As the days slowly passed, Zaria's fragile body began to show signs of recovery. The wounds on her skin began to close up, and the swelling around her eyes and cheeks slowly faded. Her once pale face started to regain color, and she could sit up for longer hours without feeling dizzy. Though her physical strength returned little by little, her nights remained haunted by terrors that refused to leave her alone.
Every night, she would be jolted awake, her breath ragged and her body drenched in sweat. She would clutch the bedsheets, trembling, her eyes wide open in fear. The nurses who monitored her knew the signs—post-traumatic stress. It was a battle her body was beginning to win, but her soul was still fighting to survive.
Sally often stayed at the hospital late into the night, ensuring Zaria had everything she needed. Whenever Zaria screamed from a nightmare, it was Sally who rushed in first to soothe her. She would hold her tightly, whispering that it was over, that she was safe now. But in Zaria's world, safety still felt like a faraway dream.
One evening, as Sally sat beside Zaria reading a novel aloud—a routine she had grown used to—Dr. Kwizi Samuel walked in. He was an esteemed figure: a renowned doctor and businessman with multiple hospitals and companies under his name. But to Sally, he was more than just a success story; he was a trusted friend.
Kwizi stood by the door for a moment, observing the two. There was something touching in how Sally's voice brought calm to the disturbed girl lying in the hospital bed. He took a quiet breath and stepped inside.
"She's improving," he said softly, causing Sally to turn.
"Yes, slowly," Sally nodded, closing the book gently. "But the nightmares haven't stopped."
Kwizi glanced at Zaria, who had drifted into a peaceful sleep after the chapter ended. "The body heals faster than the mind. That will take time."
He walked to the window, peering into the evening sky. "Sally, we need to begin discussing logistics. You know the doctors in India are expecting her next month. We need to prepare for the trip."
"I've been thinking about that too," Sally responded. "I don't want to leave her alone. But with the situation at my office and home, I'm not sure I can go with her."
Kwizi turned to face her. "I can assign someone to go along—maybe a nurse she's comfortable with. The hospital staff here have been incredible."
Just then, a quiet knock came at the door. It was Nurse Angela, one of the young, gentle-hearted nurses who had been taking care of Zaria since she was admitted.
"Sorry to disturb," Angela said, her voice calm. "I just wanted to check if she's okay."
Sally smiled at her. "Come in, Angela."
As Angela stepped closer to the bed, she looked at Zaria tenderly. "She slept peacefully today. That novel really helped."
Kwizi observed the way Miriam's eyes softened when she looked at Zaria, and something clicked in his mind. He exchanged a glance with Sally, who gave a slight nod.
"Angela," he said, "have you thought about traveling?"
The question caught her off guard. "Traveling, sir?"
"Yes. Zaria will be flown to India for specialized treatment. Sally might not be able to accompany her. We were wondering who could take that responsibility."
Angela's eyes widened. She looked at Sally, then at Kwizi, and finally at the girl lying asleep in the bed.
"I... I would be honored," she said quietly, her voice almost trembling. "I've grown attached to her. I read to her every day when she's resting. I've even written her name on my prayer list. She deserves love and healing."
Sally smiled, touched by her sincerity. "You really care about her, don't you?"
"She reminds me of myself when I was young," Angela said, her voice cracking slightly. "I didn't have anyone to fight for me. I want her to know that someone cares."
Kwizi nodded approvingly. "Then it's settled. We'll begin the paperwork to arrange your travel and accommodation. You'll go as her medical escort and caretaker."
"Thank you, sir. Thank you so much," Angela said, her eyes glistening.
Later that night, after everyone had left, Zaria woke again, startled by another nightmare. She sat upright, breathing heavily, whispering, "Please... don't hurt me... please..."
Angela, who had been seated just outside the ward, rushed in and immediately sat beside her. She took Zaria's hand and gently wiped the sweat from her forehead.
"You're safe now, Zaria. You're safe," she whispered.
Zaria looked at her, confused and scared. "Why do they still come in my dreams?"
"Because they left scars, baby girl," Angela said softly. "But one day, those scars will become stories of how strong you are."
Zaria's lips trembled. "Will you stay with me?"
"Yes," Angela said, brushing the girl's hair gently. "Even when we go far away to India, I'll be with you. I promise."
Zaria blinked in surprise. "You're coming with me?"
"Yes, sweetie," she smiled. "I'll be the one holding your hand when the plane takes off, and I'll be the one reading you stories until you fall asleep."
For the first time in days, Zaria smiled faintly. She slowly lay back down, her hand still holding Angela's.
Outside the hospital window, the city lights glimmered like stars. Hope, fragile but real, was beginning to rise in Zaria's heart.
And as the wind whispered softly against the panes, it carried a promise—that this girl, once forgotten and broken, would now be protected by hearts that chose to love her without condition.