The faint glow of moonlight lit up Mmabatho's bedroom as she stirred awake. At first, she thought it was just the usual discomfort of pregnancyâthe tossing and turningâbut when she pulled the sheets back to get up, she froze.
There was blood.
Her heart dropped, and panic took over. She couldn't even think straight as her hands fumbled for her phone on the nightstand. Dialing Sandile's number, she barely registered the fact that it was past 1 AM.
"Mmabatho?" His voice sounded groggy but alert.
"Sandile," she said, her voice trembling. "IâI need you to come get me. Please. There's blood, and I don't know what's happening."
"Stay where you are," he said firmly. "I'm on my way. Just try to stay calm."
Hanging up, she forced herself to move. Her body felt heavy as she changed out of her bloodied nightdress and stepped into the shower. The warm water hit her skin, but it didn't ease the chill that had taken over her. She was terrified.
By the time she pulled on a pair of grey sweats and an oversized hoodie, she heard the sound of a key turning in the lock. Sandile rushed in, his face a mix of worry and determination.
"Let's go," he said, gently wrapping an arm around her waist and helping her to the car.
The ride to the hospital was quiet except for the occasional sniffle from Mmabatho. Sandile glanced at her every so often, gripping the steering wheel like it was the only thing keeping him steady.
When they arrived at the emergency room, Sandile didn't waste time. "She's six months pregnant and bleeding," he told the nurse at the desk.
Within minutes, Mmabatho was ushered into a room. A doctor came in, asking questions and running a quick assessment before ordering blood tests and an ultrasound.
Sandile stayed by her side the entire time, his presence grounding her even though she could see the worry etched into his face.
After what felt like hours of waiting, the doctor returned with the results.
"Ms. Phiri, we've determined that you have a condition called placenta previa," she said gently, pulling up a chair next to Mmabatho's bed.
"What does that mean?" Mmabatho asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The doctor nodded sympathetically. "It means that your placenta is lying low in your uterus, partially or completely covering your cervix. It's likely the cause of the bleeding. For now, we'll need to monitor you closely to ensure both you and the baby remain safe."
"Is she... is she going to be okay?" Sandile asked, his voice firm but strained.
"With proper care, yes," the doctor reassured them. "However, you'll need to stay in the hospital for at least a week, maybe two, depending on how things progress. We want to make sure there's no further bleeding or risk to the baby."
Mmabatho swallowed hard, her mind racing. The idea of staying in the hospital wasn't ideal, but she couldn't take any risks with her baby.
"Okay," she said softly, her hand instinctively resting on her belly.
Sandile leaned forward. "What happens next? What should we be looking out for?"
"We'll keep you on bed rest and monitor the baby's heart rate and growth," the doctor explained. "If the condition persists closer to your due date, we might have to consider a cesarean delivery. But for now, the goal is to keep the pregnancy going as safely as possible."
Mmabatho nodded, though the weight of the situation felt like a boulder on her chest.
Sandile reached out, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You're not alone in this," he said firmly.
As the night wore on, Sandile stayed by Mmabatho's side, refusing to leave until she drifted off to sleep. Even then, he remained in the chair by her bed, his mind replaying the events of the night and the doctor's words.
In the quiet of the hospital room, he realized just how much he cared about Mmabathoânot just as the surrogate carrying his child, but as someone who had become an important part of his life.
He glanced at her sleeping form, her face peaceful despite everything that had happened.
"We've got this," he whispered to himself, determination setting in. "We've got this."
It's barely 7 AM, and Sandile was already on edge as he pulled into the driveway of His house. His body was tired, but his mind buzzed with everything that had happened overnight. He found Khanyiswa in the kitchen, scrolling through her phone with her morning coffee. She barely glanced up at him.
"Morning," Sandile started, placing his keys on the counter.
Khanyiswa's sharp eyes darted to him. "Morning? That's it? No explanation as to why you didn't bother telling me immediately what happened with Mmabatho?"
Sandile sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sthandwa Sam, I didn't have time to explain last night. She was bleeding. I had to get her to the hospital. That was my priority."
Her cup landed on the counter with a thud. "Your priority? Don't forget that this whole arrangement involves both of us. I had every right to know what was happening in real-time, not hours later!"
"Real-time?" Sandile snapped, his frustration bubbling over. "You're seriously making this about you right now? After everything you said to her yesterday? You've been nothing but hostile toward Mmabatho, and now you want to act like you care?"
Khanyiswa's lips tightened into a thin line, her anger mixing with guilt, but she wasn't about to back down. "I had the right to know," she repeated, her tone icy.
"I don't have time for this," Sandile muttered, shaking his head. Without another word, he headed upstairs to shower, leaving Khanyiswa fuming in the kitchen.
After freshening up, Sandile grabbed his car keys and hit the road again, his mind focused on what needed to be done. While driving, he called Ona.
"Hey," she answered groggily.
"Sorry to wake you," he started, "but I need your help. Mmabatho's in the hospitalâ"
"What?!" Ona was instantly awake.
"She's okay now, but she's been diagnosed with placenta previa. She's going to be there for at least a week or two. I need you to go to her apartment and pack some things for her. I'll pick you up, and we'll head to the hospital together."
"Of course. I'll go there now," Ona replied firmly, already moving.
About an hour later, they were at the hospital. As soon as Ona spotted Mmabatho in the bed, she rushed to her side and pulled her into a tight hug.
"Dude," Ona whispered, holding back her own tears. "You scared the hell out of me."
That was all it took. Mmabatho started crying, clutching her best friend like a lifeline.
"It's been a mess," Mmabatho mumbled, wiping her cheeks. "I didn't even know what was happening. There was blood everywhereâ"
"Don't even talk about it," Ona said, shaking her head. "You're okay now, and that's all that matters. You hear me?"
They sat on the bed together, with Sandile watching from a chair in the corner.
As the morning wore on, the mood lightened a little. Ona and Mmabatho started gossiping, and the topic naturally turned to Khanyiswa.
"So," Ona started, giving Mmabatho a knowing look. "What really happened with Khanyi yesterday?"
Mmabatho sighed, leaning back into her pillows. "She was so out of line. She just kept saying the nastiest things, acting like I'm doing this for myself and not for them. Like, hello? I'm literally carrying her child."
Ona's jaw dropped. "She really said all that? And she didn't even apologize?"
"Of course not," Mmabatho scoffed.
"She has some nerve," Ona said, shaking her head. "If I were you, I would'veâ"
"She has some nerve and an ego," Sandile cut in from his corner, his voice low but pointed.
Both women turned to him, startled.
"What?" Sandile shrugged. "I'm not defending her. She crossed the line."
Mmabatho gave him a small smile of appreciation before continuing.
Just as the conversation was winding down, the door opened, and Khanyiswa walked in, carrying a large bouquet of flowers.
The room fell silent.
"Hi," Khanyiswa said, her tone unusually soft. She looked at Mmabatho and then at the flowers in her hands. "These are for you. IâI wanted to apologize for yesterday."
Ona raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, but Mmabatho just stared at the flowers for a moment before nodding. "Thanks."
Khanyiswa placed the bouquet on the bedside table, her movements careful and deliberate. She seemed to sense the tension but said nothing else, settling into a chair near the bed.
The energy in the room was awkward, but the fact that Khanyiswa had made an effort, however small, was something.