He grabbed his keys, leaving his expensive jacket behind, and walked out of the office without telling anyone.
“I’m calling an ambulance, and I’m coming too,” he told her. “Can you open the door when I arrive?”
“You’re really coming?” Emma asked quietly. “My mom says you’re very important.”
Victor paused in the hallway.
Important.
The word had never felt so empty… and yet so demanding.
“Yes, Emma. I’m coming. You’re not alone.”
He had no idea that the call meant to fire someone would divide his life into two parts: before Emma and after Emma.
He drove faster than he had in years. His black sedan cut through traffic while he kept the girl on speakerphone and spoke to emergency services at the same time.
“Mister… she made that noise again,” Emma whispered.
“The ambulance is coming, sweetheart. Stay close to her, but don’t shake her. Breathe slowly with me.”
He was surprised to hear himself say “sweetheart.” No one in his company had ever heard him speak like that.
When he arrived, he found a small worn house with cracked walls and a tiny yard where a few struggling flowers grew. The difference between his world and hers hit him hard.