“The patient is critically injured, suffering from massive blood loss, and has a rare blood type. Does anyone in the family have panda blood?”

The light outside the operating room had just turned off when the exhausted doctor shook his head at me.

“We don’t have this blood type in stock at the hospital. We’re doing everything we can to stop the bleeding, but the child’s injuries are too severe. Is there a family member with the same blood type?”

“If not, I’m afraid she won’t make it through the night.”

The doctor’s words hit me like a thunderbolt. I muttered in disbelief, “The child’s father has panda blood.”

“Then get the child’s father to the hospital right away,” the doctor said before hurrying back to the operating room.

I leaned helplessly against the wall, sliding down to the floor.

By the time I reached the hospital, I had already called my husband Kevin countless times.

Each call was rejected immediately, never even ringing through.

My eyes were fixed on the direction of the operating room, while the beeping of the monitors in my daughter’s room echoed incessantly in my mind.

Terrified and trembling, the thought that my daughter’s time was running out made my heart twist painfully.

My daughter cannot die!

With trembling hands, I pulled out my phone and dialed the all-too-familiar number.

With each rejection, I became more frantic and shaken.

Once, rejected.

Five times, rejected.

Dozens of times, rejected.

In my panic, I accidentally saw an Instagram Post.

It featured a familiar tall figure holding a little girl in a park, searching for something.

The caption read: “My daughter’s dog is missing. The dog search team is out in full force! Those who love you will always be there for you in your moments of weakness.”

The figure was too familiar to me. He was unmistakably my husband of over twenty years.

Our daughter’s life was hanging by a thread in the hospital, however, he was out looking for a dog for his recently returned first love’s daughter.

A surge of fury overwhelmed my reason. I forced it down and continued dialing with trembling hands.

All calls were rejected.

Despair clouded my vision, and tears blurred my eyes.

Helpless, I had no choice but to call Darlene Lopez.

To my surprise, the call was answered quickly.

Before I could speak, Darlene Lopez’s voice came through, sounding aggrieved: “Grace, are you here to accuse me because of a misunderstanding from my Instagram Post?”

My throat was dry, and I was too distraught to play along. I could only plead: “Ms Lopez, please, let Kevin answer the phone. Blanche just experienced a traffic accident and needs her father to save her.”

“But Kevin is helping my daughter find her dog. Are you really going to react this way just because of my Instagram Post? Using a child as leverage, how pitiful.”

I was trembling uncontrollably, and the intense pain felt like it was piercing through my chest and brain.

So, while my daughter was fighting for her life, he kept rejecting her life-saving calls to accompany the daughter of his first love.