I WAS A PROSTITUTE & MY DAD WHO HAD DIVORCED MY MOM HIRED ME FOR THE NIGHT

EPISODE 16
Written by ©GAMBO ELVIS

I did everything possible not to leave her alone with my father. In my mind, I feared she might be there not out of love but for reasons of her own. Maybe she had only come to confirm if he was still breathing… or worse, to make sure he stopped. I couldn’t help but suspect her. After all, she had married him for the opportunity to travel to Canada. Now, with him lying helpless in a hospital bed, she might be tempted to end it all and claim everything he had worked for.

Perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps my fears were nothing but paranoia. But I couldn’t take chances. I needed to be certain her actions around him were genuine.

At the same time, I found myself thinking about Liam. I wished he would come back to check on me. I knew if I stayed in the hospital, he could easily find me. And so, I stayed—not just for my father’s safety, but for a small, selfish hope of seeing the man who had begun to feel like my prince charming.

My father lay still, machines breathing for him, while his wife couldn’t even manage to stay an hour by his side. I stayed day and night, refusing to move. Deep inside, I believed he would wake up. I clung to that hope.

Two days passed. I was stranded in the hospital, tired, and hungry. The sharp smell of disinfectant in the corridors made me lose my appetite. Still, I refused to leave.

I called my mother to tell her that my father was in critical condition. Her voice was cold, almost careless.
“Why are you bothering about a man who never cared about you? Leave that hospital right away,” she said.

“He is my father, Mom.”

“And so what? Doesn’t he have a wife? Let her take care of him.”

But I couldn’t. I disobeyed my mother and remained there, watching over him like a stubborn child.

Liam still didn’t show up. I kept waiting, kept hoping, kept imagining him walking through those hospital doors. But the days were empty. And there I was—angry at a man who had done nothing wrong, who had only helped me when I needed it, yet hadn’t come back.

That evening, Margaret—my father’s wife—and her daughter walked into the ward.

“I need to go and get something to eat,” I told her, exhausted.

“Do it quickly,” she replied sharply. “Don’t expect me to stay here waiting for you beside a man who is still…”

“Is he not your husband?” I asked.

“Yes, but I am paying the bills,” she shot back.

Her words stung, but I left without replying.

As I stepped out into the cool evening air, I noticed a familiar car pulling into the hospital parking lot. My heart skipped. I knew that car. I knew who it was. But I pretended not to notice.

“Mbinlah!” a warm voice called out behind me.

I stopped, turning slightly. Liam was walking quickly towards me. “Wait for me, please,” he said gently.

When he caught up, he smiled apologetically. “My dear, I’m sorry I didn’t come earlier. Something came up.” He was holding a plastic bag. “This is for you.”

“Thank you. That’s so thoughtful,” I said, smiling despite myself.

“I couldn’t stay away any longer. How is your father?”

“He’s just there… no change.”

“Let me check on him,” he said, and we walked together into the ward. He stood at the foot of the bed, looking at my father with quiet concern. He didn’t speak much, just nodded slowly as if saying a silent prayer.

I didn’t introduce him to my stepmother or stepsister. Something in me didn’t feel the need. When we stepped outside, he asked, “Was that your stepmom and stepsister?”

“Yes,” I replied.

He frowned slightly. “Why were they looking at us like that?”

“I don’t know,” I answered truthfully.

He smiled again and said, “Come, let’s get you something proper to eat.”

We went to a small restaurant nearby. For the first time in days, I felt human again—eating, laughing, forgetting the hospital walls for a while. Liam listened as I talked, and even when I tried to hide my emotions, I could tell he saw through me.

After lunch, he drove me back and stopped right in front of the hospital. “When can I see you again, my source of joy?” he asked, his eyes holding mine in a way that made my heart race.

“Anytime you wish,” I replied softly.

I was smiling to myself as I walked back into the building. But before I could reach the ward, a nurse came rushing towards me.

“Your father is conscious,” she said quickly.

I froze. “You mean my father finally woke up?”

“Yes,” she nodded, smiling.

“Thank God,” I whispered, my heart swelling with relief.

Without another word, I hurried to Ward 15