It was barely her first full day at LASUTH, but Tara was already convinced that Dr. Omotayo was not just trying to teach her medicine — he was trying to break her soul.
Before 11:00 AM, he had already sent her on five errands: lab results from hematology, scans from radiology, a missing ECG chart that apparently never existed, and twice — not once, twice — to the records unit to retrieve files of patients who had either been discharged months ago or were, according to one sleepy receptionist, "not even born yet."
And he wasn’t even subtle about it.
From his office window, Tayo stood sipping coffee, smirking as he watched Tara stomp back and forth like a frustrated cat. The way she twisted her lips in annoyance, muttered under her breath, and rolled her eyes when she thought no one was looking — it was comedy gold. He was thoroughly entertained.
By lunchtime, the hazing reached its peak.
"Get me fried rice, jollof rice, and two pieces of meat," he said, casually tossing a ₦2000 note onto her desk. "But not from the hospital canteen. I want it from that place outside the gate. The one beside the fruit stand."
Tara blinked. "But sir, there are over three—"
He looked up, one brow raised.
She sighed, snatched the money, and trudged out.
She returned twenty minutes later, sweat glistening on her forehead, the aroma of rice and overworked frustration trailing behind her.
He took the bag, peeked in, then frowned.
"Where’s the water?" he asked.
Tara nearly choked. "You didn’t say water."
"Common sense," he said, biting a piece of meat. "Besides, this meat is too tough. The rice is undercooked. The green beans look like prison food."
She stared at him in disbelief. "You’re literally eating it."
He chewed dramatically. "I have to manage it. My money shouldn’t waste. I’ll need antibiotics after this."
Tara exhaled sharply. "Look, I know I was wrong this morning. But you don’t have to be so wicked. This... this is just punishment."
Tayo leaned back, folding his arms. "What are you trying to say?"
She hesitated. "I mean... can we just move on already?"
"The word is ‘sorry,’" he said slowly. "S-O-R-R-Y. Want me to spell it in Igbo? Hausa? Morse code?"
She crossed her arms. "That’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying you don’t need to act like the world ended because of one bump."
Tayo smirked. "So you’re not sorry. Got it."
"I didn’t say that! I mean... I’m..." She cleared her throat, visibly struggling. Her pride was clashing with her future.
"Say it," he challenged. "Calmly. My mentor, my one and only best mentor, the number one surgeon in the entire universe — I, your dumb and disrespectful student, am sooo sorry. Simple."
Tara narrowed her eyes. "I’m not dumb. You were standing like a statue. What was I supposed to do, gawk at you?"
"Of course. Am I not handsome?" he teased.
She folded her arms. "Handsome ko, hand-few ni. Greek god my foot. If not for your brain, you’re just a fine casing with an empty processor. All those nurses falling for you like overripe mangoes need a reality check. Without your scrubs, you're just a tall headache."
Tayo froze mid-bite, staring at her.
She realized too late.
Silence.
She slowly looked down at her shoes, heat rushing to her cheeks.
Just then, a nurse burst in. "Doctor! Mr. Ben — the patient for the transplant — he's seizing!"
Tayo shot to his feet, grabbing his stethoscope. Tara followed.
Inside the ICU, Mr. Ben's body was convulsing on the bed. Monitors beeped wildly.
"Diazepam! 10mg IV, now!" Tayo commanded.
The nurse rushed to comply.
Tayo leaned over, stabilizing the patient's airway, adjusting the oxygen. He was in full command — calm, swift, precise.
Within minutes, the seizures ceased.
"Possible electrolyte imbalance," he murmured, scanning the charts. "Run full labs. Monitor vitals every hour."
He turned.
Tara was gone.
By 5:00 PM, Tara had left with Simi and Benita. But unlike her usual energetic chatter, she was quiet. Too quiet.
Benita alighted at Iyana Ipaja. Simi, sensing something, waited.
"You okay?" she asked.
Tara sighed. "I yelled at him. I called him names. I think I lost the opportunity of a lifetime."
Simi gasped. "Wait — him? As in Dr. Tayo?"
Tara nodded.
"Do you know what the nurses said about him? He’s the son of the hospital’s Director — Dr. Immanuel Adekunle," Simi said with fear for her friend.Tara froze.
The blood drained from her face. Her mother’s voice echoed in her head:
Tara, one day your mouth will put you into trouble.
And that day, it seemed, had finally come.
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