Chapter 5 - THE FRAGILE SPARKThe hospital corridor had never felt so long.
I didn't care about the blood on my knuckles. I didn't care about the whispers of the nurses as I strode back through the emergency doors with Ryan flanking me. I pushed open the doors to the neonatal intensive care unit like a man walking into a execution chamber.
Dr. Lawson was standing by a small, clear plastic incubator surrounded by flashing monitors and humming life-support machinery.
She looked exhausted, her surgical cap askew, her mask pulled down around her neck.
As I approached, she slowly stepped aside to let me look through the glass.
Inside lay a human being so impossibly small it looked like a doll carved from porcelain and rose petals. Tubes no thicker than a pencil were taped to paper-thin skin. A tiny chest rose and fell in jerky, mechanical gasps supported by a ventilator.
“Is it...” I couldn't finish the word. My throat felt like it was full of glass.
“A girl,” Dr. Lawson said softly, her voice carrying a deep, professional exhaustion. “Sixteen weeks premature delivery means severe underdeveloped lungs. She’s fighting, Mr. Callahan. She has your stubbornness. But she’s currently on maximum life support.”
I pressed my palm against the cold plastic of the incubator. The tiny baby inside moved a microscopic fist, curling her fingers as if trying to grasp something in the void.
“And Hannah?” I asked, not daring to look away from the child.
May you like
Dr. Lawson hesitated. “Your ex-wife made it through the surgery, but her body was already running on empty. She’s in a medically induced coma in room 347. Her kidneys are struggling. We’re doing everything we can, but honestly... she has to want to wake up. And right now, her vitals indicate she’s slipping away.”
I turned away from the incubator, my expression dark as a winter storm. “Take me to her room.”
