Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24: THE 2:00 A.M. FEVER
The flu hit the house in late January.
It started with Oliver.
At 2:00 a.m., a soft cry echoed from the hallway.
In the years before, illness was an inconvenience. If Oliver woke up sick, Michael would groan, roll over, and remind Emma that he had an early meeting. The unspoken rule was that Emma handled the messy, exhausting realities of parenthood so Michael’s schedule remained pristine.
Tonight, Emma woke to the sound of Oliver crying.
She sat up, rubbing her eyes, kicking off the blankets.
But the space beside her was already empty.
Emma walked down the dark hallway. She stopped at the door to Oliver’s room.
The small bedside lamp was on, casting a warm, dim glow.
Michael was sitting on the edge of the bed. He was wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt. He had a cool, damp washcloth pressed gently against Oliver’s flushed forehead.
"I know, buddy. It's hot," Michael whispered, his voice incredibly soft. "The medicine will kick in soon. Daddy's right here."
Oliver whimpered, turning his face into Michael’s hand.
Michael didn't pull away. He didn't look impatiently at his watch. He just stroked his son's hair with his thumb.
Emma stood in the doorway.
Michael looked up and saw her. He didn't ask her to take over.
"He spiked a fever," Michael whispered. "I gave him the children's ibuprofen five minutes ago. He threw up a little, but I changed the sheets."
Emma looked at the laundry basket. The soiled sheets were already put away.
"Do you want me to sit with him?" Emma asked softly.
Michael shook his head. He looked down at his son.
"No," Michael said. "I've got him. Go back to sleep, Em. You need to rest."
Emma didn't argue. She didn't hover.
May you like
She trusted him.
She walked back to her bed, pulled the covers up, and fell into a deep, uninterrupted sleep, knowing her son was entirely safe in his father's arms.
