ignoring my desperate questions. Hours later, Alice and my parents were allowed back in.
“Alice, where is my baby? Did they perform the emergency C-section? Is my baby okay?” My questions went unanswered. Alice only stared back at me with despair. Utter despair.
What is happening?
I looked to my parents, hoping they would answer, but then two doctors entered, a middle-aged one and a younger one. Alice and my parents stood.
“The results are good. Her motor functions are back. This is better than we expected... far better.”
“Excuse me,” I cut in harshly. “Can someone tell me about my baby? I’ve been asking everyone, but nobody is answering. Where is my baby?” I yelled.
“Mrs. Bewaji Mbappe...”
“It is Bewaji Bendel. I never changed my name,” I corrected.
“Alright then, Ms. Bendel. You had a cardiac arrest and also suffered placental abruption, which was a result of your history with preeclampsia. It caused massive internal bleeding. Your heart stopped for ten minutes, and by the time we resuscitated you and performed the C-section… we couldn't get a heart beat, your baby had died. I am so sorry for your loss, ma’am.”
Silence fell. Suffocating. The air grew cold. My eyes widened, unblinking, staring at this messenger of doom in disbelief.
“No, no, no! That can’t be.” I challenged the doctor. “In movies, if a mother’s heart stops even for a minute, they deliver the baby immediately. Why would you wait until I was resuscitated?”
“The directive we were given was that you were the priority.”
“What? Who gave such a directive?”
“Your next of kin.”
“What? Kylian?”
“No. I did,” Alice said quietly. “I am your next of kin. You never changed it.”
“Why would you do that?”
“I thought you could have more babies. Believe me, I wish she was alive…” She burst into tears.
“Her? A daughter? I had a daughter?”
Had.
Did I just say had?
My baby is dead!
The words landed like a knife, cutting through me mercilessly. My lips parted, but no sound came out.
My baby was dead.
“Also…” The doctor began.
“Please, let her grieve her baby before you tell her the other news,” Alice pleaded.
“There is more bad news?” I asked. The doctor hesitated. “I want to know. There can’t be anything worse than this.”
“Please, Bewaji, yo—” Alice tried to reason with me.
“I don’t want to hear a word from you again,” I seethed. “This happened because you kept things from me!”
Her silence oozed guilt. That was cruel of me — but I didn’t care. My baby was dead.
“I am so sorry for what you’re going through…”
“Just go straight to the point.”
“During your heart attack, you went into severe shock. Together with the heavy bleeding from your placenta detaching too early, your uterus lost blood supply.”
What is she saying?
“I said go straight to the point!” I gritted, fearing where she was going. I wasn’t a doctor, but after 21 seasons of Grey’s Anatomy, 4 seasons of Chicago Med, 5 seasons of The Resident, 5 of New Amsterdam, and 5 of The Good Doctor, I knew what that meant.
When an organ loses blood supply… it decays
God please, no. Don't let it be what I am thinking
“We were so focused on stopping the hemorrhage that we didn’t notice the spike in your white blood cell count. When we did…”
“My womb was decaying. And you had to remove it to save my life. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”
They looked at me in surprise.
“We did everything we could. You were in a coma for over a week—”
“Get out.”
Mama rushed forward to console me. “Bewaji!” she cried, trying to hug me, but with every ounce of strength, I shoved her away.
“Get out!” I shouted. I stood up from the bed, dragging my mother from where she had fallen, but Baba pulled her away from me.
“Get out! I don’t want to see anyone! Get out!” I screamed, ripping the IV from my hand and lurching toward my parents. Pain shot through my arm. I glanced down to see the stitching tear. My vision blurred, but I could still make out the younger doctor stepping forward.
And then… darkness.
She looked so peaceful.... but that was probably because of the drugs. Would she ever smile at me again? Look at me with love again? Tell me her hopes and dreams again?
I held my wife’s hand. Sowarm.
Bewaji, I am so sorry.
This is the end of the second saga of The Chronicles of Bewa. We will continue with the third and final saga. The first few chapters will be told from Kylian Mbappe’s point of view
TO BE CONTINUED ON THE 7TH FEBRUARY, 2026
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