I woke with worry pressing against my heart before my eyes even opened. It was barely daybreak but my mind was already closed with panic. I sat up slowly watching a space that had never been filled by anyone but my son.

Liam slept wrapped up on his small mattress by the window, his tiny body rising and falling with gentle and slow breaths. For a moment, I just watched him, soaking in the peace I rarely felt anymore.

The night had been hard on him. His cough had returned, harsher than before, racking his small chest until tears streamed down his cheeks. I'd held him close, giving him comfort while fear eloped at me. The doctor at the clinic had warned me last month that they didn't have the equipment for emergencies so this time around, I promised myself we will be trying a new hospital. I'd prayed it would never come to that. But last night made me face the truth I couldn't keep pretending everything was fine.

I stood from the bed, my limbs heavy as I moved through the small room. I needed to get him to a better hospital today. Not tomorrow. Today.

I prepared warm water, wiped his face and hands, and tried to coax him awake with a soft voice. Liam stirred, coughing again, and that sound nearly broke me.

Mama, my chest hurts, he murmured, pressing a hand against himself.

I know, baby, I whispered, smoothing his hair. We're going somewhere that will make you feel better today. Just hold on for me.

He nodded weakly and leaned into my touch. I dressed him carefully, breathing through the tightness in my throat. I grabbed his backpack, my purse, and the little money I'd saved over the past months. It wasn't much. But I hoped it would be enough to get him checked at a real hospital in the city. I locked the door and lifted him into my arms when his legs trembled too much to walk.

The street outside was waking up slowly. Vendors opened shops. Drivers shouted destinations. I flagged down a tricycle and climbed inside, settling Liam carefully against my chest. I told the driver the name of the hospital I'd searched online—the one I prayed wouldn't turn me away.

The ride was long and filled with every terrible thought I tried to push away. I remembered the first time Liam fell sick. The panic. The long nights. The stubborn fever. I remembered telling myself I would always find a way to protect him, no matter how hard it got. I pressed a kiss to his forehead as the tricycle bounced over the road.

When we finally arrived, I stepped out and stared at the tall building towering before me. The letters above the entrance caught the morning light. Blackwood Memorial Hospital. I hoped they would help. I hoped someone in there would see more than a struggling single mother.

Inside, the building was cold, wide, and too bright. People moved around in crisp uniforms, speaking quickly into radios. I approached the reception desk, shifting Liam slightly in my arms as he coughed again.

Please, my son isn't feeling well, I said. I need a pediatrician.

The receptionist looked up, scanning my face, then the boy. She typed something into her computer and frowned.

Do you have an appointment?

No, but he's having trouble breathing. Please, we just need help.

She hesitated, then stood.

Follow me.

Relief washed through me as I followed her into a small examination room. A nurse rushed in immediately, placing a listening device against Liam's chest. The frown deepened.

He needs a specialist, the nurse said. Wait here. I'll get the doctor.

I nodded, clutching Liam's hand. Minutes passed slowly, each one stretching my nerves thinner. Then the door opened again.

The doctor is on his way, the nurse said. He's the head of this unit.

My heart thudded. I whispered a quiet thank you. I prayed he would hurry. Liam's breathing came in short, trembling bursts now. I held him close, rubbing his back, whispering comfort even though my voice was shaking.

Then the door opened.

I froze.

The world tilted for a moment, then rushed back with brutal force.

The man who stepped into the room was the last person I ever expected to see. Tall. Sharp eyes. The same eyes I had once memorized in the dark. The same eyes my son carried.

Adrian.

His gaze moved from the nurse to the child, then to me. Every trace of color seemed to drain from his face.

Rayna, he whispered.

I forced myself still, though my knees wobbled.

Doctor, the nurse said hesitantly, this is the boy in respiratory distress.

Adrian didn't move for a moment. His gaze dropped to Liam and stayed there. I saw the exact second understanding hit him. His eyes widened slightly, then hardened with fire I had prayed he would never direct at me.

He approached the bed with slow, careful steps. His voice dropped to a low command.

Get the oxygen kit. Run his vitals. Call radiology. Prepare a room.

Yes, doctor, the nurse said and rushed out.

I swallowed my fear. I should speak. I should explain. But my voice wouldn't rise past the tight pain in my chest.

Adrian touched Liam's forehead gently, his hands steady yet trembling at the edges. When he spoke, it was to the boy, not to me.

It's alright, little man. I'll take care of you.

Liam blinked up at him, his breathing shallow.

Mama, he whispered. I'm scared.

I know, baby, I said, brushing his cheek.

Adrian's eyes snapped to me. Something raw burned there—confusion, anger, hurt, disbelief. But he forced himself to focus on the child again.

I watched him and my heart cracked the way it had all those years ago. He had always been gentle with children. He had always cared deeply. And now here he was with his own son, unknowingly.

I wrapped my arms around myself as the machines were brought in. Adrian guided the nurse, setting everything up as if his mind was fighting to stay in control. When he spoke again, his voice was tight.

Rayna, step outside. I need to evaluate him properly.

No, I said immediately. I'm not leaving him.

My voice trembled, but I didn't move.

Adrian stared at me for a long moment, something storming behind his eyes. Then he let out a breath slowly.

Fine. Stay on that side. Don't interfere.

I nodded.