Across the hospital, in another wing, Brenda sat by her son Steve’s bed, her hands trembling as she stroked his hair. Machines beeped steadily, a stark reminder of the fragility of his life.
“Come on, baby,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “Hang in there, my boy. I’ll do anything to fight for you. Just hang in there, for Mommy. Please.”
Steve’s frail chest rose and fell erratically, and Brenda bit back a sob as she dialed Ryan’s number again. The line rang endlessly, but there was no answer. Her desperation boiled over, and she threw the phone onto the empty chair beside her.
When a seizure overtook Steve moments later, Brenda screamed for help, clutching his hand as nurses rushed in. Tears streamed down her face as she watched helplessly, begging the universe for a miracle.
***
Hours later, the doctor approached, his expression grim. “Mrs. Adams, I’m sorry. We’ve done everything we can, but without the payment for a… his chances are very low.”
The words knocked the breath from Brenda’s lungs. “No,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You can’t… you have to keep trying.”
“We’ll do our best to keep him stable,” the doctor said softly.
As he walked away, Brenda turned back to Steve, collapsing into the chair beside him. Her shoulders shook as she cried into her hands. “Mommy won’t give up on you. I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
***
Later that night, Brenda ventured to the hospital cafeteria for coffee, her face pale and tear-streaked. As she turned a corner, her steps faltered.
Ryan was in the hallway outside the ER, standing close to Amelia. His hand rested lightly on her shoulder as they spoke in low tones, and the easy way they leaned toward each other made Brenda’s stomach churn.
Ryan handed Amelia a tissue, and she dabbed at her eyes, her expression softening as he said something that made her nod.
Brenda’s knuckles whitened as she gripped the coffee cup. Watching them together felt like a fresh wound reopening. He’d been ignoring her calls while supporting her.
Her vision blurred with tears as she stumbled back toward Steve’s room. She stared at her son, his tiny form dwarfed by the machines around him, and her resolve hardened.
If Ryan wouldn’t help willingly, she’d force him to. Her son’s life depended on it.