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"Egypt… sweetheart, does it still hurt?"
I asked softly as I helped her lean back against the bed.
She shook her head faintly, but I could see the struggle in her eyes. She was trying to be brave, but the pain was written all over her face.
"Don't worry, sweetheart. Your Aunt Amie is on her way. She'll help us take you to the hospital."
Egypt's condition wasn't improving at all. In fact, it seemed to be getting worse. I had only stepped away for a short while, yet her temperature suddenly spiked so high that I knew I couldn't wait any longer—we had to take her to the hospital.
"Mommy… is Egypt going to be okay?"
Paris's worried voice pulled me back.
I reached out and gently placed my hand on her head. Her little face was tense with fear, and I understood why.
Between the two of them, Paris had grown up always seeing Egypt fall ill. She had been so sickly as a child until she turned five, and only recently had her body grown stronger.
