"Jen!!"
Her name tears out of my throat as I lunge toward her lifeless form on the floor. Panic crushes the breath out of my lungs. I don't even remember what I did with Sophie—only her piercing cries echo somewhere behind me. I might've tossed her onto the bed in my frantic rush, but my world has narrowed down to one thing. Jennifer.
"Baby... wake up, Baby..." My voice is trembling as I shake her shoulders, harder than I should. She doesn't respond. Nothing.
"Jen, please..." I whisper, my heart collapsing. My fingers hover over her nose, trembling, desperate. Then—finally—a soft stream of breath. I breathe out in sheer relief. She's alive. Barely.
I lift her into my arms, holding her like glass, and place her gently onto our bed. Her entire front is soaked—breast milk, warm and pooling on the floor where she collapsed. Her body is burning hot. Fever. A bad one. My heart sinks. She's got the virus. Damn it.
I fumble for my phone and call Peter.
"She's exposed," I tell him, urgency thick in my voice.
"To the virus?!" His usually steady tone falters.
"Yeah." I hesitate. "I think so. Sophie had a fever three days ago. Jen held her when we brought her home—she must've gotten it then."
Peter curses. I've never heard him curse before.
"Scott, you need to get her to the hospital. Immediately. She's a comorbid. This virus could be fatal for her."
The word fatal cuts through me like ice.
"Okay," I manage, barely above a whisper, and end the call.
Just then, a weak cough pulls my eyes back to her.
She stirs.
Another cough. Her eyelids flutter open, and the sight of her—pale, drenched, eyes glassy with fever—hits me harder than any blow ever has.
"Baby," I breathe, leaning close, brushing her damp hair back with trembling fingers.
But fear flashes in her eyes. She turns her head away.
"Don't…" Her voice is hoarse, almost inaudible. "I… I think I got the virus…"
"It's okay, Baby. I've got you. I'm calling for help. I'm getting you to the hospital."
She coughs again and nods weakly, her hand instinctively reaching for Sophie's tiny one. "Don't cry… Mommy's here…" she whispers through cracked lips, gently stroking our baby's fingers. Sophie quiets for a moment under her touch. But I can see Jennifer's strength fading fast.
My fingers fly across the screen as I dial Emergency Services.
"Emergency Service, what's your emergency?"
"Yes, my wife has the virus. She's a comorbid. I need an ambulance. Now." My voice is tight, desperate.
"Name, Sir?"
"Scott Bennet. We're at—" I give our address in a rush.
The next words almost knock the breath out of me.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Bennet. We can't send an ambulance right now."
"What?!" My chest tightens. "She needs a hospital! Please, she's at risk!"
"I understand, Sir," the man says gently, trying to stay calm. "It's not that we don't want to. But… we physically can't."
"Why not?!"
"Haven't you noticed the storm, Sir? It's been snowing for two days. The roads are completely blocked. No vehicle can get through. We're grounded until further notice."
I don't respond at first. My mind goes blank.
I end the call with a faint, "Thank you."
"What's wrong?" Jennifer asks me softly.
"Nothing," I reply absent-mindedly, standing up.
"Baby..." she calls out, her voice ending in a weak cough. I turn toward her.
"Where are you going?" she asks, concern flickering in her tired eyes.
"Do you need anything?"
"She's hungry," Jennifer says, glancing at Sophie, who has started to whimper again.
Right. That was why I came downstairs in the first place.
"I'll get her milk. Are you okay being left alone for a bit?"
Jennifer nods slowly, but I can tell she's trying to be stronger than she feels.
I leave the room, heading straight to the kitchen. The frozen breast milk I took earlier is already beginning to thaw. I take it and start warming it up, but my thoughts are spinning restlessly.
Unable to hold back the urge, I walk to the front door. I open it just enough to peek outside—and immediately regret it. A violent gust of wind howls into the house, bringing a brutal blast of snow that bites into my skin.
"Stupid!" I curse under my breath as I shove my weight against the door. It takes over a minute to close it again. By the time I manage to shut it, my hair and shoulders are dusted in snow, and a thin layer coats parts of the living room floor.
I brush the snow off quickly and step to the side window. My heart sinks. The man on the phone wasn't exaggerating. Snow is piled up so high it nearly swallows the tires of the four-wheel-drive jeep parked across the street—undriven and frozen in place. If even that beast of a vehicle can't move, there's no way an ambulance can make it here.
I run a hand down my face, take a breath, and return to the kitchen. The milk should be ready by now. I transfer it into the baby bottle and make my way back to the bedroom.
"You're wet," Jennifer murmurs, her voice raspy between worsening coughs.
"I'm fine. Just checked the weather." I force a smile and gently place the pacifier into Sophie's mouth. Jennifer reaches out to hold the bottle herself, but her hands tremble, and another cough shakes her body. It sounds deeper now. Rougher.
My chest tightens at the sound.
