Chapter 4
The lights in the ER were a blinding, sterile white. The nurse took Sophie's temperature. It was 103.6°F. She needed an IV immediately.
Emily held Sophie tight in the observation room, watching as the nurse slid the needle into her daughter's tiny vein. As the little girl wailed for her mother, screaming that it hurt, Emily's own tears began to fall like rain.
"Mommy's here, baby. I'm right here," Emily whispered, hugging Sophie tight and kissing her forehead over and over.
Eventually, Sophie cried herself out and drifted off to sleep, her face still streaked with tears. Emily held her like that, motionless, sitting there through the entire night.
At one point, a nurse came by to change the IV drip and asked if she wanted to get the child something to eat.
It was only then that Emily remembered she didn't have a cent of her own on her.
The money the man had given her had almost entirely gone toward the registration and medical fees. She had just enough left for a carton of milk and a pack of crackers.
She bought the milk and coaxed Sophie into taking a few sips. Sophie drank half the carton and fell back asleep.
Emily slumped back in the chair, staring at the sky outside as it slowly brightened.
A wave of bone-deep exhaustion hit her. It wasn't just physical but in her soul. She was so worn out she didn't want to think or move. She just wanted to close her eyes and never wake up.
Her phone had died at some point, and she had no idea what time it was.
Around seven or eight in the morning, the hallways began to hum with activity.
Emily glanced down at Sophie, who was still fast asleep, and a sudden resolve took hold of her.
She couldn't go back. That place, and Michael, weren't worth another second of her life.
She could handle being treated like a doormat; she could handle being walked all over. But not Sophie.
Sophie shouldn't grow up in a house like that—watching her mother be ignored, watching her father live with another woman, watching her home rot from the inside out.
Sophie deserved better. Even if it was just the two of them, it was better than wallowing in the mud with him.
Just as the thought crossed her mind, a commotion broke out at the end of the hall. There was a flurry of footsteps, voices rose, and a nurse called out, "Sir, you can't go in there."
Then, a familiar figure appeared in the doorway.
Michael stood in the doorway, melting snow still clinging to his hair. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like he hadn't slept a wink.
He scanned the observation room until his gaze finally landed on her and the small, fragile bundle that was Sophie.
He strode over and stood over them, glancing down at his wife and daughter.
Emily looked up at him, but she didn't say a word.
Michael's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. His voice was so raspy it was barely recognizable. "Where... where did you go last night? I've been looking for you everywhere. I called all night..."
Emily didn't answer. She just lowered her eyes to Sophie, still asleep in her arms.
Michael followed her gaze. He saw his daughter's deathly pale face, the IV needle taped to the back of her tiny hand, and the way she tossed and turned, mumbling in her sleep with her brow furrowed in pain.
Suddenly, he dropped to a crouch and reached out to touch her cheek. Emily pulled back instinctively.
His hand froze in mid-air, hung there for a few seconds, and then slowly retreated.
"Emily..." he whispered, his voice carrying a weight she had never heard before. "I messed up last night. I shouldn't have said those things. The more I thought about it, the more I panicked. I was terrified something had happened to you both."
Emily remained silent.
"Come home with me," he pleaded. "Let's just go back and make things right, okay?"