But he seemed to have forgotten—my parents also had only one child. Me. And I was their late-in-life miracle at that.
My name is Freya James. My parents said they hoped I'd carry virtue in my heart and treasure in my hands—that my name held every ounce of their love.
Who isn't the apple of their parents' eye?
Even now, I didn't dare imagine what my parents—both nearing seventy—would do with their remaining years if I died.
After dinner, Victor made an excuse about going downstairs for a cigarette to clear his head. I stood silently by the window and watched him hail a car and disappear into the distance.
In the hollow emptiness of the hotel room, the news broadcast rattled off the daily death toll. "Twenty-one confirmed fatalities from the virus today..."
The anchor read the numbers in a flat, clinical tone, but I knew all too well the agony each life behind those numbers endured while waiting for death.
Day one of infection brought unbearable itching across the entire body. Day two, the skin erupted in sores.
Those sores burned and oozed pus, and by day three, your organs felt like they were being gnawed apart from the inside. That bone-deep, flesh-tearing pain didn't stop until the moment you drew your last breath.
The thought made me press my hand to my stomach. "Sweet baby," I whispered. "Next time around, pick a good mommy and daddy, okay? I can't... keep you. Mommy doesn't want you born into a broken family."
After all, Mommy grew up in a home that was whole and full of love—double the love. I want that for you too.
Before I knew it, I'd drifted off. When I woke, it was to the shrill ring of my phone. I glanced at the screen. Dad.
The second I picked up, his choked voice came through. "Freya, sweetheart—I saw on the news that Estara has a virus outbreak, and all the flights have been grounded. Don't be scared, baby girl. Daddy's buying a ticket right now. I'm coming to you."
Then Mom's voice broke through on the other end, thick with tears she was trying to swallow.
"You're buying mine too, old man. You think you're the only one who misses her?"
"Your health isn't good. Just stay home and wait for good news. I'll bring our girl back safe and sound."
"Absolutely not. We go together or not at all. And if we can't come back—then at least we die together."
Listening to my normally gentle, soft-spoken parents argue because of me, my eyes quietly burned. To keep them from worrying, I swallowed the tremor in my voice and rushed to say, "Mom, Dad—don't worry. I called the Embassy. The government arranged a return ticket for me. I'll be home tomorrow."
The moment Mom heard that, she snatched the phone. "Really? Oh, thank God! Your father and I will be at the airport to pick you up."
I wiped my tears and managed a smile. "You can't. I have an assignment when I get back. Just stay home and wait for me."
After I hung up, I realized Victor had come back at some point without me noticing.
He was staring at me, face lit up with barely contained hope. "Freya—you got a ticket?"
I'd called the Embassy while he was around. Thinking back on it now, the calm confidence he'd shown while reassuring Ina was probably because he'd already calculated that I could secure a ticket.
Since he already knew, there was no point hiding it. But when I opened my mouth, I said it deliberately:
"I did get a ticket. But there's only one."
The hope in his eyes guttered out instantly. He was silent for a few seconds, then his brow furrowed and his voice turned urgent. "One? How can they only give you one? Didn't you tell them you have family with you?"
"Talk to them again. Get them to make an exception. Someone like you—a national hero—there's no way they'd refuse you a second ticket."
He wasn't wrong about that. Life-saving tickets were allocated for spouses and family members too.
So when I'd explained the situation to the Embassy, they hadn't hesitated for a second.
They gave me two return tickets.
