Priya had an appointment today with Dr Sheena that she called then.
She had told Aidan she had errands.
She had not told him where she was going or why because she was not ready to hand him a confirmation of something that was still a careful, private theory.
She walked because the morning was clear and because she thought better on foot.
She was on Corso Buenos Aires, about halfway, when she saw him.
He was across the street.
Priya slowed down instinctively.
Cars moved between them, people crossing the road, scooters weaving through traffic.
Then the man turned slightly toward the streetlights.
Priya stopped walking.
Marcus.
Her stomach tightened immediately.
Marcus Webb?
“What the hell?!” Priya murmured.
Her legs immediately started moving towards his direction.
He entered a black car and Priya had to speed up immediately.
She nearly got hit by a passing scooter.
A horn blasted loudly.
“Jesus,” someone cursed at her.
She ignored it.
The black car moved deeper into traffic.
Priya crossed faster, eyes fixed ahead.
Priya crossed faster, eyes fixed ahead.
But Milan traffic swallowed the vehicle almost immediately.
By the time she reached the opposite side of the road, the car was gone.
Completely gone.
Priya stood still on the road pavement, breathing hard.
People brushed past her without noticing.
Marcus Webb.
In Milan.
“What could he be doing here?” maybe he’s not the one?
No, that was him.
She took out her phone.
She called Aidan.
It rang four times and went to voicemail.
“It’s me,” she said.
“I just saw Marcus Webb.
Corso Buenos Aires.
He got into a car…
I couldn’t follow it.
Call me back when you get this.”
She hung up.
A cold feeling settled low in her stomach.
She looked around the street, trying to see where she was at, particularly.
She wasn’t really far off, she turned and kept walking toward Dr.Sheena’s office because there was nothing else she could do right now, but the image of him stayed with her the whole way there.
“What are you doing here?” she murmured quietly.
And more importantly, who was he here with ?
Evelyn was in the living room answering emails when she heard the glass fall.
The sound shattered through the apartment, then there was silence.
A silence so wrong her body reacted before her mind did.
“Leon?”
No answer.
She stood up immediately and ran.
Leon was on the floor beside the kitchen.
One hand against his chest and broken glass of water scattered beside him.
He had been getting his own glass of water, she had told him to learn to do it himself, he was six and perfectly capable, she had been proud of him for it.
And somewhere between the cupboard and the tap something had happened and now he was on the floor and his face was wrong.
His lips had a colour she had only seen once before and she never wanted to see again”Leon.”
Her voice broke instantly.
She dropped to her knees beside him so fast it hurt.
“Baby.
Leon, look at me.”
His eyes were open.
They found her face but they were working too hard to do it, she could see the effort of it.
“Mommy,” he said.
Barely.
He was in tears immediately.
“It hurts so much,” His little voice cracked, holding Evelyn tightly.
Evelyn felt her throat tighten.
“Shh, I’ve got you, Mommy got you.”
She had her phone in her hand.
She didn’t remember picking it up.
She called the ambulance and gave the address in a voice that was completely steady because falling apart was not something she could afford in the next four minutes and her body seemed to understand that even if the rest of her didn’t.
“They’re coming, ok?” she told him.
“Three minutes.
Can you hear me?”
”Mm.”
”Keep looking at me.
Right here, Leon.”
She had her hand on his chest.
She could feel his breathing, His chest rose sharply like breathing itself was becoming difficult work, like his body was working at full capacity just to keep up with what it needed to do.
“Mommy’s here,” she said.
“I’m right here.”
His hand found her wrist.
Small fingers.
His grip was weaker than it should have been
Evelyn felt tears burn instantly behind her eyes.
“Mommy,” he whispered weakly.
“I’m here.”
”I can’t breathe properly.”
“You can,” she said softly.
“Slowly, baby.
Just slowly for me.”
The ambulance came in four minutes.
They moved quickly.
Machines, monitors, oxygen.
Her apartment suddenly became full of noise.
One paramedic crouched beside her.
“What medication is he on?” Evelyn answered immediately.
“When did symptoms begin?”
”About five minutes ago.”
”Any recent episodes?”
”Yes.”
The paramedic nodded grimly.
They transferred Leon onto the stretcher.
Leon reached for her immediately.
“Mommy.”
”I’m right here.” she answered
She rode with him.
She sat beside the stretcher and held his hand.
She watched the paramedic work.
She watched Leon’s face.
She counted his breaths without meaning to.
He was conscious the whole way.
That was what she held onto.
Dr.
Moreau met them himself when the ambulance arrived.
The second he saw Leon, his expression changed and that scared Evelyn immediately.
“Take him through now,” he told the nurses quickly.
Leon disappeared behind emergency doors.
And suddenly Evelyn was no longer moving.
Guilt nearly destroyed her.
Because it had been more than seventy-two hours.
More than seventy-two hours since Dr.
Moreau told her the review had been delayed.
Yesterday she had planned to take Leon in anyway.
She had even picked up her phone twice.
But then there had been meetings.
Supplier calls.
Damien appearing out of nowhere.
Aidan showing up again and reopening wounds she spent years trying to close.
And she told herself Leon looked better.
Just one more day, one more morning.
The thought made her stomach twist violently.
What kind of mother says one more day?