It was a normal Friday afternoon. The kind where you expect nothing more than emails, a stale vending machine coffee, and maybe a quick glance at the clock, counting down to the weekend.
But at exactly 2:25 PM, my world tilted.
My phone buzzed. No Caller ID. A missed call. Then another.
I was reaching for my coffee when it rang again. Something in my gut twisted, and before I knew it, my hand was answering the call.
“Mommy?”
Ben’s voice was so quiet, I almost didn’t hear it. But the fear in it? That was loud. That was unmistakable.
My body went rigid.
“Ben? What’s wrong?”
Silence. Heavy breathing. A pause so long it made my skin crawl.
“I’m afraid,” he whispered. His voice cracked in the middle, like something inside him had broken.
“Where’s Ruby, baby? What’s she doing?”
“I don’t know… she was standing, and then… she wasn’t.”
My stomach dropped. My hands shook.
“What do you mean? Is she hurt?”
“I think so. She fell. I tried to help, but she won’t wake up.”
Oh, God.
“Where are you right now?”
“In the closet,” he whispered. “I didn’t know what else to do. The glass of water spilled from her hand, and she didn’t move. Her eyes were open, but not like normal.”
I forced my voice to stay steady. “Ben, stay where you are. I’m coming right now, okay? You are not alone. Just hold on.”
I didn’t log off. I didn’t tell my boss. I just grabbed my bag and ran.
Every red light was a punishment. Every second stretched too long. My heart hammered in my chest as I pushed the gas pedal, as if I could bend time if I drove fast enough.
When I finally turned onto our street, everything looked… still. Too still.
The door was locked. The curtains drawn, like usual when Ben and Ruby watched TV.
For a moment, I thought, Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I overreacted.
Then I threw the door open.
“Ben?! It’s Mommy!”
Silence.
Panic clawed up my throat.
Then, a tiny voice. Faint. Croaking.
“In the closet…”
I ran down the hallway, wrenching open the closet door. There he was—curled up, clutching his stuffed dinosaur like it was the only thing keeping him safe. His little fingers trembled, his knees pulled to his chest.
I dropped to the floor and scooped him up, holding him tight.
“I didn’t know what to do,” he whispered into my shoulder. “I tried to help her.”
“You did everything right,” I murmured, running my fingers through his soft, sweaty hair, trying not to fall apart.
His body shook against mine, but he hadn’t cried. Not yet.
“Where is she, baby?”
He pointed to the living room.
My heart pounded as I stood up. Everything felt slow, like I was moving through water.
Then I saw her.
Ruby.
She was collapsed on her side, one arm twisted awkwardly, the other resting against the carpet like it didn’t belong to her. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, like she had been trying to say something before she fell.
A shattered glass of water lay next to her. A folded pillow beneath her head.
And, on her forehead, the cold pack from the freezer—Ben’s doing. The one I always used for his bruised knees and bumped elbows.
Something about the scene was… wrong. Too quiet. Too still.
I rushed to her, pressing trembling fingers to her neck.
A pulse.
“Thank God.”
She was breathing, but barely. Her skin was clammy. Her lashes fluttered for a moment, then went still again.
Ben had seen this. He’d watched her collapse. Maybe he thought she’d died.
And suddenly, I wasn’t in the living room anymore. I was two years back.
Ben and I had just come home from grocery shopping. He had insisted on dinosaur-shaped pasta. We were laughing. He was pretending a baguette was a sword. The sky was too blue, too perfect.
Then we opened the door.
And we found Richard.
His body on the bed. His mouth slack. His hand hanging off the edge in a way that was all wrong.
Ben had asked why Daddy wasn’t waking up.
I hadn’t been able to answer.
Now, staring at Ruby’s still body, the room spun. My throat closed. My heart pounded so loud I could barely hear Ben behind me.
Not again. Not again.
I forced myself to move. I grabbed my phone, fingers fumbling, pressed too hard on the screen. Missed the call icon. Tried again.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“My babysitter collapsed,” I said, my voice too high. “She’s breathing, but not waking up. Please. Please send someone.”
Ben had crept closer, holding his dinosaur like a shield.
I steadied my voice. I had to be strong for him.
“Ruby,” I said gently. “Help is on the way, sweetheart. Can you hear me?”
A few moments passed.
Then, her eyelids fluttered. Her lips parted. She looked confused. Disoriented.
“I…” she started, then winced.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” I said, relief crashing over me. “Don’t try to move. Just breathe.”
Later, the paramedics told me it was dehydration and low blood sugar. She hadn’t eaten all day. She had felt dizzy but thought she’d be fine. Until she wasn’t.
That night, after the house was quiet again, after the couch cushions were fluffed and the spilled water was cleaned, I tucked Ben into bed.
He was still too alert, staring at the ceiling.
“Did Ruby die?” he asked. “Like Daddy?”
“No, sweetheart,” I said. “She was awake when they took her. She even said goodbye to you.”
He nodded but still looked troubled. “She made a noise when she fell. Like a thud. I thought maybe her brain broke.”
Tears burned my eyes.
“I wanted to shake her, but I remembered what you said. About not moving someone if they’re hurt. So I got the pillow. And the cold thing. But she didn’t wake up.”
“You did so well,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“I felt really alone,” he said quietly.
I swallowed hard.
“I know. And I’m so sorry. But you weren’t alone, Ben. The moment you called, I was already running.”
He studied me for a long moment.
“Your eyes look like hers did,” he whispered.
I didn’t know what to say to that.
“Want some ice cream?” I asked. “I know it’s late, but we had a tough day.”
He nodded.
Later, when he fell asleep, I stayed beside him, holding his hand in the dark. Because in the moment it mattered most, he wasn’t the one who needed saving.
I was.
