Chapter 51
Tshabina
I rubbed my hands together beneath my coat. Even with the hospital’s heaters humming, a coldness clung to my skin, refusing to let me feel settled.
We had all been at the hospital for two days. I sat on a chair in the corridor, not far from Mama Nadine’s room. Tsabinu had gone to fetch us something warm to drink, while Zioh and Zeraiah stayed inside the room with their mother.
I remembered how Mama Nadine screamed, short and sudden, the sound echoing—as if she’d been dragged out of a nightmare, and it had begun on Christmas morning. After that, her constant shouting kept us awake, piercing and relentless.
We had all slept together in the hallway outside her bedroom, laying thick carpets on the floor. Tsabinu, Zeraiah, and I stayed there, while Zioh never once left his mother’s side.
Zeraiah had always trembled with fear. I often found myself and Tsabinu soothing him whenever Zioh, Grandpa Ethan, and Grandma Morag were inside with Mama Nadine.
When we’d decided to take Mama Nadine to the hospital, I could hardly recognise her. I remembered the freeze in my body when I first saw her state after days of locking herself in her room. Panic had twisted all our faces when the security guard carried Mama Nadine to the car.
Her face had been ashen, her under-eyes dark, and her cheeks covered in dried tear trails.
Her lips were dry, drained of color; her eyes remained open, staring into nothing.
The image burned into my mind, lingering even behind my closed eyelids.
It had only been a week since I’d last seen her, yet she had withered into ruin.
Not only that, but Mama Nadine had gasped for breath, clutching her chest, her mouth open in silent cries. While they took her to the hospital, Tsabinu and I waited at home long into the night. I clung to my brother, sobbing so hard that my body shook against his shoulder.
When we finally decided to follow, I ran through the hospital, searching for Zioh.
When I found him, he was standing alone, trembling and pale, as if his heart could no longer pump blood through his veins.
When he saw me, he pulled me into his arms and cried.
His body shook, his breath came hard, and a pained sound escaped him.
That was the first time I had ever seen Zioh cry.
The first time we wept together in grief.
Grandpa Ethan and Grandma Morag had also been in pieces for two days now. And I had caught Grandpa Ethan yelling on the phone more than once or snapping at staff and anyone near him.
But no one gave me answers.
I didn’t even know if Tsabinu understood more than I did. He only kept calming me, as Grandma Morag had done the first day. She’d told me Mama Nadine had given blood for testing and would undergo more examinations. She urged us to go home, but none of us left.
We spent the nights in the waiting room, and Grandpa Ethan’s staff brought our belongings over.
This floor had only two rooms—Mama Nadine’s and an empty one where we used to rest. Grandpa Ethan’s staff were stationed nearby, ready if we needed something.
We stayed.
For Mama Nadine.
For Zioh and Zeraiah.
Because… they only had their grandparents.
I didn’t understand why Uncle Bakti or Mas Zaeem hadn’t come. Zeraiah once hinted that Mas Zaeem would arrive soon, though he’d be delayed. But whenever I asked about Uncle Bakti, Zeraiah would fall silent; his face told me never to press further.
Earlier, I had peeked in on Mama Nadine as she slept, but I hadn’t lasted long in the room. Something about her seemed different, altered in ways I couldn’t place, and I had to step out again.
Lost in thought, I kept staring at my feet until the door opened. Zioh stepped out, his shoulders slumped, with each step weighed down, hood pulled over his head, cream trousers nearly brushing his shoes. His face was pale and weary, yet he still gave me a small smile.
He walked over and sat beside me. His tired, gentle eyes met mine. “You should go home and rest,” he said, voice barely above a whisper, brushing my hair with a tender gesture. “I’ll ask the chauffeur to take you.”
I looked up at him. His body seemed drained of strength, and all I wanted was to ease his burdens—to massage his shoulders, give him anything to make him feel better.
I shook my head. “No… I want to stay here.” My voice wavered. “I promise I won’t be a bother, Zi.” Truly. I couldn’t leave them all like this. I wanted to help—anything.
He exhaled a slow breath, his eyes steady on mine. “I’m not asking you to go home because I think you’re a bother, Sophie,” he said. “I just don’t want you exhausted here as well.”
Swallowing hard, I shifted in my seat. “I can help, Zi. Really.”
He nodded, and the voice that slipped from his lips eased the storm churning within me. “You’ve already helped more than you realise.”
But not enough.
You were still in pain.
How could I take that pain away from him?
