His grip tightened, as if reminding me of something I could not escape. "Today is Adeline's birthday, but whether or not she lives to see another one depends on what you do."
I stared at him, my shoulders gradually sagging as I surrendered to the numbness. "Fine. I’ll go."
Harith was rarely awake, then he looked at me with wide, quiet eyes, like he was afraid to say or do the wrong thing. I couldn’t bring myself to hate him, no matter what had happened between me and Beatrix. He was just a child—innocent and even less fortunate than Adeline in many ways. His life seemed to be used for his mother’s constant need for sympathy.
One night, as I watched over Harith, an uneasy feeling crept over me. A mother’s intuition, they call it. I couldn’t ignore it. I had to check on Adeline. Something didn’t feel right.
I stood up, trying to slip out quietly. But just as I reached the door, I heard a small, strangled gasp behind me. Harith was suddenly struggling to breathe, his tiny chest heaving. Doctors and nurses rushed in and I froze for a moment as they crowded around his bed, working to help him.