"I'm going to make you some chicken soup," I say, not asking for permission. I'm already on my way back to the kitchen before she can argue.
As I cook, my mind races. There's no chance of driving through that storm. Should I wait for it to pass? Can Jennifer even hold out that long? I don't know how bad it is—not really. I've never been this scared. Peter warned me about comorbidities, said the virus could hit her harder than most. I didn't fully understand it then, but I do now. And it's terrifying.
Fifteen minutes later, I carefully carry a bowl of hot soup back toward the bedroom. But halfway there, I hear it—
Sophie's piercing wail.
I quicken my steps, heart pounding. As I enter the room, the first thing I see is Sophie's face flushed red from crying. Milk spills down her chest, dripping from the bottle that's now tilted awkwardly in her blanket.
But then I see why.
Jennifer.
She's slumped slightly to one side, still lying on the bed. Her skin is ghostly pale. Her left hand clutches her chest, and she's gasping—each breath shorter and sharper than the last.
"Jen!!" I yell, panic surging through me. The soup bowl crashes to the floor, scalding liquid splashing against my foot—not that I even notice.
I rush to her side and lift her into my arms, holding her against my chest.
"Baby—Baby, what's wrong?!" My voice cracks.
"I... I... can't... breathe..." she gasps, her body trembling.
Everything inside me freezes.
"No!" My panic increases exponentially. "Hold on, Baby... We'll get help, okay... Hold on..." I murmur.
My brain instantly snaps into fighter jet mode. I tear up the stairs like a lightning bolt, not wasting a second. I grab the portable oxygen can I bought for Sophie, rip the seal off with trembling hands, and rush back to Jennifer. Her breaths are so shallow they're nearly invisible. I press the mask gently over her face.
"Come on, Baby… Breathe. Please breathe," I whisper, watching her chest rise just slightly with the help of the oxygen.
Moments later, I'm out on the terrace with Jennifer on my back, piggybacked against me like the most fragile cargo I've ever carried. I've wrapped her in layers—two winter jackets, a thick wool blanket, gloves, everything I could find. Her body is burning hot, yet it still feels like she's fading away in my arms.
"Please hold on, Baby… I'm gonna get you to the hospital," I whisper through clenched teeth, and shift into fighter jet mode again.
The moment I move, time seems to freeze. The storm vanishes from my senses—only thick snow clouds swirl in the air as I blur past them, my only focus: Jennifer's heartbeat.
I reach the gate and grab the snow shovel leaning there. The second I step onto the staircase leading to the front yard, the world fights back. The snow nearly swallows my legs—thigh-deep, heavy, cruel. I swing the shovel with everything I have, clearing just enough space for my next step. Then another. One more.
It feels like nothing is changing, like I'm stuck in an endless white hell. My body screams for rest, but I don't stop. I can't. Not when her heartbeat—faint and slow—is still there. Still fighting.
One beat every thirty seconds.
It's barely anything. But it's enough. It's everything.
Then, without warning—
CRACK!
My shovel splinters in half. The sound echoes like a death sentence in my ears.
"Damn it!!" I roar, throwing the handle aside. I drop to my knees and start digging with my fists. Punching the ice. Kicking through the frozen crust. My skin splits. My knuckles bleed. But I don't stop.
I don't stop.
Because suddenly... her arm slips.
I feel her body sag. Her grip around me is gone.
"No… no… no…"
Panic takes over. I shift her around into my arms, carrying her bridal style, and stumble back into the half-cleared path. Her face—
God.
Her face is so pale. Lips parted. Eyes shut.
Lifeless.
"Jen…?" I whisper.
No response.
My heart lurches in my chest. I lower one knee into the snow and frantically reach for her wrist.
No pulse.
I fumble for her neck. Nothing.
"NO! No—no—no—JENNIFER!" I scream. The sound tears out of me like something wild, broken beyond repair.
I drop to the snow and lay her down, hands trembling. I start CPR, counting the compressions out loud. My voice is cracking with every number.
"Come on, Baby… Come on!!"
I breathe into her mouth. Press her chest again. And again.
Still nothing.
"NOOO!!!"
The scream that erupts from me is not human. It's grief. Pure and raw and howling from the depths of me like my soul itself is being torn out.
I collapse over her, my forehead pressing into hers, my body shaking as sobs rip through me. My chest heaves. My heart… God, my heart can't take this.
I've lost her. I've lost her.
Then—like lightning through a storm—
A thought pierces the chaos.
A name.
Without a second's hesitation, I grab my phone. My hands are so cold I nearly drop it, but I manage to dial. I don't think. I just hope.
When the call connects, I can barely speak.
"Please…" My voice breaks into a sob. "Save her. Please…"
@@@@@ AUTHOR's NOTE@@@@@
This is the end of Season 1. so the next chapter will be the opening of Season 2
QUICK QUIZ : Can you tell who is one Scot called and what will happen ? Please leave your answer in a comment below ^_~