The next day...
At nine in the morning, Damian's condition was improving enough that he no longer needed respiratory assistance. He could sit up, but still couldn't move around much for the next few days. He was sitting comfortably in a wheelchair on the hospital terrace, watching the garden where other patients were enjoying the fresh air.
"Daddy," Daniel said from his toddler stroller, while his mother sat beside him.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart. I can't play with you," Damian replied with a faint smile.
"He'll understand," Valerie chimed in, stroking Daniel's thick and dark brown hair. "Sweetheart, Daddy is sick. He can't hold you, or you can't sit on his lap because his stomach still hurts," she continued.
Daniel fell silent, furrowing his brow, focusing on his father who still had an IV in his hand with a tube hanging from the wheelchair.
"Did Uncle Samuel hit him again?" he asked.
Valerie furrowed her brow. "Why would you think that?"
