BABY AND ME

Andrew Marquez sat by the hospital bed, his fingers trembling as he held Eury's frail hand. The beeping of the monitors filled the room, a cruel reminder of time slipping away. He had prayed, begged, and bargained for a miracle—but none came. Eury's breaths were shallow, her once-bright eyes now dim. She struggled to speak, but she tightened her grip on his hand, mustering the last of her strength. “Andrew…” Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I’m here, love.” His throat tightened, his vision blurred with unshed tears. Andrew's lips parted in a weak smile, though pain flickered in her gaze. “Take care of our daughter… Rhea.” Andrew's heart clenched. “Don’t say that. You’ll be here—you’ll watch her grow, you’ll be with us.” A tear slipped down Eury's cheek. “Promise me.” Andrew swallowed the sob threatening to break free. He bent down, pressing a trembling kiss to her lips. “I promise.” Eury exhaled softly, her body relaxing as if she had been waiting for those words. Her grip loosened, and for a moment, the room fell eerily silent. Then the monitors let out a long, unbroken beep. And Andrew's world shattered. He didn’t remember how long he sat there after they took his wife out of the ward, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t. A small hand tugged at his sleeve. “Papa?” Andrew looked up, his gaze landing on Rhea—his four-year-old daughter, clutching a stuffed rabbit to her chest. She looked up at him with innocent, tear-filled eyes, not fully understanding the weight of what had just happened. Andrew wiped his face, forcing himself to steady his voice. “Come here, baby.” Rhea climbed onto his lap, curling against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. “Where’s Mommy?” she asked. Andrew swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. Not yet. Instead, he kissed the top of her head and whispered, “She loves you very much.” Rhea nodded, clutching his shirt, and together, they sat in the quiet room—grieving, holding on to each other. The days after Eury's passing were hard. Their once lively house felt unbearably empty without Eury's laughter, without her humming in the kitchen, without the scent of her perfume lingering in the hallways. If it weren’t for his daughter, Andrew might have followed his wife long ago. But even as he lived, he felt like a dead man. He spent his days drowning in work, leaving early and coming home late, barely sparing Little Rhea more than a few words. She was only four—too young to understand why her father hardly looked at her, why he never held her the way he used to. Too young to understand why, when she reached for his hand, he always seemed to pull away. While Andrew convinced himself that keeping busy was the only way to survive. If he stopped, if he let the grief catch up to him, he feared it would swallow him whole. And years passed. Andrew finally learned to live with his grief, but it came at a cost—he couldn’t properly care for his daughter as she grew up. Then, one day, his phone rang. "Hello? Is this Mr. Andrew Marquez?" A female voice sounded on the other end of the line. "Yes. Can I help you?" Andrew answered with furrowed brows. "Your daughter—she was involved in an accident. She’s at St. Luke’s Hospital. You need to come immediately." Andrew felt like he had been dunked into ice-cold water. And in the next second, he was already behind the wheel, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the fear racing through his veins. He hurried inside the hospital, his breaths coming in short, frantic gasps as he pushed through the doors, barely registering the voices around him. "My daughter—Rhea Marquez!" he shouted at the reception desk, his voice shaking. "Where is she?" A nurse quickly pointed him to her room. Without waiting, Andrew sprinted down the hallway, his vision blurring with panic. And then—he saw her. Lying in a hospital bed, small and fragile, her body covered in bruises. Wires and tubes clung to her like chains. The steady beep of the heart monitor filled the room, but every shallow breath she took felt like a knife to Andrew's chest. His legs nearly gave out beneath him as he staggered forward. "Rhea…" his voice broke. “No… no, no, no,” he choked out, stumbling toward her. He reached for her hand—so small, so cold—and his breath hitched. The image of Eury flashed in Andrew's mind. It's the same pale skin. The same fragile body. Lying in a hospital bed just like this. Dying just like this. “No,” Andrew choked out, his entire body trembling. “Not again.” “Please, God!” He collapsed onto his knees beside the hospital bed, gripping Rhea’s tiny hand with both of his own as if his warmth alone could bring her back. His entire frame shook with the force of his sobs. “Not again, please!” he begged, his forehead pressing against her cold fingers. “Baby. Papa’s here. I’m here.” His voice cracked as he whispered, rocking slightly, his fingers lacing tightly