Isabella's Point of view
The apartment was quiet, the only sounds the faint ticking of the clock and the occasional rustle of Mateo shifting in his sleep beside me. I stared at the ceiling, my mind a tangled mess of thoughts. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that had settled in my chest. The man at the bar, his eyes, the way he had looked at me all felt wrong. But what could I do? He'd saved my job, and for that, I have to be grateful. Even if something about him made me want to run in the opposite direction.
I was just starting to drift off, my body finally giving in to the exhaustion of the day, when I felt Mateo stir beside me. At first, I thought he was just having a restless dream, but then he let out a small whimper, and I turned to him, my heart immediately sinking.
"Mateo?" I whispered, reaching out to touch his forehead. The moment my hand made contact with his skin, I felt a jolt of panic. He was burning up.
"Mama!" I called out, louder this time, fear rising in my chest. "Mama, wake up!"
The door to our room creaked open, and my mother appeared in the doorway, her face pale and worried. "Isabella, what is it?"
"It's Mateo," I said, my voice trembling. "He's got a fever. He's really hot."
My mother hurried over to us, her eyes wide with concern as she touched Mateo's forehead. "Dios mío, he's burning up," she murmured, her voice thick with worry. "We need to bring down his temperature."
She didn't need to say more. I knew what we had to do. We couldn't afford to take him to a hospital, not with the little money we had. We'd barely be able to pay for next week's groceries, let alone a doctor's visit. So we had to do what we could, right here at home.
"Isabella, go get some cold water and a cloth," my mother instructed, her voice steady despite the panic I could see in her eyes. "We need to cool him down."
I nodded quickly, trying to push down the rising fear in my chest. I rushed to the small kitchen and filled a basin with cold water, grabbing a clean cloth from the drawer. My hands were shaking as I carried it back to the bedroom, but I forced myself to focus. Mateo needed me. I can't fall apart now.
My mother took the cloth from me and dipped it into the water, wringing it out before gently pressing it against Mateo's forehead. He whimpered again, his little body trembling as he shifted restlessly on the bed. I could feel the heat radiating off of him, and it made my heart ache. He was so small, so fragile, and there was nothing I could do to take his pain away.
"Isabella, help me," my mother said softly, her voice breaking through my thoughts. "We need to keep cooling him down."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat as I took another cloth and soaked it in the water. Together, we began to gently rub the cool clothes over Mateo's arms, legs, and chest, trying to bring his temperature down. The minutes felt like hours as we worked, the silence broken only by Mateo's soft whimpers and the sound of the clock ticking away the time.
"How long do we have to do this, Mama?" I asked quietly, my voice trembling with worry. I couldn't stand seeing Mateo like this, suffering, and not being able to do anything to make it better.
"Until his fever breaks," my mother replied, her voice calm but strained. I could see the exhaustion in her eyes, the same exhaustion that was settling deep in my bones. But we didn't have the luxury of resting. Not while Mateo was like that.
I kept my focus on my little brother, gently wiping his burning skin with the cool cloth, praying silently that his fever would go down. Sometimes, he would stir, his small hands grasping weakly at the sheets, and each time, it broke my heart a little more. He was just a child. He didn't deserve this.
"Mama, what if it doesn't work?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The thought of losing Mateo was too much to bear.
"It will work," my mother said firmly, though I could hear the doubt in her voice. "It has to."
We continued to cool Mateo's body, the hours dragging by in a blur of worry and exhaustion. I could feel the weight of the night pressing down on me, my eyes heavy with fatigue, but I refused to stop. I couldn't leave Mateo, not when he needed me.
"Mama," I whispered after what felt like an eternity. "I think he's cooling down a little."
My mother quickly leaned over to feel Mateo's forehead, her eyes widening slightly. "You're right. His fever's going down."
A wave of relief washed over me, so intense that I nearly started crying. But I held it in, focusing on Mateo's small, steady breaths as his body slowly began to cool. We weren't out of the woods yet, but at least the worst seemed to be over.
"He's going to be okay," I murmured, more to myself than to anyone else. "He's going to be okay."
My mother nodded, though her eyes were still full of worry. "We need to keep an eye on him, but I think he'll be alright now. You did well, mija."
I offered her a weak smile, too tired to feel much pride in her words. All I wanted was for Mateo to be okay, to see him smile again and hear his laughter.
"Why don't you try to get some rest?" my mother suggested gently. "I'll stay up and watch him."
I shook my head, the thought of sleep seeming impossible. "No, Mama. You should rest. I can stay with him."
She looked at me for a long moment, then sighed and nodded. "Alright. But wake me if anything changes, okay?"
"I will," I promised, even though I knew I wouldn't. I couldn't bear to wake her after everything we'd been through tonight.