Chapter 101
Alexander understood immediately. “He’s… being taken care of. Ethan and Lyra arranged everything, but we’ve waited for you.”
The thought of my baby alone in some cold morgue nearly triggered another breakdown. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, trying to anchor myself to physical pain rather than emotional.
“I need to see him.”
“Summer-”
“I need to see my son.” My voice broke on the last word.
Alexander nodded slowly. “I’ll arrange it when the doctors say you’re stable enough.”
For a while, we sat in silence. The enormity of loss pressed down on me, making each breath a conscious
effort.
“The doctors said you were severely dehydrated and malnourished even before… before this happened,” Alexander eventually said. “You haven’t been taking care of yourself.”
“Here,” he said, reaching for a cup of water with a straw. “Small sips.”
I stared at the offered cup, not caring enough to reach for it. Then something in Alexander’s expression
caught my attention–the raw, naked grief etched into every line of his face. For the first time, I really
looked at him–saw the red–rimmed eyes, the unshaven face, the slumped shoulders. He had loved Felix
too.
Something shifted inside me, a tiny crack in the wall of my isolation. Slowly, I turned back and accepted
the water, taking a small sip. Alexander’s relief was palpable.
“I’m well enough to see him now,” I said after a moment, my voice strengthening with determination. “I
won’t collapse or try anything stupid. But I need to see my son, Alexander.”
He studied my face for a long moment before nodding. “I’ll speak with the doctor.”
An hour later, after the doctor’s reluctant approval and Alexander’s fierce insistence, I was in a
wheelchair being pushed toward the hospital morgue. Every inch we traveled felt like moving through
concrete, my heart pounding harder with each floor we descended.
The morgue attendant looked uncomfortable as Alexander spoke quietly with him. Words like “special circumstances” and “family closure” drifted to me, along with the soft rustle of what I suspected was a substantial amount of cash changing hands.
“Are you sure about this?” Alexander asked one last time, kneeling beside my wheelchair.
I nodded, unable to speak.
1/2
The attendant led us into a cold room where a small sheet–covered form lay on a table. My breath caught in my throat.
“Do you want me to-?” Alexander began.
“No.” I gripped the armrests of the wheelchair. “Help me up.”
With his support, I stood on trembling legs and approached the table. The attendant discreetly stepped outside, leaving us alone.
For a long moment, I couldn’t bring myself to pull back the sheet. As long as I didn’t see him, I could pretend this wasn’t real.
But it was. And I needed to say goodbye.
With shaking fingers, I gently folded the sheet back to reveal Felix’s face.
He looked peaceful. Almost like he was sleeping, except for the unnatural stillness and the slight gray cast to his normally rosy skin. Someone had combed his hair the way he liked it, and dressed him in his favorite blue pajamas–the ones with little wolves running across the fabric.
“Oh, baby,” I whispered, touching his cold cheek. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you.”
Alexander stood behind me, his hands on my shoulders, supporting me both physically and emotionally. I felt a tear drop onto my hair–he was crying too.
“He loved you,” I told Alexander, my voice breaking. “You made his last days happy ones.”
“He was the son I always wanted,” Alexander replied, his voice thick with emotion. “He deserved so much more time.”
I leaned down to press a kiss to Felix’s forehead. “Mommy loves you,” I whispered. “Forever and always.”
As I straightened, something hardened inside me. A resolve crystallizing from the molten grief.
They would pay. Both of them would pay for what they’d done to Felix.
