When the daylight has faded

Knots (#heat)

The bed creaks as he lowers his body onto the mattress. Careful not to stir the air, he strokes her hair. His other hand tugs at the tie, loosening the knot in an attempt to let more oxygen through and slow down his heartbeat.

His presence must have invaded her dreams anyway because one of her eyes opens slowly, then the other.

"Daddy!" she exclaims with a tired laugh when she spots him. Her laugh turns into concern, though, when her eyes focus and she notices the lines around his eyes and mouth, his unnatural pallor. "What's wrong, Daddy? Are you okay?"

He nods. "Fine, Sweet Pea! I didn't mean to wake you up. Just wanted to see you before hitting the covers. Sorry!"

His daughter unties the knot that he couldn't and pulls off the tie. He draws a deep breath, but his lungs are too constricted to fill.

"I miss you so much. I'm glad I woke up."

Guilt hits him hard.

The company went to him after his father's near-fatal heart attack more than ten years ago. Under his leadership it has grown into a global player, with around 8000 employees and production locations in Europe, Asia and America.

His father couldn't be any prouder, his daughter any lonelier, he stretched any thinner between their individual needs and the global crisis threatening to destroy the livelihood of so many.

"I miss you, too, Sweat Pea." His voice sounds weak even to his own ears. He tries to unbutton the top button of his shirt but his hands are shaking too much.

His daughter's eyes widen in alarm, while her hands accomplish the task his didn't.

"Dad? Let me phone an ambulance. I can't lose you, too."

He shakes his head.

"I'm just a little tired. I haven't slept in nearly 60 hours and I've traded my bed for the office couch for the last two weeks. A good night's sleep is all I need."

She climbs out of bed.

"Hey, where do you think you're going? It's a school night."

"You've lost so much weight. Your trousers look as if you've stolen them from your big brother. I'm heating up Marlene's leftover lasagne for you. You'd better eat it all up or I'll tell Marlene, and then she'll quit and you'll be out of a babysitter." She pauses for dramatic effect. "Not that your ten-year-old daughter needs a sitter. You could do with one, though."

His feet dragging across the carpet, he follows his daughter into the kitchen and picks up the spoon she has provided. The knot in his stomach is tighter than the one in his tie earlier, and he's sure that he won't get a bite through his oesophagus, even if he chewed it down to its atomic level.

He shoves a tiny spoonful into his mouth. The heat of the pasta seems to surround him suddenly. He gasps for air, sure his side is on fire. Everything goes black.

* * * *

His eyes open. He's lying in a hospital bed, his daughter holding his hands, tears streaming down her face.

"A heart attack, Dad! Just like papa! Maybe now you realise the company isn't the only child you have that needs you."