Alex's world was dark at first. There was a deep, muffled silence, almost like he was underwater. Slowly, he became aware of a soft beeping nearby, and the weight of his own body pressed into the bed beneath him. His head pounded, his body felt heavy, and when he tried to move, pain shot through his left leg and ribs.
He groaned weakly, his dry throat protesting. He blinked, his vision blurry at first, but slowly the world around him came into focus. He was in a hospital room, tubes and wires connected to him. His leg was in a cast, elevated, and his arm hooked up to an IV. There was a dull ache in his chest, and he could taste blood in his mouth.
His heart lurched as the memory of the crash slammed into him. The car, Emma—Emma was in the backseat!
"Emma…" His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. Panic gripped him, and he tried to sit up, but the sharp pain in his side stopped him. His vision blurred again, and he slumped back against the pillows.
A nurse noticed his movement and quickly approached, her expression calm but concerned.
"Mr. Baker, you're awake. Try not to move too much—you've been through a serious accident."
"Emma… my son… where is she?" His voice cracked with fear, his thoughts racing. The nurse placed a hand on his shoulder, gently urging him to stay still.
"Your son is here in the hospital. He's stable, but he's being monitored in the pediatric wing. He's going to be okay, but he had a few complications. Right now, you both need to rest." Alex closed his eyes, relief mixing with anxiety. The nurse's words helped, but he needed to see Emma, to know she was really okay.
Back in the pediatric wing, Emma lay still in his hospital bed. The room was quiet, and soft light filtered through the blinds. His breathing had evened out, and the doctors had stabilized his heart rhythm with medication. His stuffed animal was tucked in beside him, its fur still a little dirty, but it made him feel safe.
He drifted in and out of sleep, his dreams fragmented. Sometimes he saw bright lights; other times, he heard voices that didn't make sense. He missed Alex, but every time he woke up, there were nurses checking on him, and he didn't have the energy to ask about his dad.
One of the nurses gently adjusted the blanket over him, noticing his slight movement. She smiled softly, whispering, "You're doing great, Emma. You're safe."
A few hours later, as both Alex and Emma rested, a doctor entered Alex's room with a clipboard. The doctor explained the extent of his injuries
"Mr. Baker… you're currently recovering from a broken leg, a concussion, and some internal bruising… but I can reassure you that your condition is stable… you'll be out of here in no time…" Alex was relieved, but he was more worried about Emma. The doctor continues.
"We'll also keep monitoring Emma," the doctor added.
"His heart rate is stable for now, but he's still weak. We'll know more in the next day or two." Alex's relief was palpable, but there was still a cloud of worry hanging over him. He needed to see Emma, to hold his hand, to tell him he was there. But for now, they both needed time to heal.
It had been days, maybe longer—Alex wasn't sure. Time had blurred together between the surgery, the medications, and the constant flow of doctors and nurses. But he had finally been cleared to move, his body still aching, his leg wrapped tightly in a cast. The hospital room where Emma was staying was just down the hall, and though he was weak, nothing could keep him from seeing his son.
A nurse helped him into a wheelchair, carefully guiding him to Emma's room. His heart pounded in his chest, not from the physical pain, but from the overwhelming need to hold Emma, to make sure he was truly okay.
"Here we are, Mr. Baker" As they approached the door, Alex's breath caught in his throat. The nurse gave him a gentle nod and pushed him inside. There, on the hospital bed, was Emma—smaller than he remembered, so fragile-looking, his chest rising and falling slowly under the covers. His face still had a few small cuts and bruises, but his color was better, and his heart monitor beeped softly and steadily.
For a moment, Alex could only stare, the weight of everything crashing over him. The room was cold with the smell of cleaner and alcohol wipes. A soft breeze blew in through the softly open window. The orange, pink, and yellow sunset shining into the room. Illuminating Alex's face.
"Emma…" Alex's voice cracked, barely above a whisper.
Emma had been drifting in and out of sleep. The soft beeping of the machines was like a lullaby, but it couldn't drown out the thoughts in his head. He missed Alex, missed the comfort of his father's presence. Even though the nurses had been kind, and Rachel had visited a few times, it wasn't the same. His chest still felt funny sometimes, but not as bad as before.
When the door to his room opened, Emma's eyes fluttered open. He blinked slowly, trying to focus, and then he saw him—Alex, his dad, in a wheelchair, looking at him with tears in his eyes.
"Dad!" Emma's voice was small, but the emotion behind it was enormous. He reached out, his small hand trembling.
Alex wheeled himself as close as he could to the bed, but it wasn't close enough. He pushed himself up, ignoring the pain in his leg, and leaned over, gathering Emma into his arms. A very tight embrace provided in silence. No words, no tears.
It wasn't just a hug—it was everything they'd both been holding in since the crash. Alex buried his face in Emma's hair, his tears mixing with the warmth of the hug. Emma clung to him, his arms wrapped tightly around his father's neck, shaking slightly as the fear and relief finally came pouring out.
"I thought… I thought I lost you," Alex whispered, his voice thick with emotion. He could feel Emma's small body trembling in his arms, and he hugged him tighter, as if holding him could keep him safe forever.
"I was scared," Emma's voice cracked, muffled against Alex's shoulder.
"I didn't know where you were… I thought you were gone."
"I'm here now, buddy. I'm here," Alex choked out. His chest felt heavy with everything he wanted to say, but for now, he just held on.
They stayed like that for what felt like forever, both of them clinging to each other, neither wanting to let go. The hospital room faded away, the machines and monitors forgotten. It was just them, together again, and that was all that mattered.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Alex gently pulled back, brushing Emma's messy hair –which had passed his shoulders in length– away from his face. He smiled through his tears, looking into his son's eyes.
"How are you feeling, champ?" Alex asked softly, his hand still resting on Emma's cheek. Emma shrugged a little, his eyes wide and serious.
"I don't like the hospital. My chest still feels weird sometimes, but it's not as bad. I just… I missed you." Alex swallowed hard, nodding.
"I missed you too. I'm so sorry, Emma. I should've been more careful that day." Emma slightly teasers up, holding his stuffed animal close.
"It wasn't your fault," Emma said, his voice small but firm. "There was nothing you could do."
Alex felt a lump rise in his throat again. For a child so young, Emma was already so mature.
"I know, but I was so scared. I couldn't protect you."
"You did, though," Emma said softly, reaching for Alex's hand.
"You always do." Alex squeezed Emma's hand, his heart swelling with pride and love.
"You're the bravest kid I know. We're going to get through this together, okay?" Emma nodded, his eyes filling with tears again, but this time they were tears of relief. He leaned in for another hug, burying his face in Alex's chest.
"I love you, Dad." Alex pats Emma's head with a calm smile.
"I love you too, buddy. More than anything," Alex whispered, his voice thick with emotion.