Natalie

The fifth week was the worst.

Ethan had seemed better for two days, and that tiny improvement had been enough to make me stupidly hopeful.

He ate half a bowl of soup.

He asked for his favorite cartoon.

He even complained that the hospital socks were ugly.

I had laughed so hard that I cried afterward.

I thought maybe we were finally turning a corner.

Then his fever came.

It started at 2:17 in the morning.

I remembered the exact time because I was sitting beside him when his body suddenly began shaking.

“Ethan?”

He didn’t answer.

His face was burning beneath my palm.

I pressed the call button...