James drove straight to the hotel. He was worried. The roads of Texas stretched before him, but he barely noticed the traffic or the red lights. All he could think about was Emily. Why was she in a hotel? Why didn’t she stay with her parents or friends? Why had she disappeared without a word? The diary told part of the truth, but James felt there was more. At last, he pulled up at the hotel she had mentioned. He rushed to the reception desk and asked for her room number. The receptionist gave it, and he ran to the elevator, his heart pressing against his chest with fear. When he reached her door, he knocked. No answer. He knocked again, louder this time. Still silence. Something was wrong. He turned the handle. To his surprise, the door was unlocked. Slowly, he pushed it open, and the sight before him almost froze his blood. Emily was lying on the floor, motionless. Around her were bottles—empty bottles of alcohol, scattered everywhere. The air was filled with the sour smell of drink. ...
James drove straight to the hotel. He was worried. The roads of Texas stretched before him, but he barely noticed the traffic or the red lights. All he could think about was Emily.
Why was she in a hotel? Why didn’t she stay with her parents or friends? Why had she disappeared without a word? The diary told part of the truth, but James felt there was more.
At last, he pulled up at the hotel she had mentioned. He rushed to the reception desk and asked for her room number. The receptionist gave it, and he ran to the elevator, his heart pressing against his chest with fear.
When he reached her door, he knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again, louder this time. Still silence.
Something was wrong.
He turned the handle. To his surprise, the door was unlocked. Slowly, he pushed it open, and the sight before him almost froze his blood.
Emily was lying on the floor, motionless. Around her were bottles—empty bottles of alcohol, scattered everywhere. The air was filled with the sour smell of drink.
James gasped. “Emily!” he shouted, running to her side.
She was breathing, but weakly. Her skin was pale, her lips dry. Her clothes were rumpled, and her hair looked unkempt. It was clear she had not been caring for herself.
James bent down, shaking her gently. “Emily, wake up. Talk to me. Where’s the baby?”
But she said nothing. Her eyes fluttered open for a brief second, then closed again.
Why was she in a hotel? Why didn’t she stay with her parents or friends? Why had she disappeared without a word? The diary told part of the truth, but James felt there was more.
At last, he pulled up at the hotel she had mentioned. He rushed to the reception desk and asked for her room number. The receptionist gave it, and he ran to the elevator, his heart pressing against his chest with fear.
When he reached her door, he knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again, louder this time. Still silence.
Something was wrong.
He turned the handle. To his surprise, the door was unlocked. Slowly, he pushed it open, and the sight before him almost froze his blood.
Emily was lying on the floor, motionless. Around her were bottles—empty bottles of alcohol, scattered everywhere. The air was filled with the sour smell of drink.
James gasped. “Emily!” he shouted, running to her side.
She was breathing, but weakly. Her skin was pale, her lips dry. Her clothes were rumpled, and her hair looked unkempt. It was clear she had not been caring for herself.
James bent down, shaking her gently. “Emily, wake up. Talk to me. Where’s the baby?”
But she said nothing. Her eyes fluttered open for a brief second, then closed again.
Panic gripped James. He looked around the room, desperate. The baby was not there. The bed was empty. The bottles of milk and clothes he expected to see were missing.
“Emily!” James cried again. “Where is our child?”
But she gave no answer.
James knew there was no time to waste. He lifted her carefully into his arms. She felt light, as though she had not eaten in days. With one last look around the room—still no sign of the baby—he carried her out.
Down the hallway, through the lobby, people stared as James hurried past with Emily in his arms. He did not care. He rushed to his car, placed her gently in the back seat, and sped off toward the nearest hospital.
The drive felt endless. He kept glancing back at her through the rearview mirror, praying she would hold on.
When he finally reached the hospital, he rushed inside shouting, “Help! Somebody help! My wife—she’s not okay!”
Nurses and doctors ran forward. They placed Emily on a stretcher and wheeled her into the emergency room. James tried to follow, but a nurse stopped him at the door.
