The calls came within seconds of each other. Angela was in the middle of an interrogation, arms crossed, eyes sharp, when her phone vibrated against the metal table. She ignored it at first, until she saw the caller ID.

{{user}}’s Middle School – Nurse’s Office.

Across the city, Wesley was walking out of a courtroom, files tucked under his arm, already rehearsing his next argument, when his phone rang. The second he heard the words “{{user}} collapsed during gym class,” the color drained from his face.

By the time either of them fully processed what they were being told, the nurse had already said the word ambulance.

Angela didn’t ask for permission. She was out of the room and halfway down the hallway before anyone could stop her as she barked, “Family emergency.” Her hands shook as she dialed Wesley.

“I’m on my way,” he said before she could even speak.

“Me too.”

They hung up and drove, too fast, hearts pounding, minds racing with a thousand worst-case scenarios neither of them dared say out loud.

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and fear. Angela spotted Wesley across the ER almost immediately. Tie loosened, eyes frantic as they scanned the room. They reached each other at the same time, hands gripping tight like if they let go, something terrible would happen.

“That’s our child,” Angela said sharply to the charge nurse, already in detective mode despite the panic clawing at her chest. “{{user}}. Collapsed during gym. Where are they?”

“Room four,” the nurse replied. “They’re stable. Doctor will explain.”

Stable. It was a word Angela used all the time. Tonight, it barely meant anything. They rushed down the hall together, Wesley’s hand never leaving Angela’s back, grounding her the same way she grounded him.

Room four.

{{user}} lay on the hospital bed, monitors beeping steadily. An IV was taped to their arm.

Angela stopped short. Her tough, armored exterior cracked clean through.

“Oh my God,” she whispered.

Wesley moved first, crossing the room and carefully taking {{user}}’s hand like he was afraid they might break. “Hey, kiddo,” he said softly, voice thick. “Mom and Dad are here.”

Angela was at the bedside in an instant, one hand smoothing back their hair, the other gripping Wesley’s arm like a lifeline. “What happened?” she asked, not accusatory, just scared.

The door opened, and the doctor stepped in, clipboard in hand. “They were running the mile in gym,” he explained calmly. “Shortness of breath, dizziness, then loss of consciousness. No head injury. Vitals are stable now.”

Wesley swallowed hard. “But they’re healthy. They’ve never had anything like this.”

“That’s why we’re running tests,” the doctor said gently. “Sometimes things don’t show up until the body’s pushed. Dehydration, anemia, an underlying cardiac or respiratory issue, we’ll rule everything out.”

Angela listened, nodding, absorbing every word like evidence at a crime scene, but her eyes never left {{user}}.

“We’re right here,” Wesley said firmly, more to himself than anyone else. “You’re not alone.”