At 2:47 in the morning, while my seven-year-old daughter was in critical condition in the ICU, my husband saw my calls and rejected them because he was in the Bahamas with the woman he had told me not to worry about.

my phone.

“Stop calling him.”

“I have to tell him.”

“You have told him.”

“He’s her father.”

“And you have told him.”

“What if she wakes up and asks for him?”

Rebecca swallowed.

“Then we’ll deal with that if it happens.”

Lily woke briefly.

At 10:17 that morning.

Barely conscious.

Her eyes opened halfway.

I immediately leaned over her.

“Mommy’s here.”

Her lips moved.

I leaned closer.

“What, baby?”

“Cold.”

Nothing more.

I rubbed her hand between mine.

“You’re okay. Mommy’s right here.”

Those were the last words she