“Please, sir, wait outside. Let us attend to her.”
James paced the waiting area like a man whose whole world was crumbling. His hands clenched and unclenched. His eyes stayed fixed on the emergency doors.
Minutes felt like hours. Every second stretched unbearably. He could not sit. He could not think. All he could do was whisper to himself, “Please, God. Don’t let anything happen to her. Don’t take her from me.”
At last, after what felt like forever, a doctor came out.
“Are you her husband?” the doctor asked.
“Yes. Yes, I am. How is she?” James replied quickly.
The doctor looked serious. “Your wife has been drinking heavily for several days. From what we can tell, she has not eaten properly during this time. Her body is very weak. She collapsed because her system could no longer handle it.”
James swallowed hard. His chest tightened with guilt. “But… she’s alive?”
“Yes,” the doctor nodded. “She is alive. But if you had delayed bringing her here, even by two more hours, she would not have made it.”
James closed his eyes and exhaled sharply. The words cut him deeply. He imagined what could have happened if he had arrived at the hotel later, if he had ignored her call, if he had not gone looking for her at all. The thought alone terrified him.
“But will she survive?” James asked again.
The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder. “She will survive. We are giving her the treatment she needs. She is very weak, but she is responding. She will recover.”
For the first time in days, James felt a weight lift off his chest. His knees almost gave way from relief.
He whispered to himself, “Thank you, God.”
But even as relief washed over him, questions returned. Where was the baby? Why had Emily turned to alcohol? What had pushed her into such darkness?
Those answers would have to wait. For now, Emily was alive—and that was enough.
“Emily!” James cried again. “Where is our child?”
But she gave no answer.
James knew there was no time to waste. He lifted her carefully into his arms. She felt light, as though she had not eaten in days. With one last look around the room—still no sign of the baby—he carried her out.
Down the hallway, through the lobby, people stared as James hurried past with Emily in his arms. He did not care. He rushed to his car, placed her gently in the back seat, and sped off toward the nearest hospital.
The drive felt endless. He kept glancing back at her through the rearview mirror, praying she would hold on.
When he finally reached the hospital, he rushed inside shouting, “Help! Somebody help! My wife—she’s not okay!”
Nurses and doctors ran forward. They placed Emily on a stretcher and wheeled her into the emergency room. James tried to follow, but a nurse stopped him at the door.
“Please, sir, wait outside. Let us attend to her.”
James paced the waiting area like a man whose whole world was crumbling. His hands clenched and unclenched. His eyes stayed fixed on the emergency doors.
Minutes felt like hours. Every second stretched unbearably. He could not sit. He could not think. All he could do was whisper to himself, “Please, God. Don’t let anything happen to her. Don’t take her from me.”
At last, after what felt like forever, a doctor came out.
“Are you her husband?” the doctor asked.
“Yes. Yes, I am. How is she?” James replied quickly.
The doctor looked serious. “Your wife has been drinking heavily for several days. From what we can tell, she has not eaten properly during this time. Her body is very weak. She collapsed because her system could no longer handle it.”
James swallowed hard. His chest tightened with guilt. “But… she’s alive?”
“Yes,” the doctor nodded. “She is alive. But if you had delayed bringing her here, even by two more hours, she would not have made it.”
James closed his eyes and exhaled sharply. The words cut him deeply. He imagined what could have happened if he had arrived at the hotel later, if he had ignored her call, if he had not gone looking for her at all. The thought alone terrified him.
“But will she survive?” James asked again.
The doctor placed a hand on his shoulder. “She will survive. We are giving her the treatment she needs. She is very weak, but she is responding. She will recover.”
For the first time in days, James felt a weight lift off his chest. His knees almost gave way from relief.
He whispered to himself, “Thank you, God.”
But even as relief washed over him, questions returned. Where was the baby? Why had Emily turned to alcohol? What had pushed her into such darkness?
Those answers would have to wait. For now, Emily was alive—and that was enough.
Oooh Emily where's the baby
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