Late?

It rained that night, a drizzle one may suggest but it was cold enough for the little one to snuggle in her mother's arms as they watch Spy Wars.

"Mommy, Papa's late." Anya stated.

Yor patted her daughter's head and reassured the child that her father must have been very occupied with work. Not long after, they heard footsteps at the door. Anya sprang up in excitement and opened the laded door for her father to enter.

Drenched in rainwater, the man gave a polite smile to his pretend family as he hooked his belongings on the coat stand. Somehow the bright light in the apartment was not in his favor, the pounding in his head seemed to intensify.

"Loid?" His wife sensed something was off-putting with her husband. Her voice was barely audible to the man but he managed to give them another innocent smile, hoping it would ease their minds.

His facial complexion was as pale as the sheets in the old library while his body looked fragile, waiting to collapse any moment soon. The red tint on the man's mouth was clearly blood.

He then gave a worrying ghastly cough, causing him to lose his balance while he clutched his chest, hoping to relieve the deepening pain.

𝘜𝘨𝘩...𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘪𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘨𝘢𝘴…𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦…

"Ack! Papa! Papa!" Anya started to bawl her eyes out after reading her father's thoughts.

"What's wrong An-" unable to keep up with the throbbing sensation in his head, Loid winched in excruciating pain and immediately collapsed onto his wife - his head resting steadily on her shoulder.

Anya's tears became more uncontrollable after seeing her cool and strong father had fallen unconscious. Even the ever-so-gullible Yor was never this panic-stricken encountering such situation.

Snapping herself back to regain composure, she carried Loid into his bedroom and gently changed his wet clothes to dry ones despite being slightly embarrassed. She tried her best to calm the crying child while asking her to stay by her father's side.

Her hands were clearly shaking when she finally reached the phone; she didn't know who to call or what number to reach out to, she started to curse herself for her hopelessness.

Then, she felt her skirt was being tugged. "Mama, mama! Afro-man!" the little one cried out. Anya had apparently heard her mother's distressed thoughts echoing through the small hallway.

Remembering Loid's past instructions, she dialed the emergency digits that he taught them. After a few anxious beeps, she was greeted with a rugged "Hello?".

Loid's grunts became more and more distinct as time passed by.