On the other end of the line, the doctor responded, "Got it, Andre. I'll have a doctor check on him right away. I'm heading there now too."
After hanging up, Henry started crying in the car. This wasn't his usual fuss; his little voice clearly showed he was in distress.
Mia's eyes welled up with worry. "If I had known, I wouldn’t have pushed for the swing. Now our baby is sick because of it. Just a couple of days ago, I was telling Molly how healthy he’s been, never giving us a scare, and now look. Do you think it's because I jinxed it?"
"Don’t worry yourself. Which kid hasn’t made a late-night trip to the ER? It’s chilly out, colds are going around. It’s not your fault."
The quiet night streets were only disturbed by the speeding Rolls-Royce.
Andre pressed on the gas pedal, the hospital getting closer with each passing moment.
Henry woke up, calling out for "Mommy, Daddy."
When they arrived at the hospital's emergency department, the pediatric chief was already there waiting. "Andre, Mrs. Cedillo, let me have a look at Henry."
Still in his pajamas, Henry saw a stranger and started crying, clutching onto his mom’s hair, refusing to be held by anyone else. His tearful eyes looked at his dad as if pleading not to be left alone.
Andre took his son, "I’ll hold him for the check-up."
The nurse brought out a thermometer, and Mia anxiously knelt to undress Henry enough to place it under his arm.
The cold, unfamiliar touch made Henry’s tears and snot flow nonstop, along with his little coughs, turning his face red.
Whenever he paused from crying, he’d look at Mia and call out for "Mommy."
Soon, Dr. Hester arrived. "What’s his temperature?"
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