“I can do anything,” I pleaded, the restlessness in me begging for release, because sitting idle felt unbearable.
His hand brushed my cheek. “I know.” His voice calmed, warm. “You could do anything.”
I knew my presence wasn’t much. This family had more help than they could need—staff running errands, managing clothes, documents, food, and everything else. My presence here was ornamental at best. Sometimes, I even felt like a burden.
Which was why I needed to do something.
Zioh said nothing more and gazed at me with a trembling smile. His hands slid to my back, and then he rested his head on my shoulder.
He drew a deep breath at the hollow of my neck, and I could feel the warm, damp sensation across my skin.
I bit my lip to steady the emotion rushing through me.
My eyes were heating up until all I could do was rest my head against his and rub slow circles on his back, offering what little comfort I could.
We stayed like that for nearly half an hour, until the ding of the lift broke the silence. Tsabinu appeared, carrying a box of drinks.
“Hot chocolate,” he said, handing us cups. Both Zioh and I thanked him, then fell back into quiet. Tsabinu sat beside Zioh, watching him carefully. Though I realised I was, too.
“How’s Mama Nadine?” Tsabinu asked, his voice trembling.
Zioh turned towards him. “She’s asleep again.” His voice was hoarse. “The medicine helps.”
Their eyes locked for a moment, and I was sure there was an intensity I couldn’t explain there. I frowned, but before I could speak, Zioh looked back at me with another of his soft smiles.
“It’s New Year’s Eve tonight. Want to go down to the Thames?” His voice was gentle, almost coaxing. “We could watch the fireworks at the London Eye. Grandpa’s got a yacht moored there.” His fingers brushed my lips after I sipped the hot chocolate. “Would you like that?”
My heart skipped.
It was on my list. One of the wishes I had written down.
But now, it felt different. It felt wrong for us to go out and celebrate the new year when things were like this.
When Mama Nadine was lying sick in the room near us.
My smile slipped, and I lowered my head. I was about to shake it, to refuse Zioh’s offer, when his voice came again.
“You and Zeraiah have been gloomy lately,” he said. I lifted my gaze back to him. Truthfully, it wasn’t just us; we were all the same, weighed down and crushed by these days.
“Mum’s asleep. Likely until morning, after the medicine.” He gestured to either side of us. “And there are plenty of staff watching over her.” His tone was quiet, reassuring. “Maybe it’s best we let her rest peacefully tonight, right?”
He gave a slight shrug, still speaking in a warm voice.
“You know… when I told Mum one of your wishes was to see New Year’s at the London Eye, she immediately suggested I take you on a yacht.
” This time, his smile was warm, subdued.
A calm that wrapped around me, making me return his smile, just as wide.
He was always thinking of us, when the one who needed care most was him. He was the one who hurt and suffered the most.
I hoped he found some peace and happiness, too, even for a moment, not only for us but for himself.
“Hm? You wanna go there?”
I held his gentle gaze and nodded. Then I turned to Tsabinu, who exhaled and nodded in agreement. “In that case,” Tsabinu murmured, “I’ll put these chocolates in the room and fetch Zeraiah.”
? ── * ── ?
We headed together to the private pier on Grandpa Ethan and Grandma Morag’s estate by the Thames.
Zeraiah had brightened up already, chattering excitedly in the car.
He told us his grandparents had spoken directly with the Port of London Authority and river operators, securing us a spot within the exclusion zone—the tightly controlled viewing area for the fireworks at the London Eye.
Zeraiah was thrilled. He told me he’d bribed someone to sneak wine and beer aboard. I shot him a sharp glare, warning him off.
This was not the time for his mischief.
Drinking? No. None of us needed that. We weren’t even of age!
Zeraiah had first started tasting alcohol when he caught Zioh sipping vodka a year ago.
And ever since, Zioh had carried the guilt and frustration of it, because whenever he tried to scold Zeraiah for drinking, his brother would turn that past incident into a shield.
It became a vicious cycle—especially here in the UK.
Of course, neither of them would dare in Indonesia. Zeraiah always seemed to hold himself back at home, though he often failed. His antics and exhausting rebellious streak seemed to belong here, in England, where he felt… freer.
But still, not this. Not now. Not under these circumstances.
I remembered how I had caught Zioh drinking a year ago—drinking until he lost consciousness. I was furious, especially at Tsabinu, who had secretly kept him company and dragged him to bed once he was tipsy.
I had been livid because what on earth were they thinking?