Since I Met You

Friday, March 12, 7:30 p.m.

It was a chilly night. Everything happened so quickly; that was the only thing Mahir could remember. The moment between balance loss and impact was one thing Mahir would be wincing about for weeks to come reliving that precious second before his left arm snapped in two and tore right through his skin, glinting white in the wintry moon. The pain and excess loss of blood had brought him to the point of blanking out, which was easier for him – to pass out rather than stay awake and wince in so much pain and dizziness.

Mahir was laid on the stretcher, rushed to the nearest hospital, and taken to the ER. The doctors circled him, doing the best they could to save him. But Mahir had lost so much blood that he needed more without delay, except his parents were far away from coming. And in the blood bank, there was no match for Mahir.

Mahir was between life and death, and no sign of his blood match or a donor close by.

“We can lose Mr. Dan-Musa if we don’t get his match quickly. And we don’t have any donors at the moment.” The doctor was frustrated. He rubbed his tired eyes with his index finger and thumb, reasoning how the Dan-Musa family would react if they lost their only heir.

“I’m willing to donate. What’s his blood group? It might be the same with mine.”

The doctors shifted their eyes to the young lady standing inches away from them. “We have to check if your blood matches with his and your health…”

“So? What are you waiting for? I heard you said it’s an emergency,” she cut in. He briskly nodded and led the way to their lab.

After a short period of time, running tests, she was a match, and she donated enough blood that would help Mahir regain his life. And before his parents had arrived, she had already left after she was sure Mahir was going to be fine, though she had not seen him or knew who he was. She only did it to help him, cause who knows, one day, she might be in that kind of situation.

Mahir Adam Dan-Musa was the only child of Adam Sani Dan-Musa, who owned Dan-Musa Global Trust and other companies, not just in Abuja but also abroad. Mahir was born and raised in London and New York before they relocated to Abuja, Nigeria. He knew nothing but luxury. Nevertheless, that never bothered him, nor the fact that his father was in the top 10 richest men with so many successful businesses.

Mahir always loved to keep things basic and modest, but he could never hide the fact that he was famously known as the Chief Operating Officer of one of his father’s companies in Abuja and would soon be the Chief Executive Officer when his father retired, which was approaching soon.

He had the kind of face that stopped you in your tracks. Not that he actually cared about his looks, but he knew he was good-looking, and it was difficult for him to actually find a decent girl that would love his grumpy, arrogant side, not just his beautiful face and the number of digits in his account. He was bossy without even thinking about it. His second nature was being domineering.

Despite the fact that Mahir never actually made the plan to have a woman in his life, he still tried to find one for the sake of his family, who had been on his neck to get married before his father retired. He grew up with the belief that a woman was just a burden, a distraction to a man’s life. However, he admired his parents’ relationship. They loved each other like they were the last people in the world, but that didn’t change the fact that he still despised the word ‘love,’ let alone trying it.

He could feel it… the warm hand on his forehead… It was so good to feel loved, even though he wasn’t going to return the favor. It felt good to be cared for, but then… he woke up as if it was an emergency, as if sleeping had become a dangerous thing to do. His heart beat fast, and there was a buzzing in his brain. He scanned the room as a sharp pain hammered into his broken left arm, the strikes radiating pain in a way that shattered his brain – or at least that’s what he felt.

“Mahir, it’s okay. You’re in the hospital. You had an accident, but you’re okay; you’re going to be fine,” his mother soothed, gently stroking his head. “I’m here with you. Your father is also here, and we won’t leave your side till we’re sure you’re fine, okay?”

He lay so still, breathing shallowly, staring at the woman he could confess that he loved. He averted his gaze to look at his father. They all looked worried and concerned about their son’s condition.

“The doctor is on his way,” his mother, Hajiya Aisha, informed him.

“How… how long was I out?” His voice was barely audible.

Hajiya Aisha looked at her husband before returning her eyes back to Mahir.

“About 8-9 hours. But you’re fine now, and you will be out of this place in no time.”

She knew how Mahir hated the hospital. He despised going to the hospital. No matter what, he’d rather call their family doctor to come to check him up at home than be in that smelly, boring building, despite the fact that it was the most expensive hospital in the whole city.

The doctor walked in, in green scrubs, her black hair tied low in a ponytail. Mahir shifted his head more to get a better look at her. She was Indian-looking with large brown eyes neatly lined in black. She had the lithe movement of an athlete and the easy smile of one visiting a dear friend. She spoke with an Indian accent and with her hands. With each word, the fine fingers would flourish into the stagnant hospital air like birds, then settle as she listened to the answers Mahir gave her like she had all the time in the world, and nothing could interest her more than what he had to say.

After doing some thorough check-ups, the doctor left. Mahir stared at her retreating back till she closed the door behind her. Younger than he expected, but somehow he didn’t mind anymore.

“We couldn’t be more grateful for that lady’s generosity. She really did save our son’s life, didn’t she, Alhaji?” Hajiya Aisha smiled at her husband, and he nodded in agreement.

“What girl? You mean the funny, young-looking doctor?” Mahir asked because he couldn’t wrap a finger around how that petite doctor was of help. She only asked him dozens of questions and did some check-ups.

“No, silly, the girl that donated blood to you. You lost a lot of blood, and some kindhearted lady donated. I just wish we could get the chance to thank her.” A gigantic grin spread across Hajiya Aisha’s face, and her eyes lit up like the sky of the 4th of July.

“Where’s she?” he asked, but his mother was unable to answer. They were so overwhelmed that they didn’t care to get the full details about the donor.

“I… We didn’t exactly get her information, and because it was an emergency, the doctors were so perturbed about you that they didn’t quite get her details. But they say she comes in very often and donates blood to whoever needs it. Now, enough of that. You need to eat something and get more sleep. What would you like to eat – chicken soup, some hot cocoa, or seafood? Atika specially made it for you.”

He stared at his mother’s every move, absent-minded. He watched attentively as she served him some soup and made some tea for him.

“Open up now. You don’t have to eat much; you just have to eat something, okay?” she said softly. With a loving expression, she fed her son till he turned his head away, indicating being fed enough.

He couldn’t prevent himself from thinking about the girl who saved him, despite the fact that he didn’t know what she even looked like. Tall? Short? Light-skinned? Dark-skinned? Beautiful? Ugly? Presentable? Mahir kept pondering over her appearance.

Why did she offer to help him – he wondered. Possibly because he was the son of one of the famous, rich men? Or because she wanted something in return? She couldn’t just do it without reason, right? She must want something from him – he was sure of that.

He couldn’t set his mind straight that this mysterious girl did it for free – it couldn’t be. They were all gold diggers – he mused to himself. All they wanted was money and bragging about being married to a rich or handsome man. They always wanted something. And he was going to find out what she wanted in particular.

The next day, Mahir was on his bed, having a thought, when one of the doctors sauntered in. Hajiya Aisha excused herself after they exchanged pleasantries to give them some space.

“How are you feeling? I came here a couple of times last night, but you were asleep, and my shift was over…”

“Do you… happen to know the girl that donated blood to me?” he cut in. He had been fervent to ask his friend the question.

“Uh… I don’t really know, but she comes here sometimes to donate, and she prefers her identity not be disclosed,” he explained, and Mahir nodded his head.

“How do I get her details then?” he asked.

Dr. Mansur stood with a brow raised. Mahir raised the curiosity in his mind.

“I… I just want to thank her for helping me. She saved my life, you know.”

Mansur looked at him over his half-glasses. “Get some rest, Mahir. I’ll come to check up on you later.”