As we waited to sign the discharge papers, I just held him. His weight felt different that day — lighter, as if part of him was already slipping away. I wanted to hold him forever, to somehow pause time, but time didn’t care about what I wanted.
Then something unexpected happened. Liam lifted his head and looked across the room. His eyes stopped on a large man sitting alone in the corner — a biker. He wore a black leather vest covered in patches. Tattoos covered both arms. His beard was thick, his boots heavy, and his expression unreadable. He looked like someone who belonged on the open road, not in a pediatric ward.
Continue reading…
