Chapter 9 - The Night I Thought I Lost Her Too
I reached the hospital in sixteen minutes.
I don't remember most of the drive.
I remember red lights.
I remember gripping the steering wheel.
I remember thinking the same sentence over and over.
Not Sophie too.
Not Sophie too.
Not Sophie too.
The emergency department was controlled chaos.
A nurse recognized me.
“She's in four.”
I moved toward the room.
The nurse blocked me.
“Wait.”
“I'm her emergency contact.”
That wasn't technically true.
Not yet.
But I said it anyway.
“She asked for you.”
My heart nearly stopped.
The nurse stepped aside.
Sophie was shaking beneath two blankets.
Her face was flushed.
An IV bag hung above her.
Another line ran into her other arm.
She looked at me.
“You drive too fast.”
I almost laughed.
Instead, I took her hand.
“You scared me.”
“Good.”
“What?”
“Maybe you'll develop normal emotions.”
Even sick, she could still do that.
I squeezed her fingers.
Dr. Brooks entered.
“She developed neutropenic fever.”
I knew enough to understand that was dangerous.
“How dangerous?”
“We're treating aggressively.”
“Is the chemotherapy causing it?”
“Her immune system is suppressed.”
Sophie closed her eyes.
Dr. Brooks continued.
“Antibiotics are running now.”
“What happens if they don't work?”
Sophie opened her eyes.
“Ethan.”
“I need to know.”
Dr. Brooks answered carefully.
“We watch her closely.”
That was not an answer.
It was the kind doctors gave when the real answer was frightening.
I stayed beside Sophie all night.
At midnight, her temperature rose again.
At one, she vomited.
At two, her blood pressure dropped.
At two-fifteen, three nurses entered at once.
I was pushed into the hallway.
The door closed.
And there it was again.
The helplessness.
The thing I had been running from since the first miscarriage.
I couldn't give an order.
I couldn't create a contingency plan.
I couldn't negotiate with biology.
Captain Reese arrived at three.
I stared at him.
“What are you doing here?”
“You missed three calls from me.”
I hadn't even noticed.
He sat beside me.
Neither of us spoke.
Finally, he said, “You look terrible, sir.”
“She could die.”
The sentence came out before I could stop it.
Reese nodded.
“Yes.”
I turned toward him.
No false reassurance.
No empty promise.
Just yes.
It helped more than I expected.
“I left her.”
“I know.”
“I deleted her messages.”
“I know.”
“I asked for the divorce.”
He looked at me.
“Are you trying to tell me you're responsible for cancer?”
“No.”
“Then stop making her illness about your punishment.”
I stared at him.
He leaned forward.
“If she gets through tonight, she doesn't need a colonel trying to rewrite the past.”
His voice softened.
“She needs Ethan.”
At 4:27, the door opened.
Dr. Brooks stepped into the hallway.
I stood.
She removed her mask.
“The antibiotics are working.”
My knees nearly gave out.
May you like
Then she added, “But we need to talk about the treatment plan.”
I knew by her expression that the next battle had already begun.
