THE WAKE-UP CALL

Name: THE WAKE-UP CALL
Rating: 5.0 (1 reviews)

Winner Wems

Adventure | Ongoing

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In this gripping tale of love, ambition, and betrayal, a doctor finds himself at a crossroads when his banker wife refuses to have children after years of agreement. Desperate and out of options, he seeks help from those closest to him, triggering a chain of events that blurs the lines between loyalty and manipulation. When a young house help arrives, tensions rise, secrets unravel, and intentions are tested. The Wake-Up Call is a sharp, emotional story about what happens when communication breaks down, when ego overshadows love, and when one dramatic act forces a woman to confront the life, and marriage, she took for granted. Will their love survive the deception? Or is it already too late?

Family Modern First love Revenge Doctor Attractive

Chapter 3 A MOTHER'S SHADOW

06-09 01:53

Chapter 1 BEFORE THE VOWS

The first time they came across each other, it wasn't exactly love at first sight, but there was something-something that made them pause, like the air has changed among them

He was in queue at the bank, just like every other customer, as he wore a crisp white shirt and navy slacks, looking tired from a night shift at the hospital. His stethoscope still dangled from the side pocket of his messenger bag, forgotten. She was behind the counter, efficient and effective, her glasses perched low on her nose, fingers flying across her computer keyboard with practiced ease.

He'd noticed her smile before she even noticed him. It wasn't forced, like the ones most people wear to keep their jobs. It was quiet, self-assured. She smiled like she didn't need anything from anyone. That kind of confidence caught his attention.

She didn't look up at first when he approached the counter as she was too focused on her computer.

"Good morning," in a slow, soft voice, he said.

She looked up, and something zoomed in her eyes-curiosity, but she wasn't sure.

"Good morning sir," she replied. "Please, how can I be of help to you?"

He was actually there for a simple transaction, something quick, but he found himself speaking really slow, taking longer than he needed to. He asked a few questions which he already knew the answers to, just to hear her talk.

When he finally left the bank, he realized that he hadn't even requested for her name.

That evening, he mentioned her to his friend at the hospital.

"There's this woman at the bank," he said, almost offhandedly, but his friend raised a brow.

"A woman? That's a new tone in your voice."

"Don't start."

His friend laughed. "So what's her name?"

"I forgot to ask."

"A whole doctor like you, and you can't remember to ask for a name

With a smile, he said, "I'll go back"; and he actually did.

Two days later, this time, she was at a different desk. He pretended he had a card issue.

"You were here two days ago," she said, glancing at the filled form he handed to her.

"I was," he admitted, "but I forgot to ask of your name."

She stared at him, then she smiled with a soft smile, "I'm Adaeze."

He introduced himself, "Nathan."

They shook hands.

It was simple after that. A few conversations, a coffee date, then to another. They talked about everything-their childhoods, their careers, their goals. She was humble, focused, the kind of woman who'd drawn a roadmap for her life and knew exactly where each turn was.

He was ambitious too, but different. Medicine had chosen him, and he had answered the call. He loved people, fixing things and listening.

They were opposites in many ways-she was calculative, driven by logic; while he was intuitive, more open to chance, but it worked. They balanced each other, and they both believed in building something stable, Something that wouldn't crack under pressure.

A year into dating, he proposed. She said yes without blinking. There were no long speeches, No fairy tale theatrics, Just a deep, quiet understanding.

They married six months later in a modest but beautiful ceremony. Family, close friends were all present. Adaeze's mother cried through the whole thing, clutching her daughter's hand like she was giving away a national treasure. Nathan's father-long retired from the police force, stood like a statue, nodding with silent approval.

After the ceremony, in a quiet moment, Nathan and Adaeze sat alone at the back of the venue. Their hands interlocked, their foreheads touching. She leaned on him.

"Do you think we're ready for this?" she whispered.

"For what?"

"For all of it, Marriage, Life."

He looked at her and smiled, "Maybe, we are not, but we'll figure out everything together."

She nodded. "I want us to agree on something now, before everything gets crazy."

"Okay."

"No kids, not for now; at least not until we're both where we want to be, let's say... five years?"

Nathan paused, "You're sure?"

"I am."

He thought about it, about the long hours he already worked, about the way she lit up when she talked about becoming a senior executive, about the kind of home they wanted to build.

"Alright," he said finally, "Five years."

They shook on it like business partners, then they kissed like lovers, that was them-always blending the practical with the passionate.

The first year of marriage was easy, too easy. They lived in a modest flat on the island, close enough to both of their jobs. They laughed often, Danced in the kitchen on quiet nights, Made love without pressure or purpose, No accidents, No pregnancy scares, just... life together; But life, like people, has a way of shifting quietly, almost unnoticeably at first.

By the second year, Nathan started spending more nights at the hospital. From emergencies to double shifts, surgeries that ran into the early hours of the morning. Adaeze, in turn, was climbing fast at her bank-more meetings, more targets, more stress. They talked less, Slept less, argued more, nothing explosive, just little cuts-missed dates, unanswered calls, cold dinners left on the table.

They chalked it up to stress. "We're just busy," Adaeze would say.

"We'll come back to each other," Nathan always believed.

Still, every once in a while, he'd look at her across the dinner table and wonder: is this still the same woman who once clung to my arm at the wedding, whispering forever?

On their fourth anniversary, he bought her a necklace she'd once admired in a magazine. She kissed him, thanked him, but the spark felt dimmer.

By the fifth year, he was ready, or maybe he just needed something to pull them back to each other -- A child, a shared purpose, a reason to slow down.

One Sunday morning, over breakfast, he brought it up.

"I've been thinking," he said, setting down his coffee, "It's five years already."

She didn't leave her gaze from her tablet, "Five years?"

"Our agreement."

There was a pause. She blinked, "Oh, That?"

He waited for her to say more, She didn't.

"We should be ready," he said.

She finally looked up. "Nathan... I don't know if I'm there yet."

The air shifted. Something invisible fell between them. He smiled, trying to keep it light. "We agreed. You were the one who suggested it, remember?"

"I know, but things have changed. I'm just not ready."

That was the first time he felt a chill between them that love couldn't warm.