~✨A Wattpad featured story✨~
"My momma always told me that boys and books don't mix. I believed her but I still wanted both. I wanted boys and I wanted to keep my books."
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Find out if she gets both in this thrilling story. Let's follow every step o...
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Like a flash, things seemed to happen so quickly. It was like turning your head just for a moment, but by the time you turned back the world had already ended. Ifeoma felt the same way–like her world had ended–when she found out that her baby was kidnapped. But now, she somehow couldn't imagine how she would live if Jeffery didn't fight through the situation they were in.
Jeffery please wait for me. Ifeoma whispered as she ran towards the operation room where Jeffery was.
Although the doctor had been the one to call her, she was the one who led the way back. There was nothing she wanted more than to see Jeffery. She hoped and prayed deeply that he was alright.
He had to be alright.
How would she live without him? How could she even think of living without him?
There was so much she wanted to do with him, so much she wanted to say to him and so much more she wanted to thank him for.
How would she do all that if he didn't pull through the circumstances around them?
It hurt her that she hadn't had the chance to thank him for loving her unconditionally. For loving her more than she loved herself and for sacrificing as much as he did for her.
How would anyone love her the way he loved her?
The answer was no one could, just as no one ever knew what would happen next.
"Miss Ifeoma please wait. You have to dress appropriately for this, he is still in a critical condition." The doctor called after Ifeoma who turned around abruptly and hurriedly ran into the next office where she wore all that she was required to.
"Jeffery..." Tears seeped down slowly from Ifeoma's eyes. Watching him lay almost lifeless on a bed that wasn't supposed to be his' was enough to force tears from the bank she had saved them before.
From every single aspect—no matter which anyone cared to look from—Jeffery didn't deserve anything that was happening to him.
Was it the hand that pulled the trigger that brought him down that he deserved?
Or was it bullet that tore though him that served him right?
Or the sturdy pipe that was connected from his nose to the oxygen tank that suited him?
Or was it the pain that was etched boldly on his face that matched his skin tone finely?
