Chapter 44: The World Is Holding Its Breath
Zara’s arms shook as she cradled Leo, his small, fragile body feeling like a dead weight against her chest. Each cough that tore through him was like a knife to her heart. His chest heaved, shallow and laboured, and his face was flushed with a damp sheen of sweat. She could feel the trembling of his body as he struggled to breathe.
She could feel the tremors in his chest as his breath came in uneven gasps, and her hands shook as she tried to gently pat his back, hoping that somehow it would ease his discomfort. But it wasn’t helping. Nothing was helping.
She tried to steady her breathing, tried to keep her mounting panic from showing on her face, but the uneven rise and fall of her chest betrayed her.
"Shhh, baby, shhh," she murmured, gently patting his back. The sound of his hacking coughs didn’t subside, and a deep sense of dread began clawing its way up her spine. His face, flushed red, was damp with sweat as he buried it into her neck, whimpering softly between coughs.
From her position by the door, Mia turned, her eyes narrowing as she noticed the struggle. "What’s going on?" she asked, stepping forward.
Zara didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Words felt useless against the frantic swirl of fear and helplessness flooding her mind. Instead, her gaze flicked to Leo’s face again, her breath hitching in her chest when she noticed his eyes were glassy, unfocused. She swallowed hard, pushing the fear back down as she began to search him over for any visible signs of harm. She shifted Leo slightly, holding him closer as she scanned his small face for any sign—a rash, a fever, something to explain this. Her fingers hovered uncertainly over his skin, brushing damp hair away from his forehead. Nothing.
"Leo, baby, please talk to me," she whispered, her voice a broken plea. She brushed his damp hair away from his forehead, her fingers trembling.
"What’s wrong, baby?" But he only whimpered again, his breath hitching as he clung to her tighter.
From across the dimly lit room, Kit stirred, rubbing his eyes as he pushed himself upright. "What’s happening?" he mumbled, his voice groggy. His gaze darted to Zara, then to Leo. The concern in his expression deepened. "Is he sick?"
Zara shook her head quickly, almost reflexively. She didn’t have an answer. Not one that would reassure Kit or herself. Before she could say anything, Kit fumbled with something around his neck, pulling free a frayed string with a battered button dangling at its centre.
"Here," he said, holding it out to her with trembling hands. "It’s my lucky charm. It’ll help him. It always helps me."