He nodded slowly.
“I know.”
On day forty-five he brought a small box.
Inside was a model motorcycle kit.
“For when he wakes up,” Ronan said.
“We’ll build it together.”
Two mornings later, I walked into the hospital room early.
Ronan was already there reading.
Then something small caught my eye.
Malik’s finger twitched.
“Malik!” I rushed to the bed.
His eyes fluttered.
Machines started beeping.
Nurses ran in.
Then slowly… my son opened his eyes.
He looked around the room, confused.
Then his gaze landed on Ronan.
“You,” Malik whispered.
“You’re the man who saved me.”
None of us moved.
“I remember,” Malik said weakly. “I ran into the street… you grabbed me… you kept telling me to stay awake.”
Continued on the next page
