Chapter 3 - The Hospital Room
The pediatric intensive care unit on the fourth floor of Children’s Hospital Colorado was bathed in the soft, rhythmic hum of heart monitors and IV pumps.
At 2:15 a.m., I sat in a comfortable armchair beside Ethan’s bed, holding his small, warm hand in mine. His dark eyelashes rested against his pale cheeks, and a thin plastic cannula supplied oxygen under his nose. His tiny chest rose and fell with a steady, peaceful cadence that was the only music I cared to hear in this world.
The door to the room swung open quietly.
Dr. Sarah Lin, the pediatric cardiologist who had led the team that saved Ethan's life, stepped inside carrying a digital chart. She looked tired, her dark hair tied back in a messy bun, but her warm brown eyes offered immediate comfort.
"How is our little warrior doing, Audrey?" Sarah asked softly, pulling up a stool to the opposite side of the bed and checking Ethan's vital signs.
"His temperature has been stable for four hours," I murmured, lightly smoothing a lock of Ethan's brown hair away from his forehead. "His heart rate hasn't spiked above eighty-five."
"His latest echocardiogram looks remarkably clear," Sarah said, showing me the dynamic images on her screen. "The inflammation in his myocardium is subsiding rapidly. The damage from the cardiac arrest appears to be minimal, thanks to the immediate CPR his teacher performed before the paramedics arrived. He’s going to make a full recovery, Audrey."
A silent tear slipped down my cheek, catching the dim green light of the heart monitor. "Thank you, Sarah. You and your team... I can never repay you."
"You already did," Sarah smiled gently. "Lennox Meridian just funded our pediatric cardiology research wing for the next decade. But I’m not asking as his doctor now, Audrey. I’m asking as your friend. How are you holding up? Did Graham come?"
I let out a soft, bitter breath. "He came home an hour ago. With Celeste."
Sarah froze, her hands stopping on the tablet screen. "You're joking."
"He was wearing snow boots and complaining about the house being dark," I said, staring at my son’s sleeping face. "He didn't know Ethan was sick until I told him. He thought I was throwing a tantrum because he missed my calls."
"That miserable, arrogant bastard," Sarah whispered, her professional composure slipping into pure indignation. "Did he even ask to come to the hospital?"
"He didn't have time," I replied. "By the time he realized Ethan was alive, his CFO had walked through the door to tell him his company had been seized by my asset management firm. He's currently standing on the street outside our house, realizing that the life he built was an illusion."
Sarah looked at me with deep respect. "I always knew you were smarter than him, Audrey. Every time he came to hospital charity galas and gave those long, pompous speeches about 'revolutionizing human health,' you stood in the corner with a polite smile, making sure the real work got done."
"I let him play the hero because I thought it made him happy," I admitted, my voice catching in my throat. "I thought if he felt powerful, he would be a good father. I sacrificed my own identity, my career, my family's name, just to give him a stage to shine on. And while I was doing that, he was spending my money to take another woman to watch the lights in Alaska."
Ethan stirred slightly on the bed, his tiny fingers tightening around mine.
"Mommy?" he whispered, his eyes fluttering open slowly.
I immediately leaned over the bed, pressing a gentle kiss against his temple. "I'm right here, my sweet boy. Mommy's right here."
Ethan looked around the dim room, his confused eyes scanning the medical equipment before resting on my face. "Is Daddy here?"
My heart squeezed tightly in my chest, a cold ache spreading through my ribs. "No, sweetheart. Daddy isn't here."
"Did he see the Northern Lights?" Ethan asked softly, his voice tiny and fragile. "He said he was going to take pictures of the green sky for me."
Tears spilled over my eyelashes, but I forced a warm, beautiful smile onto my face so my son wouldn't see my pain.
"He didn't bring any pictures, Ethan," I murmured, smoothing his hair. "But you and I... when you get better, we're going to travel the world. We'll go to Norway, and Iceland, and New Zealand. We'll see all the lights together. Just you and me."
Ethan smiled weakly, his heavy eyelids drooping as the exhaustion of his recovery pulled him back down toward sleep. "Just you and me, Mommy. I love you."
May you like
"I love you more than the moon and all the stars, my sweet boy," I whispered.
Within minutes, his breathing deepened into a restful sleep. I pulled his blue blanket higher around his shoulders, holding his hand against my cheek as the sun began to paint the Denver skyline in soft, cold shades of pink and gold.
