Page 34 of Rescue

Today, Jon is leaving. My heart feels too heavy in my chest, like it’s sinking lower with every step we take toward the bus.

Layla walks between us, holding Jon’s hand tightly. Her usual chatter is nowhere to be found, replaced by a quiet that feels wrong for a child so full of life. I try to keep my own emotions in check, offering her a smile when she glances up at me with her big, glassy eyes.

The bus comes to a stop, its door creaking open, and Mrs. Hughes, the cheerful driver, leans out with a wave. “Morning, Layla! Morning, Abigail!”

“Good morning,” I manage to say, though my voice feels strained. Layla doesn’t answer. Her hand tightens around Jon’s, and I see her bottom lip tremble ever so slightly.

Jon kneels down, his hands resting gently on her small shoulders. “Hey, Sunshine,” he says softly. “You’ve got a big day ahead of you. School, your friends, and who knows what adventures, right?”

Layla sniffles, her eyes shimmering with tears she’s trying so hard to hold back. “But you won’t be here when I get back.”

His jaw tightens for a moment, and I see him swallow hard before answering. “No, I won’t. But you’re going to be just fine, Layla. You’re brave, and smart, and you’ve got your mum. She’s the best, isn’t she?”

Layla nods, her chin wobbling as she looks at me. “Yeah.”

“And you know what?” Jon continues, his voice warm and steady. “I’ll always remember you. How could I not? You’re unforgettable.”

A small, tearful smile breaks through her sadness. “Really?”

“Really,” he assures her, tapping the tip of her nose gently. “Now, promise me you’ll keep being the amazing sunshine that you are, alright?”

Layla flings her arms around his neck, burying her face against his shoulder. “I’ll miss you, Doctor Jon.”

He hugs her tightly, his face buried in her hair. “I’ll miss you too, Sunshine.”

I stand there, frozen, my heart aching as I watch this exchange. It’s more than just a goodbye—it’s the breaking of a bond, a connection that grew stronger than I ever expected in such a short time. Layla pulls back, wiping her eyes on her sleeve, and Jon stands, his face carefully composed.

“Go on,” he says, his voice just a little rough. “The bus is waiting.”

Layla nods, sniffing again as she takes her backpack from me and climbs the steps of the bus. She pauses at the top, looking back at Jon one last time. He waves, a small but steady motion, and she waves back before disappearing inside.

The bus door closes with a hiss, and it rolls forward slowly, taking my little girl off to school and leaving a quiet void in its wake.

I glance at Jon, his hands now shoved into his pockets, his eyes fixed on the retreating bus. He’s so still, so composed, but I can feel the weight of his emotions as clearly as I feel my own.

“She’ll be okay,” I say softly, though it’s as much for my benefit as his.

Jon nods, his gaze still on the road. “She’s tougher than I am.”

My chest tightens, and I fight the urge to reach out to him, to say something that could fill the silence hanging between us. But nothing feels like enough, so I stay quiet, standing by his side as we watch the bus disappear down the lane.

The sound of water splashing against the sink fills the quiet kitchen as I rinse the breakfast dishes, trying to focus on the mundane task instead of the ache that’s been settling in my chest all morning. The sun streams through the window, but it doesn’t do much to lift the heaviness in the air.

I hear footsteps behind me and turn to see Jon standing in the doorway. He looks calm, his bag slung over one shoulder, his suitcase behind him, but there’s a tension in his eyes that betrays him.

“Heading out?” I ask, my voice softer than usual.

“Yeah,” he replies, stepping further into the room. “Thought I’d come and say goodbye before I go.”

I dry my hands on a towel, trying to push down the lump forming in my throat. “All set for London?”

“As much as I can be.” He leans against the counter, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint smile. “Not exactly looking forward to it, though.”

I nod. “The investigation?”

“Yeah.” His expression darkens slightly. “It’s not just the questions they’ll ask—it’s everything I’ve been avoiding, you know? I’ll have to face it all, again.”

I step closer to him, instinctively reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “Jon, you’ve been facing it. Just being here, opening up about it, that’s part of the process. You’re stronger than you think.”

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