His Countdown Changed I Left With My Kid

Chapter 4

At ten o'clock that night, our daughter suddenly spiked a high fever. The thermometer read one hundred and three points six degrees. Her skin burned hot, her face was bright red, and she was breathing fast and shallowly.

Then her body began to twitch and jerk. Febrile seizure. I was shaking with fear. I wrapped her tight in a blanket and called emergency services right away, informing them of my daughter's condition and getting instructed on what to do, all the while I was speaking softly to calm her.

I knew the hospital was some distance away, so I called Rhys to inform him that I'd rather go there and drive Annabelle myself than wait for an ambulance to arrive.

It rang and rang before he answered. "Hello, love. I'm still at a business dinner. What is it?"

His background was quiet. Too quiet. It didn't sound like a gathering at all.

"Annabelle has had a febrile seizure! I'm taking her to the city hospital. You need to come now!" My voice cracked from fear.

There was a short silence on the other end.

"A seizure? How did this happen so suddenly? Don't panic. I'm driving to get you. Wait for me at the apartment entrance." Rhys sounded truly worried.

That small bit of reassurance steadied me a little.

Ten minutes later, Rhys pulled up outside the building.

He was wearing only a thin shirt. He looked pale as he jumped out and opened the car door for me. "Get in, quick!"

We raced through the dark streets.

Rhys kept glancing in the rear-view mirror at our daughter, who had gone limp and quiet. "How did she get this sick? Didn't you check her temperature tonight?"

There was blame in his tone, automatic and sharp, but I had no energy to argue. I just held her tight and prayed we would reach the hospital soon.

Halfway there, Rhys's phone lit up.

The name on the screen: Lana.

He glanced at it and let it ring. It stopped, then started again.

On the third time, he answered, "Hello, Lana? What is it?"

The sound came through clearly. I heard her voice, tearful and shaky. "Mr. Keaton, help… my car broke down in the country. It's so dark out here. I'm scared…"

Rhys gripped the steering wheel hard and slammed on the brakes.

The car screeched to a stop at the curb. I was thrown forward. Annabelle made a small, distressed sound in my arms.

"Where are you? Send me your location. Lock your doors. Don't get out of the car for anything!" Rhys's voice was tight with worry. Then turned to me, his face set. "Love, Lana is stranded alone in the dark. It's not safe for her out there. The main road is just ahead. You can get a taxi there to the hospital. I have to go get her."

I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. "Rhys, are you out of your mind? Annabelle is having a seizure. She could get worse at any second. You want me to stand on the side of the road in the middle of the night and hail a cab?"

"It's just a fever seizure! They'll give her medicine and she'll be fine!" Rhys's tone turned sharp and impatient. "Lana is in real danger. Be reasonable, don't make this harder than it has to be!" He leaned over and pushed my door open. Cold night air rushed in. Annabelle shivered in my arms. "Get out, you'll find a cab easily from here. As soon as I've picked Lana up, I'll go straight to the hospital."

I looked at his face, the face I knew so well, and it felt completely strange.

Above him, the number was dropping fast. Four days. Three days. Two days.

I didn't argue. I just held Annabelle tight and stepped out.

The door slammed shut behind me, and the car sped away into the dark. I stood at the intersection. The wind was cold and sharp against my face. It was the middle of the night. No taxi came.

I started running toward the hospital, carrying my daughter all the way.

When I finally reached the emergency room, the nurse looked at me and the sick child in my arms with clear sympathy.

"Where is the rest of the family? You can't be here alone, this child is very sick!"

I didn't answer. I just followed the nurse, signing papers and filling out forms.

They gave Annabelle medicine to bring down the fever. Slowly, she settled and fell asleep. I sat by her bed, watching the IV drip. Near dawn, her temperature finally dropped to normal.

I checked my phone. Nothing. No call. No message. I closed my eyes.

And somewhere in the quiet dark, the countdown above Rhys's head reached its end. Zero.

Later that morning, once we were home, I wrote out a divorce agreement. I signed it, took a photo, and sent it to him. I left a printed copy on the coffee table, took our daughter's hand, and pulled our suitcase out the door.

I closed the door gently behind me.