When the Call Came
1568 Words
The next morning did not begin with shouting.
It began with silence.
Prisca had not slept well. She had stayed up late again, watching clips of the masked speaker, her mind turning in circles. At some point before dawn, she drifted off on the living room couch. The television was still on mute. The curtains were half closed. A thin line of sunlight cut across the floor.
Her phone rang.
She didn’t move at first.
It rang again.
And again.
The sharp sound dragged her out of sleep. She blinked, confused, her heart already racing for no clear reason. She grabbed the phone from the table.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
Then something told her to answer.
“Hello?” Her voice was thick with sleep.
“Good morning, ma’am. This is Daniel’s school.”
Prisca sat up immediately.
“Yes? What happened?”
The teacher’s voice was calm, but too careful.
“Daniel collapsed during playtime. He was playing football with his classmates. We’ve rushed him to St. Mary’s Hospital. The ambulance just left five minutes ago.”
Prisca didn’t hear the rest.
“Collapsed?” she repeated. “What do you mean collapsed? He was fine this morning!”
“We’re not sure yet, ma’am. The nurse checked him, and he wasn’t responding properly, so we decided not to take chances.”
Prisca was already on her feet.
Her hands shook so badly she almost dropped the phone.
“I’m coming,” she said quickly, and ended the call before the teacher could say more.
For one second she stood still in the middle of the room.
Then panic hit.
She didn’t change clothes. She didn’t brush her hair. She grabbed her handbag and car keys and ran out of the house.
Her heart pounded hard against her ribs.
Daniel wasn’t sick.
He had eaten that morning.
He had laughed.
She saw his face in her mind — smiling, asking for more bread before school.
Nothing was wrong.
Nothing was wrong.
So why did he collapse?
Her thoughts began running wild.
Was it something he ate?
Did he hit his head?
Did someone push him?
Her breath became shallow.
The drive to the hospital felt endless. Every red light felt like an insult. She kept checking the time, tapping the steering wheel, whispering under her breath.
“Nothing will happen to my son. Nothing will happen to my son.”
She didn’t even realize she was crying until she tasted salt on her lips.
When she reached St. Mary’s Hospital, she parked carelessly and rushed inside.
The school nurse was waiting near the reception.
“He’s in Room 204,” the nurse said quickly. “They’re checking him now.”
Prisca didn’t wait to hear anything else.
She ran down the corridor, her heels clicking loudly against the floor.
When she pushed open the hospital room door, her heart nearly stopped.
Daniel lay on the bed.
Still, too still.
An oxygen mask rested lightly over his face. His small chest rose and fell slowly.
Her legs felt weak.
She rushed to his side.
“Daniel?” Her voice broke. “Daniel, baby, mummy is here.”
He didn’t answer.
Tears fell freely now.
“He wasn’t sick,” she whispered to no one in particular. “He wasn’t sick this morning.”
The nurse inside the room spoke gently. “Please, ma’am, let the doctor examine him properly. We’re still running tests.”
Prisca nodded but didn’t move away from the bed.
Her hands shook as she touched Daniel’s arm.
It felt warm.
That was good, right?
Warm meant alive.
She fumbled for her phone.
Gabriel.
Her fingers trembled as she dialed his number.
He answered on the second ring.
“Prisca?”
Her voice broke instantly. “Daniel collapsed in school. They rushed him to St. Mary’s. I’m here. I don’t know what’s wrong.”
There was silence for one second.
Then Gabriel’s voice changed.
“I’m coming.”
He didn’t ask questions.
He didn’t argue.
The line went dead.
At his office, Gabriel shut down his system without even saving his work. Papers remained scattered on his desk. He grabbed his car keys and left immediately.
He didn’t inform anyone.
He didn’t think.
His son.
Nothing else mattered.
As he drove, his jaw tightened.
Daniel was strong, active and healthy.
He dressed the boy himself every morning. Checked his uniform. Fixed his tie.
Prisca handled breakfast.
That was their routine.
Nothing had seemed wrong.
So how could he collapse?
His mind jumped to the worst possibilities.
Heart problem?
Hidden illness?
Something inherited?
His grip tightened on the steering wheel.
Not again.
He couldn’t handle another hospital crisis.
Not after everything he had gone through during sandra's time.
