They left their two-month-old with me while they went shopping. But his desperate crying wouldn’t stop. I checked his diaper and what I found made my hands tremble. I grabbed him and rushed to the hospital.

The taxi ride felt endless.

Every red light was unbearable. Every second stretched thin with fear.

“Please,” I kept saying to the driver, my voice shaking, “it’s a baby—please go faster.”

In the backseat, I held my grandson close to my chest, trying to steady his tiny body as his cries turned hoarse and uneven. His face was flushed, his little fists clenched, his breathing no longer steady.