Dramatic film version in Mexican Spanish

My name is Ayochidi, and this story wasn’t written… it wrote itself.

I went to Olivia’s house hoping to talk to her, to fix things… maybe even to start over. There was so much to say, so much I still felt for her.

I knocked softly, then harder… but no one came out. I knocked again and again. Nothing. Not a sound, not a voice, not a shadow behind the window.

My heart pounding, I tried the knob. It was open. I pushed the door.
“Olivia?” I called, as I entered. Silence.
“Olivia!” I repeated, louder this time.

I walked down the hallway and reached her room. There, on the floor, lay Olivia, unconscious, motionless.

I knelt beside her, took her face in my hands, and tried to wake her.
“Olivia, wake up! Please! Olivia!”

Nothing. Terror drove me to action. I picked her up in my arms as if time were running out and rushed her to the car.

“What happened?” the doctor asked as we entered the emergency room.

“I don’t know… I found her like that, lying on the floor,” I replied, drowning in anxiety and fear.

“Wait in the lobby. I’ll run some tests,” the doctor told me before disappearing behind the doors.

I stayed in the waiting room for hours. I didn’t feel the passage of time. I just wanted her to be okay.

Amanda, my fiancée, kept calling me. One call after another… my cell phone screen vibrated as if it, too, knew something was wrong. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to.

Finally, the doctor returned.

“Is she okay? How is Olivia?” I asked, standing up in a second.

“She’s stable. Awake. She’s just been under a lot of stress,” the doctor said in a calm voice.

“What kind of stress?” I asked.

“You should ask her that. I’ll come back later to check on her,” he replied before leaving.

My cell phone rang again. This time it was an unknown number. I answered with a tired voice.

“Mr. Ayochidi?” the voice on the other end asked.

“Yes, it’s me. Who’s speaking?”

“Your fiancée has been admitted to the hospital,” the person said.

“My fiancée? Which one?” I asked, confused.

“Amanda Peters,” he said.

My heart stopped for a moment.

“What happened to her? Which hospital is she in?”

“Helping Hand Hospital,” he replied.

It was the same hospital where Olivia was!

“Which ward?” I asked. They gave me the information and I ran through the halls.

“Mr. Ayochidi?” the doctor asked as soon as he saw me arrive.

“What happened to her?” I asked, breathing heavily.

“She collapsed. Her neighbor brought her,” he replied.

“What’s wrong?”

The doctor lowered his voice.

“I have good news and bad news.”

“The good news?” I asked hopefully.

“She’s pregnant,” he said.

I felt a whirlwind of emotions.

“And the bad news?”

The doctor took a deep breath before dropping the bombshell.

“She has cancer. Stage 4. Colon cancer.”

I couldn’t get a word out. I stood there, motionless, as if the whole world were turning without me.

One life was beginning… and another perhaps was fading.

To be continued…

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Moneda al Aire is more than a story…
It is the portrait of a heart torn between the past, the present, and an uncertain future.