Melinda’s POV
It started with a cough.
Elijah had been a little warm that morning, but nothing unusual. I tucked a small bottle of medicine into his backpack and told his teacher to call me if it got worse.
They called at 2:14 p.m.
“Melinda,” the voice said, tight with panic. “He collapsed on the playground. We’ve already called an ambulance.”
The rest was noise.
I don’t remember how I got to the hospital.
I just remember the feeling: the gut-deep grip of helplessness, like something cold had wrapped around my ribs and wouldn’t let go.
I remember Elena crying in the backseat, confused, saying, “Why did he fall down? Why didn’t he wake up?”
I remember James meeting me at the ER doors, his tie half-loosened, his shirt wrinkled, his face pale like he’d sprinted here from a warzone.