with hers. . “I'll stay right here. I promise. Just—” His breath hitched, his chest heaving. “Just open your eyes, sweetheart.” His free hand cupped her bruised cheek, thumb stroking gently over the darkened skin, his tears falling onto her pillow. “Please, baby. Please open your eyes.” The silence felt suffocating. The rhythmic beeping of the monitor was the only thing grounding him, but even that was not enough. His heart clenched, the agony ripping him apart. “You’re all I have left, Rhea. I can’t—I can’t do this without you. Please, baby.” Andrew pressed her tiny hand against his lips, his sobs muffled against her skin. “I’ll be better. I swear to you. I’ll be a better father. Just… just open your eyes.” A second passed. Then another. The stillness was unbearable. Then— Her fingers twitched. Just barely, but enough for Andrew to freeze. His breath caught in his throat as he lifted his head, eyes darting to her face. And then, ever so slowly, Rhea’s eyelids fluttered open. A soft, broken gasp escaped Andrew’s lips. “Rhea?” Andrew called out Rhea’s glassy and weak eyes found his “Papa…?” A strangled sob tore from Andrew’s throat as he leaned over, “I’m here, baby. I’m right here,” he whispered, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief. “I…” Her voice was barely a whisper. “I love you, Papa.” Andrew let out a shuddering breath, his heart twisting painfully. “I love you, baby,” he choked, his grip on her small hand tightening. “So, so much.” He brushed damp strands of hair away from her forehead, his fingers trembling. “Hold on, okay?” he pleaded, his voice raw. “Papa’s here.” His throat burned, and his chest ached like it was caving in. “Don’t leave me, Papa,” Rhea murmured weakly. Andrew shook his head furiously, his whole body trembling. “No, no.” His voice broke. “I won’t leave. Never. I will stay right here with you—so please, baby, hold on. Stay with me.” Tears streamed down his face, his sobs barely contained. “You’re going to be okay.” His voice wavered as he forced the words out. “We’re going home, you hear me?” He swallowed thickly, his entire frame wracked with sobs. “I’ll take care of you this time,” he vowed, his breath hitching. “I won’t mess up again. I swear it, Rhea.” He pressed desperate kisses to her frail hand, his lips lingering as if he could somehow breathe life back into her. His tears soaked into her skin, each drop carrying the weight of his regret, his helplessness, his love for his daughter. “Please, my child,” he wept, his voice barely above a whisper. “You have to fight.” His fingers brushed against her bruised knuckles, his hands engulfing hers completely. “I’ll do anything—just don’t go.” His voice cracked, a painful sob tearing through him. “God, please.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his forehead pressing against her small hand. “Please don’t take her away from me.” The heart monitor beeped steadily beside them, but each sound sent a fresh wave of terror through him. Her breaths were growing shallower, weaker. Andrew clung to her like she was his lifeline, his body trembling as though sheer will alone could keep her here. “Please, baby,” he whispered against her hand, his lips brushing against her cold fingers. “Please don’t leave me.” His chest heaved, his breaths uneven. “I can’t lose you too.” His voice broke into another sob. “I can’t.” His heart pounded wildly, his entire being focused on the fragile life slipping through his fingers. “Please” His vision blurred with tears as he watched her tired eyes struggle to stay open And then, the grip on his hand loosened “No” “No, no, no! Rhea, stay with me!” Desperation clawed at his throat as he cupped her face, his thumbs brushing against her pale, cooling skin. His body trembled violently, denial gripping him like a vice. “Doctor!” he screamed, his voice raw with anguish. “Somebody help! Please!” The door burst open, and the medical team rushed in. Hands pulled at him, but he fought against them, his grip on Rhea unrelenting. “Sir, please step back,” a nurse pleaded, her voice laced with urgency. “She’s my daughter!” Andrew sobbed, his entire frame shaking. “Please—save her! Don’t let her go!” The doctor immediately began chest compressions, the room filled with frantic movement. Nurses adjusted monitors, an oxygen mask was placed over Rhea’s face, and the defibrillator was charged. “Clear!” Andrew flinched as Rhea’s small body jolted from the shock. He held his breath, clinging to the desperate hope that her eyes would open. But the machine still emitted that dreadful, continuous tone. “Again!” the doctor ordered. Another jolt. Another unbearable silence. Andrew fell to his knees, his hands pressing against his face, muffling his broken sobs. “Please, God. Please, not her. Not my baby.” Time stretched unbearably, each second an eternity of suffering. And then— A single, long beep still echoed through the room And Andrew's world collapsed once again.