34.

Layla

Nathan, out of the blue, grew dull and fell ill. He wouldn’t even take a bite of his favorite peanut butter sandwich, and he became averse to ice cream.

On Saturday, the day Henry and I were supposed to attend the wedding at the Chapel, his health worsened, and I was forced to take him to the hospital. The doctor put him on the drip as he lay on the hospital bed, his glum face staring into nothingness. He was awfully quiet and it made me uneasy.

“Hey…” Henry came in, stroking my back as I clutched Nathan’s hands.

“Are you okay?” He was worried.

I nodded. I was grateful I always had him to lean on. He kissed my forehead, brushing back my hair affectionately.

“It’s going to be fine,” he assured me. “Nathan’s a strong boy. Aren’t you Nathan?” He smiled at Nathan.

But Nathan wouldn’t budge or say a word. I feared he must have become irrevocably reticent about the way he had been behaving since he fell ill.