When Gabriel arrived at the hospital, he moved fast through the corridors. Nurses stepped aside when they saw his face. His expression was hard, controlled, but his eyes were burning.
He pushed and opened the door to Room 204.
Prisca was standing beside the bed, crying quietly.
Daniel lay there, small and pale against the white sheets.
Gabriel froze for half a second.
Then he walked to the bed slowly.
“Daniel,” he said softly.
His son’s eyelids fluttered slightly but didn’t open.
Gabriel swallowed.
He reached down and adjusted the blanket instinctively, like he did every night at home.
“What did the doctor say?” he asked without looking at Prisca.
“I—I haven’t seen the doctor yet,” she admitted, wiping her tears. “They’re still running tests.”
Gabriel’s head snapped toward her.
“You haven’t seen the doctor?”
“They took him in immediately. They said to wait.”
His jaw tightened.
He didn’t shout.
He didn’t blame.
But something in his silence made Prisca shrink slightly.
Gabriel stepped closer to the bed.
“I dressed him this morning,” he said quietly. “He was fine.”
Prisca nodded quickly. “I know. He ate well also.”
Gabriel looked at his son’s face.
His chest rose slowly under the oxygen mask.
The steady beep of a machine filled the room.
It felt too familiar.
Hospitals, machines and uncertainty.
For a moment, a memory flashed in his mind.
Another hospital room.
Another bed.
Another woman lying still.
He pushed the memory away.
Not now.
This was his son.
Prisca paced the small room.
“What if he has some hidden sickness we didn’t know about?” she said nervously. “What if it’s something serious?”
Gabriel’s eyes didn’t leave Daniel.
“Let’s wait for the doctor,” he replied.
His voice was calm.
Too calm.
But inside, fear was rising like a storm.
He leaned down and touched Daniel’s hair gently.
“I’m here,” he whispered.
Prisca watched him.
And for a strange moment, she felt something twist inside her chest.
Gabriel had always been like this with the children.
Present, attentive, and protective.
Even when everything else in his life felt messy, he showed up for them.
She had once believed that would be enough.
Now she wasn’t sure.
Minutes felt like hours.
Neither of them spoke much.
The silence between them felt heavy, thick with unspoken things.
Finally, footsteps approached the door.
Prisca turned immediately.
Gabriel straightened.
The door opened slowly.
A doctor in a white coat stepped inside, holding a file.
He looked serious.
But not panicked.
Gabriel studied his face carefully, trying to read it before he spoke.
“Are you Daniel’s parents?” the doctor asked.
“Yes,” they both answered at the same time.
The doctor nodded once.
He glanced at the file in his hand.
Then at Daniel.
Then back at them.
Prisca’s fingers dug into her handbag strap.
Gabriel’s heart pounded, but his face remained steady.
The doctor took one slow step forward.
“There are a few things we need to discuss,” he said carefully.
The room felt suddenly smaller.
Prisca’s breath caught.
Gabriel’s mind braced for impact.
And just as the doctor opened the file—
The machine beside Daniel beeped louder, sharp and different.
Prisca gasped.
Gabriel’s head snapped toward the monitor.
The doctor’s expression changed slightly.
“Excuse me,” he said quickly, stepping toward the bed.
The beeping grew faster.
Prisca felt her knees weaken.
“Doctor?” she whispered.
Gabriel moved closer to his son instinctively.
The doctor pressed a button, adjusting something on the machine.
A nurse rushed in behind him.
The room filled with quick movements.
Controlled, but urgent.
Gabriel’s chest tightened painfully.
Not again, not my child again.
Prisca began to cry harder now.
“What’s happening? What’s happening?” she kept asking.
No one answered immediately.
The doctor focused on Daniel.
The machine finally steadied.
The beeping returned to its earlier rhythm.
The nurse adjusted the oxygen mask carefully.
After a tense few seconds, the doctor turned back to them.
His face was calm again.
But serious.
“We need to talk,” he said firmly.
Prisca felt the ground shift beneath her.
Gabriel nodded once.
“We’re listening.”
The doctor closed the file slowly.
And that was where everything changed.
But he hadn’t spoken the words yet.
And in that small hospital room—
With machines humming.
With fear sitting between husband and wife.
With a child lying silent on a bed—
The future waited heavy.
And dangerously close to breaking.
- Writer
