Chapter 6: Chapter 6 I’m a Mother Too
A fresh wave of commotion rippled through the crowd.
"Don’t interfere with her treatment!"
Rose had no time to spare for the noise. Dropping to one knee, she pressed two fingers against the side of the child’s neck.
The pulse beneath her fingertips was rapid and thready, the rise and fall of the chest so faint it was barely perceptible, while the lips and nail beds had already taken on a bluish tint—classic signs of airway obstruction.
If Samantha kept pressing like that, the child would suffocate right here.
"Everyone, step back and give her space—she needs air!"
Rose called out, her voice sharp with urgency that left no room for hesitation.
Yet the crowd did not move. Some craned their necks for a better view, others whispered among themselves, but not a single person took a step back.
Her patience snapped.
"Her airway is closing," she said, lifting her head, her voice rising suddenly, each word striking with unmistakable clarity, "and if anything happens in the next two minutes, every one of you shares the blame."
The words hit like a bucket of cold water, silencing the chatter in an instant.
No one dared to speak, and yet, strangely, no one truly moved aside either.
Even now, someone muttered under their breath, "Who does she think she is..."
Then, from the back of the crowd, Ryan’s voice cut through.
"I know her. She’s a doctor. Please, everyone, step back."
It was a simple sentence, but it carried more weight than everything Rose had just said.
The crowd fell quiet at once and parted almost in unison, retreating to either side and clearing a wide circle.
Rose did not have the luxury of dwelling on whatever motives lay behind Ryan’s words. She had already bent over the child, her movements swift and precise as she loosened the girl’s collar and coat.
"Where is her mother?" she called out, scanning the faces around her.
The young mother, who had been pushed to the outer edge, finally snapped out of her daze and rushed forward in a panic.
As Rose continued her examination, she steadied her voice, softening her tone deliberately, speaking slowly as if calming a frightened animal.
"Try not to panic. Take a deep breath and tell me—does your child have any known allergies?"
The woman’s hands trembled uncontrollably, her words tumbling out in fragments that made little sense.
"I... I don’t know, she’s always been fine, never... never like this. Did I miss something? Is it my fault—"
This was not unusual. In emergencies, clear answers were often the first casualty of fear. Rose adapted immediately.
"Alright, then tell me this—why did you come here today?" she asked, shifting her approach.
The question seemed to cut through the chaos in the woman’s mind. She froze for a second, then suddenly found her bearings. "We... we came to visit my niece. Her cousin accidentally ate nuts at kindergarten a few days ago and is still in the hospital. We came to see her..."
Rose’s heart sank, only to steady itself just as quickly.
Nut allergies often ran in families. For a child this young, even trace exposure could trigger a reaction this severe—anaphylactic shock.
"It’s most likely an allergic reaction leading to anaphylaxis," Rose concluded, her tone concise and certain.
The moment she finished speaking, Samantha’s expression stiffened. Then, as though grasping for a way to recover, she turned sharply on the mother.
"How can you not know your own child’s allergies? Why didn’t you say something earlier?"
The mother’s panic deepened instantly. Already blaming herself, she became completely flustered, words collapsing into apology.
"I’m sorry, I—"
"Not your fault," Rose said, without even looking up as she lifted the child’s legs slightly to improve circulation.
Then, in the same steady voice, she added, "Taking a proper history and calming the family is part of a doctor’s job. It’s basic emergency protocol."
She had not named anyone, but anyone who had witnessed the scene understood exactly who she meant.
The atmosphere tightened at once, tension crackling like a drawn wire.
Samantha’s face flushed an angry shade of green, her chin lifting stubbornly as she shot back,
"Oh, so you’re the professional here? Then tell me—what do we do now? There’s no medication here. Can you just conjure it out of thin air?"
As if the moment itself were scripted to contradict her, the sharp wail of a siren cut through the air from a distance—
nee-naw, nee-naw.
The ambulance had arrived.
Two paramedics rushed over with a stretcher, calling out as they approached, "Dr. Bennett! Dr. Bennett!"
Rose stood immediately and raised her hand. "Over here!"
The moment she had heard the cry for help earlier, she had already called for an ambulance, identifying herself as a doctor and providing a preliminary assessment.
As the paramedics reached her, she skipped all pleasantries and extended her hand.
"Epinephrine auto-injector and an oxygen mask. Now."
They responded almost reflexively, moving with practiced efficiency as they handed over the emergency kit.
Rose took the injector without hesitation, pressed it firmly against the outer thigh through the child’s clothing, and held it in place as she counted to ten before withdrawing it.
Immediately afterward, she secured the oxygen mask over the girl’s face, adjusting it with careful precision.
The child’s mother stood beside them, watching helplessly, tears streaming down her face as she choked back sobs.
The seconds that followed felt suffocatingly long.
Then, at last, a faint cough broke the silence.
"Cough... cough..."
The child’s chest loosened slightly, her breathing gradually becoming audible again, while the bluish tint in her lips began to fade, color returning bit by bit.
"Baby! My baby!" the mother cried out in overwhelming relief, reaching instinctively to embrace her.
"Wait," Rose stopped her firmly, "she needs to stay lying flat for now."
"Oh—okay, okay," the woman nodded quickly, her trust now absolute, even tinged with shame at her earlier doubt.
Rose personally lifted the child onto the stretcher and walked alongside as they moved toward the ambulance, her gaze never leaving the small face.
Only after she confirmed that the color had fully returned and the breathing had stabilized did she step back and address the paramedics, her voice quick and precise.
"Observe her for at least four to six hours after admission. Watch for a biphasic reaction. If she shows signs of respiratory distress or spreading rash again, administer medication immediately."
The young mother clutched Rose’s hand, unwilling to let go.
"Doctor, thank you... thank you so much. If it weren’t for you, I can’t even imagine..."
Rose gently patted the back of her hand, her tone softening. "You don’t need to thank me. I’m a doctor. This is what I’m supposed to do."
Perhaps it was the woman’s raw emotion, or perhaps the enclosed safety of the ambulance made her guard slip, but the next words left her mouth without thought.
"And I’m a mother too. I understand how you feel."
She did not notice that, not far from the ambulance, Ryan and Samantha had not left.
Ryan had remained where he was the entire time, and he had heard that sentence with perfect clarity.
Before the ambulance doors had even fully closed, his voice rang out from behind her without warning.
"What did you say?"
Rose froze mid-motion and turned instinctively, meeting Ryan’s suddenly darkened expression.
His eyes locked onto her as though he were seeing her for the first time, scrutinizing her from beginning to end, searching for the hidden meaning behind her words.
"Say that again," he demanded, his voice low and tight. "You said you’re also—what?"
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