Novels by Zainab Ibrahim

Maya POV “If you read our contract clearly, it states that no question is to be asked. Just do your job and leave after 1week. I am paying you for it.”That's one of the worst egoistic words I have ever heard in my life. Too arrogant. Too void of care and I wonder how that kind of man tends to live with his own daughter.Those words haven't left my head even till this present morning and to think I was feeling sick. My head throbbed, and under my ribs, a slow, sick burn crawled its way up my chest. I pressed a hand to my stomach. It didn't help. I sat up slowly, blinking away the dizziness.The pamphlet from the hospital peeked out from under my pillow. I shoved it deeper under the mattress before I could read the words again. Gastric cancer. Early stage. Immediate treatment advised.I hadn’t told Xavier yet. I wouldn't want to be like a golddigger. I wasn't done with the service yet. Hell, I hadn’t told myself.A soft knock on the door pulled me back to reality.“Maya,” Xavier’s

Maya POV The moment I stepped through the arched doorway of Xavier Stetson’s house, I knew one thing for certain:This wasn't a home. It was a museum. Beautiful in and out. Silver fixtures gleaming from every corner. The living room-if it could be called that-had clean white sofas that looked allergic to crumbs or joy. The walls were bare except for a single abstract painting: harsh, black brush strokes on a canvas of white. Why would a woman even leave this kind of man? For what reasons? What could be the clause in everything?Everything smelt wealth and he smelt calm.And it was… silent.No music. No laughter. No life.Just stillness.Xavier’s footsteps echoed behind me, steady and sure. “You’ll be staying in the guest room at the end of the hall. It’s been prepared.”“Prepared,” I repeated under my breath. Like I was being quarantined, not welcomed.He didn’t respond.I followed him down a corridor with too many doors and too few signs of humanity. No family pictures. No crayon

Maya POV “Ting, Ting, Ting.”If it weren't for the pounding on my head and the sharp pain coming from my ribs, I would've thought I was dreaming. But dreams didn’t come with overdue rent notices, a hospital wristband still clinging to your skin, or a voicemail from your doctor confirming a biopsy result you already knew was coming.The sound of my phone beeping had woken me up from the longer deep slumber and I could barely even lift my eyes open. The mascara I applied had gummed my eyes together due to the heavy tears and my heart? They were still aching. I didn't know how I survived to get into my apartment last night, despite the rain, but I did. I lazily scrolled through the notifications again, my numb fingers moving over the screen. The Past Due came. Final warning. Debt. The last text from the hospital's billing office. $180 due to begin treatment. Without insurance, there was no plan. No options.No future.Then I saw it. A ping from an old app I barely remember signing

Maya POVI woke up to the beeping of a matching and the nauseating scent of antiseptic. My throat was dry. My limbs were numb. And my chest…my chest felt like someone had taken a fist to it. A deep, ache coursed underneath my ribs as I tried to sit up, disoriented and slow. Where was I?The hospital?“Miss Angelou?”A voice, soft, that of a male, drew my gaze to the right. A doctor stood near the foot of my bed, flipping through a clipboard. His coat was pristine, his expression composed. “You're awake. That's good,” he said. “You collapsed from internal bleeding. We managed to stabilize you in time since you tried your way out here on your own.”My voice broke. “Bleeding ... .from what?”He stepped closer, concern flickering in his eyes. “I guess you do not know then. You were pregnant, Miss Angelou.”I blinked twice and between those times, it felt like the time froze. Pregnant? Were?“You were….around five weeks,” he continued gently. “Unfortunately, the pregnancy didn't hold.