The night was completely silent until the heavy telephone rang on the wooden nightstand.
Sarah sat up instantly in the dark bedroom with her heart pounding hard in her chest.
She grabbed the phone before the second ring could wake up the entire quiet neighborhood.
The voice on the other end belonged to a frantic nurse at the city hospital.
She told Sarah that her newborn son was struggling to breathe in the intensive care unit.
David turned on the lamp and saw the pure terror spread across his wife's pale face.
He did not ask any questions because he already knew that something was horribly wrong.
They had left their baby boy Jonah at the clinic under strict medical observation earlier that evening.
The tiny infant had been born three weeks early and needed constant oxygen support from machines.
Eight-year-old Leo pushed open the bedroom door while clutching his small blue school backpack tightly.
He had been awake in his room drawing pictures for his new little brother all night.
He asked his parents why the house felt so scary and why his mother was crying.
Sarah pulled Leo into a tight embrace and tried her best to hide her shaking hands.
She whispered that they had to hurry to the hospital right away to help baby Jonah.
David grabbed the car keys off the kitchen counter and sprinted toward the dark garage.
The rain was pouring down heavily against the front windshield as they drove through the night.
Nobody said a single word during the ten-minute drive down the empty highway roads.
Leo looked out the wet window and held a tiny plastic toy bear in his lap.
He had promised himself that he would protect his baby brother no matter what happened.
When they pulled up to the glass hospital doors, David slammed the car into park instantly.