Chapter 3: Still Breathing
The paramedic closest to Mark — a young woman with short red hair and steady hands — pressed two fingers to the side of his neck.
She held them there for four seconds.
Then she turned to her partner.
"Get the bag."
The room erupted.
Teresa grabbed the doorframe.
Two aunts started crying.
One of Mark's cousins said something in a low voice that I didn't catch because I was watching Marcus.
He hadn't moved toward Mark.
He hadn't reached for Teresa.
He was standing very still near the side table, and his eyes were on me.
"Claire." His voice was quiet now.
Controlled.
"This is going to be a very difficult night for everyone.
Let's not make it worse."
"He's alive, Marcus."
"We don't know that yet."
"I felt his heartbeat."
"You felt what you wanted to feel." He took one step toward me.
"You're in shock.
Chloe put an idea in your head and you ran with it.
That is completely understandable."
The paramedic looked up.
"Ma'am, I need everyone to step back, please."
Marcus gestured toward the hallway as if he were hosting a dinner party.
"You heard her.
Everyone out."
I didn't move.
"Claire." His tone sharpened.
"I said—"
"I'm his wife." I looked at the paramedic.
"I'm staying."
She nodded once and turned back to Mark.
Her partner had the equipment open.
They worked fast and quiet, and I stood three feet away and watched Mark's chest rise.
It was shallow.
Barely visible.
But it rose.
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
Behind me, I heard Marcus on his phone.
His voice was low, turned away, almost a murmur.
I caught two words before he moved into the hallway.
"Not yet."
The paramedics stabilized Mark enough to move him.
As they prepared the stretcher, I picked up Chloe, who had climbed out of the casket on her own and was now standing beside me with both arms wrapped around my waist.
"Is Daddy going to be okay?" she asked.
"Yes," I said.
I didn't know if it was true.
But I said it like I meant it.
They wheeled Mark out through the front door.
I followed with Chloe's hand in mine.
The cold night air hit my face and I realized I was shaking.
That's when Teresa stepped in front of me on the porch.
"Claire." Her voice was low.
"You need to think very carefully about what you're doing."
I looked at her.
"My husband is alive.
That's what I'm doing."
"Mark has been under enormous stress.
His heart—"
"His heart was fine three days ago."
"These things happen suddenly.
The doctor explained—"
"Which doctor?" I said.
"Dr.
Salgado?
The one who texted Marcus tonight asking if I'd signed the documents yet?"
Teresa's face didn't collapse.
It went flat.
And that flatness told me everything.
"I don't know what you think you saw," she said.
"I have a screenshot."
She was quiet for two full seconds.
Then: "You're grieving.
You're not thinking clearly."
"Then I'll think clearly at the hospital." I stepped around her.
"Don't follow us."
I put Chloe in the car.
My hands were steady enough to buckle her seatbelt.
I don't know how.
May you like
As I pulled out of the driveway, I saw Marcus standing at the upstairs window, watching the ambulance pull away.
He was already on the phone again.
