Becoming Mrs. Blackwood

~ LENA ~

Forty-eight hours.

That was how long my sister, Sofia, had left to live.

The doctor’s voice wouldn’t stop echoing in my head. It had been cold and final, like a sentence already passed.

“Mrs. Martinez—if we don’t operate within the next forty-eight hours, her heart may fail. We could lose her.”

My chest tightened painfully as I sat on a cold bench just outside the hospital, my fingers clenched together so tightly they ached. Around me, the world continued as if nothing had changed. Nurses rushed past, stretches rolled by, voices rose and fell. But it all sounded distant, muffled.

None of it felt real.

Because somewhere inside the hospital, my eleven-year-old sister was dying.

I swallowed hard as the weight of the doctor’s words pressed down on me, squeezing until it hurt to breathe. Sofia had been born with a congenital heart condition that had slowly gotten worse over the years. Now it had reached the point where she needed an urgent surgery to survive. A surgery that cost a fortune we didn’t have.

I had tried everything to raise the money. Everything—from loans, to charities, to churches. Even friends I hadn’t spoken to in years.

Dead ends. Every single one of them.

Now I sat here asking myself a question I already knew the answer to.

Where, in God’s name, were we supposed to find a hundred and eighty thousand dollars for emergency heart surgery?

As a company secretary, I was earning barely enough to keep food on the table and the lights on. My mother cleaned houses for a living, a maid’s job with no benefits, no insurance, nothing to fall back on. Together, we barely survived.

But this? This was impossible.

Inside the hospital room earlier, I’d watched my mother collapse into a chair after the doctor delivered the news and walked away. She’d gone pale instantly, and her hands shook uncontrollably.

“I’m just a maid,” she’d cried, her voice breaking. “W-where—am I… Where am I going to get that kind of money from?”

I had held her. I had told her everything would be okay, that we’d figure it out.

I had lied because she needed me to be strong. She couldn’t see my fear. She couldn’t know how close I was to breaking myself.

But out here, alone, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. The tears came fast, spilling down my cheeks as my body shook with quiet sobs. I felt so small, so helpless. Trapped. Like the world had finally backed me into a corner with no way out.

Only a miracle could save my sister now. I knew that. So, I prayed. Broken words whispered between my sobs.

“Oh God… Please don’t let Sofie die… Please… don’t take her away from us.”

My mother wasn’t going to survive it. I was sure of that.

I didn’t know how it would happen, where help would come from. I only knew it had to come. God had to do something.

“Miss