Scented Claudia

I woke to the sound of Sebastian crying.

At first it was just a whimper, the kind he usually made when he had a bad dream.

I didn't even open my eyes right away, mumbling groggily, "Sebi, come here, baby."

But he didn't crawl into my bed like usual.

Instead, the whimper turned into a pitiful sob.

My eyes snapped open.

I sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp.

The light spilled over him where he sat hunched at the foot of his own small bed next to mine.

His hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat.

"Mommy…" His voice was tiny, cracking.

I rushed over and put my hand on his face and felt the heat radiating off his skin.

He was burning up.

My stomach dropped.

"Sebastian. Baby. Look at Mommy."

He didn't even focus on me.

His eyes were glassy, his breathing too fast.

My heart was pounding in my ears.

I forced my hands to stop shaking as i felt for his pulse and tried to remember everything Raphael ever taught me about fevers and warning signs.

This was too high.

"Okay. Okay. It's okay," I whispered, even though i was anything but calm.

I scooped him up in my arms, struggling to hold his weight.

He was heavier now, all five years of him, legs dangling limply.

He whimpered against my shoulder.

"Shh, Sebi, Mommy's got you. It's okay. I'm here."

I didn't bother changing out of my sleepwear.

I only grabbed my wallet and phone, slinging my bag over my shoulder while holding him tight.

My condo building was quiet at this hour.

I ran through the lobby bareface, ignoring the shocked security guard who rushed to open the door.

"Ma'am, your car—"

"Get it ready, please!" I shouted.

I was already fumbling for my keys.

He sprinted ahead to the parking slot.

I managed to buckle Sebastian into the back seat while he whimpered, limp and sweaty, mumbling nonsense words.

"Stay with Mommy. Please, baby, please stay awake."

I got behind the wheel, started the engine with shaking hands, and tore out of the parking lot.

The roads were blessedly empty.

I ran every red light i could get away with, hazards flashing.

I kept glancing at him in the rearview mirror, tears streaming down my face.

He looked so small, slumped in his seat, face flushed red.

"Hold on, Sebi. I'm here. I'm here."

When i screeched into the hospital's private ER entrance, an orderly rushed over at once.

"Emergency. High fever. He's five—please help us!" I sobbed.

They unbuckled him, transferred him onto a gurney.

"Ma'am, please follow us."

I ran after them, heart in my throat.

Inside, the lights were painfully bright.

Machines beeped.

Nurses worked quickly around us.

"Vitals—39.9°C. Drowsy, irritable," one called out.

"BP's stable but elevated."

"Start IV fluids, call pedia."

They laid Sebastian on the small hospital bed.

He whimpered at the touch of cold sheets.

"Mommy…" His voice was so weak it broke something in me.

"I'm right here, Sebi. Mommy's here."

One of the nurses gently guided me to the side. "We're going to help him. Please let us work."

I was gripping his tiny hand until they made me let go.

I backed away a single step, sobbing silently, my hands pressed over my mouth.

"Call the on-duty attending," someone said.

And then the door opened.

A new figure strode in.

Clipboard in hand.

Confident. Calm.

He didn't even look up at first as he spoke: "What's the case?"

My heart stopped.

Raphael.

Of course he would be here.

He always said he wanted to stay connected to emergency work, no matter how busy he got.

He was wearing scrubs, hair slightly mussed from hours on shift, stethoscope draped carelessly around his neck.

I felt frozen.

"Five-year-old boy," the nurse reported. "High-grade fever, decreased responsiveness."

He nodded curtly.

"Name?"

"Sebastian Blair Araneta."

He went completely still.

Slowly, his eyes lifted from the chart and met mine.

Everything in the room seemed to stop.

He didn't speak.

Didn't even breathe.

My chest constricted painfully.

He turned back to Sebastian's chart, but his fingers were white-knuckled on the clipboard.

"Push fluids," he said roughly. "Get labs—CBC, blood culture. Paracetamol suppository. I want a chest X-ray stat. Urinalysis."

"DOC, parents need to sign consent."

He held out the form to me with a trembling hand.

I grabbed it, my own fingers shaking so badly icould barely hold the pen.

He didn't say anything while i signed.

When i finished, our eyes met again.

His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, meant only for me.

"Is he mine?"

My throat closed.

I couldn't breathe.

Tears spilled over.

I nodded.

Raphael's face crumpled. Just for a second.

He closed his eyes tightly, fighting it.

When he opened them again, they were wet but furious.

"How old is he?"

"Five," I whispered, voice cracking.

His eyes dropped to Sebastian again.

His expression was raw.

Pained.

He turned away, swiping a hand over his eyes.

I heard him let out a shuddering breath.

Then he was back at the bedside in an instant, his big hands dwarfing our son's small arm as he gently felt for a pulse, checked his breathing.

"Hey. Hey, buddy. Stay with me." His voice cracked again. "Daddy's here."

"Daddy…?" Sebastian mumbled weakly, blinking at him.

Raphael visibly swallowed a sob.

"Yeah. Daddy's here, okay? You're gonna be okay."

I collapsed into the chair, shaking.

Watching them.

Sebastian clinging weakly to Raphael's finger.

Raphael's tears dripping onto the bedsheet as he murmured words of comfort.

I covered my mouth, sobbing.

All the years i thought i was protecting them both.

All i'd really done was steal this moment from them for so long.

I heard Raphael's voice, cracked and low.

"You don't get to decide that for me," he said, not even looking at me.

I pressed my forehead to my knees and wept harder.

For a while no one spoke.

The machines beeped steadily.

The nurses moved carefully around them.

Raphael didn't let go of Sebastian's hand.

Didn't even look at me again.

I couldn't blame him.

I felt like the worst kind of monster.

I thought i was saving him from choosing between his dream and me.

But all i'd really done was make the choice for him.

And now i didn't know if i'd ever be forgiven.