The hotel lobby bustled with the usual morning rush. Guests checked in and out, businesspeople in crisp suits hurried across the polished marble floor, and waitresses carried trays balanced with steaming cups of coffee. Amara moved gracefully among them, dressed neatly in her uniform, her hair tied back into a sleek bun.
She had grown used to this rhythm over the past four years-the clinking of glasses, the hum of conversations, the constant need to smile at strangers no matter how tired she felt. But today, her manager's voice cut through the usual noise, carrying a weight that immediately caught her attention.
"Amara," he called, motioning her over.
"Yes, sir?" She stepped forward quickly, clutching the notepad she always carried.
"You'll be handling a very important guest today," he said. "The VIPs will be landing soon, and I want you to serve them personally. Be prepared. They're not ordinary clients."
Her eyes widened slightly. She had served important people before, but her boss's tone suggested something different this time. "Yes, sir. I'll handle it."
She had just begun adjusting her uniform when her phone buzzed. At first, she considered ignoring it-personal calls during work weren't encouraged-but something told her to look. She pulled it from her pocket.
"Hello?" she answered softly.
"Am I speaking to Miss Amara Rivera?" a woman's voice asked on the other end.
"Yes... this is she."
"This is Leah's school," the voice said gently.
Amara's breath hitched. "Oh, okay... Is everything alright?"
There was a pause, and then the words came like a hammer to her chest. "Leah is sick. Please, we need you to come immediately."
Her heart dropped. "What? Sick? What happened to her? Is she okay?"
"Please, ma'am, come quickly. We've called the ambulance already. She's being taken to the hospital."
The call ended before Amara could even respond. Her hand trembled as the phone slid down from her ear. She stood frozen in the middle of the hallway, the noise of the hotel fading until all she could hear was the thundering of her heartbeat.
Her manager noticed the panic on her face. "Amara, what's wrong?"
"My daughter... Leah. She's sick. They're taking her to the hospital." Her voice cracked, tears filling her eyes. "Please, sir, I need to go. I'll come back as soon as I can, I promise."
The man frowned but nodded. "Go. Family comes first. Just... try to return quickly."
"Thank you," Amara whispered, already tearing off her apron. She rushed to the locker room, changed into her clothes with trembling hands, and ran outside.
---
On her way, she dialed Mia's number with shaking fingers.
"Mia," she cried the moment her friend picked up.
"What's wrong?"
"It's Leah. The school called-she's sick. They're taking her to the hospital."
"Oh, my God," Mia gasped. "Calm down, Amara. Listen-take her straight to the doctors. Don't worry about Leo. I'll pick him up from school myself after work."
Tears blurred Amara's vision as she drove, pressing her foot harder on the pedal. "Okay. Please hurry, Mia. I can't do this alone."
"You're not alone," Mia reassured her firmly. "I'll meet you at the hospital as soon as I can."
---
By the time Amara reached the hospital, her hands were clammy and her heart pounded against her ribcage. She rushed into the emergency ward, the white fluorescent lights stinging her eyes.
"Doctor!" she cried, spotting a nurse wheeling her daughter's bed into a room. "That's my child-please, what's wrong with her?"
The doctor, a calm-faced man in a white coat, placed a hand on her shoulder. "Ma'am, please stay calm. Your daughter is stable for now, but she needs urgent medical attention."
Amara shook her head violently, tears streaming down her face. "No, no, tell me what's happening to her. What's wrong with my baby?"
"We need to perform a blood transfusion immediately," the doctor explained. "Her body has lost too much strength. Without it, she won't recover."
"Then take mine!" Amara begged desperately. "Please, I'll give her anything-just take it from me!"
The doctor nodded quickly. "Alright. Come with me. We'll test your blood type first."
Her hands trembled as she signed the consent form and rolled up her sleeve. Every second felt like an eternity as the nurse drew her blood. She kept glancing at the room where Leah lay unconscious, her little face pale against the white hospital pillow.
Minutes later, the doctor returned with the results. His expression was grim.
"Ma'am, I'm afraid your blood type doesn't match your daughter's."
Amara froze, her breath catching in her throat. "What? No... that's not possible. She's my daughter. Just... try again. Please!"
"I'm sorry," the doctor said firmly but gently. "The only option now is to get blood from her biological father. His type is the closest match."
Amara's knees almost buckled beneath her. The world around her tilted, her vision blurring with panic. The father. The man she didn't even remember. The man whose face haunted her dreams but whose name she couldn't even speak.
"H-her father?" she stammered. "I... I can't..."
"Please, ma'am," the doctor pressed, urgency in his tone. "If you want to save your daughter, you must bring the father. Without him, we might lose her."
Amara stumbled out into the hallway, tears running freely down her cheeks. She leaned against the wall, clutching her phone like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her mind spun, her chest tightening with dread.
There was only one person she could call.
Her shaking fingers dialed Mia's number again.
"Mia," she sobbed the moment her friend answered.
"Amara! What happened?" Mia's voice was sharp with panic.
"She... she needs a blood transfusion," Amara choked out between sobs. "They tested mine-it didn't match. They said... they said she needs her father's blood."
There was silence on the other end, heavy and suffocating.
"Mia?" Amara whispered.
Mia finally spoke, her voice trembling. "Oh, my God... Amara. Just... just wait. I'm coming now. Don't do anything rash. Stay with her. I'll be there."
Amara pressed the phone tighter to her ear, her tears soaking her blouse. "But, Mia, I don't even know who her father is! How can I get him?"
Mia's voice broke. "Please, just hold on. I'm on my way."
The line went dead.
Amara sank to the floor in the hospital corridor, her sobs echoing off the cold, sterile walls. Her daughter's life hung by a thread, and the only person who could save her was a man she couldn't remember.