Chapter 4 | Mimi’s Fever
1037 Words
Cassie's POV
The building was too quiet at 2AM.
I wasn’t sleeping.
My shop’s rent paper was on my table. “FINAL NOTICE” naka-red. Permanent marker. 2 months left. Then out.
Then I heard it.
A thud.
From 4B.
Then nothing.
“Dante?” I whispered to my ceiling.
Stupid. He can’t hear me. He never does.
I sat up. Listened.
Another sound. Small.
A cough.
A kid’s cough.
Wet. Scared.
Mimi.
I was out of my door in 30 seconds.
Bare feet. Oversized shirt. No bra. Hair a mess.
I didn’t care.
I knocked. Hard.
No answer.
“Mimi? Dante?”
Silence.
Then a voice. Low. Broken. Like glass.
“Go away, Cassie.”
Dante.
I tried the knob.
Unlocked.
I pushed the door open.
The apartment was dark. Only the fridge light. Blue and cold. The floor was still damp from the faucet yesterday. It smelled like water and fear.
“Dante?”
“In the couch.”
I found him.
On his knees.
Mimi in his arms.
She was burning.
Her face was red. Hair stuck to her forehead with sweat. She was shivering even though she was hot. Her lips were dry. Cracked.
“She won’t wake up,” Dante said.
His voice was not grumpy.
It was scared.
Raw.
“She’s been like this for an hour.”
I knelt. Put my hand on Mimi’s forehead.
39.5°C. Maybe higher. My hand was shaking.
“We need to go to the ER. Now.”
“I don’t have—”
“Don’t,” I cut him off. Sharp. Because there was no time for this. “No pride. Not now. Not with her.”
He looked at me.
His eyes were red. Not from sleep. From panic. From three years of holding everything alone.
“I can’t lose her,” he said.
It wasn’t a line. It was a confession.
“You won’t,” I said.
And I meant it. With everything in me.
“Give her to me.”
He hesitated. For one second. His arms tightened around her like letting go meant losing her.
Then he did.
Mimi was light. Too light.
She clung to me, even half-asleep. Her small hands fisted my shirt.
“Ate Cass… cold…”
“I know, baby. We’re going to the doctor. Okay? I’ve got you.”
Dante grabbed his keys. His wallet.
Empty.
I saw it.
I grabbed my bag. 800 pesos from the hotel order. Crisp. All I had. Rent money. Electricity money. Food money.
“Car?” I asked.
“No.”
“Then we run.”
We went down 4 floors.
I carried Mimi.
Dante carried the fear. It was heavier.
The night air was cold. It bit my bare legs. A tricycle passed, slow. I flagged it with my free hand.
“Hospital. St. Luke’s. Bilis po.”
The driver looked at Mimi. Then at us. At my shirt. At Dante’s face.
“Sige, anak.”
In the tricycle, Dante sat frozen. Back straight. Hands on his knees like if he moved, he’d break.
Mimi on my lap, my jacket over her. My hand on her back, rubbing circles.
“Talk to her,” I said to Dante.
“What?”
“Her name. Say her name. She needs to hear you.”
He looked at her. Really looked. And his walls broke. All of them. At once.
“Mimi. Anak. I’m here. Don’t you dare leave me. Okay? Don’t you dare. Not you.”
His voice cracked on the last word.
Mimi’s eyes opened a little. Glassy.
“Daddy…”
“I’m here,” he said again. Fierce. Desperate. “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
We reached the ER in 12 minutes. It felt like 12 years.
The nurse took her temperature. 39.8°C.
“Viral fever. Dehydrated. We’ll admit her for observation.”
Dante went pale. All the color left him.
“How much?”
“Deposit 3,000. Balance after.”
He didn’t have it.
I knew.
I stepped forward. Before my brain could stop me.
“I’ll pay the deposit. Here.”
I put the 800 pesos down. All of it.
“Can I pay the rest tomorrow? She’s a kid. Please.”
The nurse looked at me. Then at Dante. At his face. Then at Mimi, small in the bed.
“Fine. But tomorrow morning. Or we discharge.”
“Thank you,” Dante said.
It was the second time tonight.
They took Mimi to a bed. IV. Meds. Cold hands.
Dante sat by her bed. He didn’t let go of her hand. Not once. His thumb kept moving over her knuckles.
I sat on the other side.
Hours passed.
The hospital was loud and quiet at the same time.
At 5AM, Mimi’s fever broke.
38.2°C.
She drank water. She looked at me. Her eyes were clear again.
“Ate Cass… you stayed?”
“Always,” I said.
And I didn’t know I meant it until I said it. Until it was too late to take back.
She fell asleep again. Small smile.
Dante finally looked at me. Really looked. Not through me. At me.
“You used your rent money.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s 5,” I said. My voice was hoarse. “And you’re her dad. And I’m her neighbor.”
I didn’t say: Because you looked like you were drowning.
He didn’t say anything for a long time. The machines beeped.
Then: “I’ll pay you back. Every peso.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
I shook my head. “You can cook me dinner instead. When she’s better.”
That got him.
His mouth opened. Closed. Like he didn’t know the words.
“You don’t—”
“I do,” I said. “I want to.”
The sun came up. Orange through the window.
Mimi slept.
And Dante Morales, the man who said “I didn’t ask you to,” didn’t tell me to leave.
He just moved his chair closer to mine.
Metal scraping on the floor. Loud in the quiet.
So we could both watch her breathe.
End of Chapter 4
- Writer
