Alex locks eyes with the tiny baby boy, an instant connection forming, something that tugged at him deeper than logic or reason.
"This isn't… a gift basket-... Lemme bring it in… it's cold outside" The night air felt cooler as Alex lifted the basket. The woven handle pressed into his palm, heavier than he expected. As he pulled back the blanket, the soft scent of baby powder mixed with the cold draft that followed him inside. Alex brings the baby into the living room and wraps it up inside the basket for extra warmth.
"What's his name? Is there one?" Alex looks around and finds a tag on the side. Labeled 'Emma' and a last name was written but scribbled out. Why would someone scribble out the last name? What did they have to hide? His mind raced with questions, but every time he looked at Emma's tiny face, the questions faded into the background. All he knew now was that Emma needed him.
"His name is Emma? Why does he have a female name? Why IS his last name marked out?" Alex sighs, pulling out his phone and his thumb hovered over the '9' on his phone. But something stopped him. Could he really let go of the baby to an uncertain fate? The thought of some cold, indifferent family taking Emma in gnawed at him, twisting his gut. Alex looked back at the tiny, fragile boy—this wasn't just about calling for help, it was about giving Emma a chance
"What if they put him into a family that'll abuse him? I don't want to risk that… ugh…" Alex looks at the baby boy. Was he making the right choice? Could he really trust someone else to care for Emma, to love him like he already did? The thought of handing Emma over to a stranger made his stomach churn. What if they didn't care? What if he ended up in the kind of household Alex himself had been so desperate to escape?
"I don't want him living a bad life… how is it you pick a baby up? Hold up its head?" Alex slowly reached into the basket, his fingers brushing against Emma's tiny hands. His heart skipped a beat—Emma was so small, so fragile, it almost felt wrong to pick him up.
But when Emma stirred, whimpering in his sleep, Alex's hesitation melted. Carefully, almost reverently, he lifted the baby into his arms, cradling him close, feeling a warmth spread through his chest that he hadn't expected. For a moment, the world outside didn't matter. It was just him and this little boy, connected in a way Alex couldn't explain.
"He's… so fragile… tiny… He feels like a newborn… he is kinda wet… I hope the mother is okay…" There was silence for a moment until Emma starts whimpering before it escalates to a full on crying fit. Emma clenching his tiny hands and crying. Emma's cries pierced the air, loud and sharp. Alex's hands shook as he tried to rock him, but the wails only grew louder. His chest tightened. 'What do I do? What do I do?' he muttered, feeling his heart race alongside Emma's escalating screams.
"Ah! Uh… oh no… what is it you need, Emma?" Alex tries rocking the baby, but he keeps crying.
"What if he's hungry?? I don't have any baby food… oh no…" Alex exhales and continues rocking. The cries grew louder, echoing off the walls of the empty house. Alex's mind raced, flipping through every piece of baby advice he'd ever heard. He tried bouncing Emma, swaying back and forth, even shushing him softly—but nothing worked. His heart pounded in his chest, and he felt the panic rising like a tide. 'What do I do?' The helplessness felt suffocating, pressing in from all sides.
"This may be too much for me-"