I skidded to a stop at the nurse's station and breathlessly asked for directions. The woman glanced at her computer then gave me a room number and pointed me down the correct hallway.

My shoes clanged loudly on the shiny floor as I ran, the hospital sounds closing in around me. After a handful of seconds that felt like hours, I saw them standing outside the room.

"Mike!" I gasped.

He turned towards me and I saw an unaccustomed anxiety on his face before I threw my arms around him.

"He's okay, Michonne, he's okay," Mike reassured me.

I took what felt like the first full breath of air since I'd hung up the phone.

"He's in there?" I asked, looking at the door, something like dread radiating from my chest and all through my body.

Mike nodded and I took another deep breath before pushing open the door.

My son looked lost and confused and so, so small lying there in the adult-sized hospital bed, white bandages wrapped around his arms and around his chest.

"Oh, Andre baby, mommy's here," I cried, rushing to his side, "I'm here, love, I'm here."

As soon as he saw me, he burst into tears and reached his arms up for me. I hugged him tenderly, my heart wrenching.

"Ma'am," someone said.

I looked up and realized that there was someone else in the room.

"My name is Doctor Caleb Subramanian, but you can call me Dr. S." he said in a calm voice, "I'll be taking care of Andre while he's here with us at Grady Memorial."

"What happened?!" I asked, struggling to take it all in.

"There appears to have been an accident involving some hot water in the kitchen, according to your husband," he began.

"-boyfriend," I corrected him absently. It was a small distinction, all things considered.

The doctor nodded and continued, putting his hands in the pockets of his white coat, "He has first degree burns on both arms, on his left hand, and a small patch on his stomach. If we keep his bandages clean and give him some antibiotics, just in case, he'll heal up quickly and with minimal scarring."

Listening to his even voice helped calm my heart. It occurred to me that seeing me crying must have upset Andre even more.

I wiped my face and told the doctor, "Thank you."

"You're gonna be alright, baby. It's going to be alright," I sang to Andre gently, stroking his head.

The doctor made some notes on a chart while I comforted Andre. After a few minutes, he calmed down again and I tucked him back into bed.

"I gave him something for the pain earlier. The best thing to do for now is to let him rest," Dr. S. said.

I settled into the chair beside the bed and held Andre's hand, the one not hidden in a bandage. He was already blinking slowly and drifting off to sleep.

"I know it looks bad, but the burns are relatively minor. With the right treatment, he should be entirely healed in two to three weeks. You got lucky today. It could have been much, much worse," the doctor told me.

I was at a loss for words so I ended up wiping my eyes once more and staring at him. I looked down at my son, who had fallen into a fitful sleep.

"If you don't have any more questions, I need to go check on my other patients now. I'll be back to see you in an hour or so," Dr. S. told me.

I nodded, unable to look away from Andre, and he left us alone.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart...I'm so sorry..." I whispered to Andre, caressing his tiny hand.

After a while, Andre was in a deep sleep, the blanket pulled up to his chin. Slowly, I felt my head clearing away the residual panic.

He would be okay. The doctor said he'll be okay. Nothing we can't handle, I told myself.

I frowned. I couldn't quite put my finger on it but something about what the doctor had said left me feeling uneasy.

"Mike?" I said aloud and was momentarily surprised when he didn't answer.

Mike and Terry were still standing outside in the hallway. I could see them through the big window, but their backs were to the glass.

Glancing back at Andre to make sure he was still sleeping, I went outside to join them.

"Mike," I started.

"How is he?" Mike asked before I could say anything else.

"Sleeping," I answered, which Mike would have known if he was in the room where he should have been.

"Tell me what happened," I said.

"It was an accident. It all happened so fast...I put some water on the stove, was gonna make ramen or something, I don't know. He must have wandered over, bumped something, and it fell," Mike recounted.

I looked between him and Terry, who stood back a little and couldn't quite meet my eyes.

"You let him wander around the kitchen while you were cooking?" I asked, confused.

"No...I thought he was in his room, baby," Mike said, trying hard to be evasive without being obvious, but I knew him too well for that.

"How did you not know he was in the kitchen? Where were you?" I asked, my voice rising. Suddenly it was very urgent that I figure out exactly what happened.

"I was in the other room, okay? I told you, it was an accident," Mike said, putting his hands on my shoulders, "You know I would never want something like this to happen...I'm worried about him too."

"Then what are you doing standing out here like an idiot?" I asked sharply.

Mike was briefly taken aback. I could see him steeling himself for an argument but my thoughts were racing. I knocked his hands off my shoulders with an angry gesture.

"What about the baby gate? You didn't think to close the baby gate? If he's not in his room, you have to watch him, Mike, you know that! What were you doing?!" I spat question after question.

"Michonne, babe, I told you it was an accident. I don't even know how it happened. Andre somehow knocked the water off the stove by accident, that's all," Mike said in an overly placating tone.

Terry, usually quick to add his voice, was staring at his shoes.

I stared hard at the two of them.

Mike and Terry had been best friends since even before I met them. They were practically inseparable, so much so that people sometimes spread rumors about the three of us. None of those rumors were true, of course. Mike was the only man I loved, while Terry bounced from girlfriend to girlfriend with the seasons.

We were like the three musketeers. Hell, we even dressed as the three musketeers for Halloween one year. I could tell when there was something they didn't want me to know.

I narrowed my eyes at them, thinking hard. Then I leaned a little closer to Mike and sniffed once, then again. My eyes widened with surprise and the beginnings of fury.

"Have you been smoking?" I asked him in a low voice.

"What-" Mike started but I cut him off, already knowing the answer.

"Are you high right now?!" I demanded and, by the look on his face, he didn't even have to answer.

I knew that Mike and Terry liked to smoke weed once in a while. I wasn't into that but they didn't do it often, and only when I wasn't around. It wasn't a big deal. Until now.

I squeezed my eyes shut and covered my face with my clenched fists, trying to hold the anger in.

"Come on, it's not like that, Michonne," Mike pleaded, "It's me, okay? It's not that bad, come one."

"How is it not that bad, Mike?! How?" I exploded, "The doctor, he said it could have been worse! He said I was lucky. Like it was only luck that it wasn't worse!"

Now I was the woman I never wanted to be, the angry girlfriend who fought with her man in public, but I was so furious that I couldn't stop.

"You weren't even watching him, were you? He's your son, Mike! What the hell were you doing?" I shouted.

"I told you, it was an accident!" Mike repeated.

"Stop! Just stop!" I yelled.

Now people were stopping to notice, so I lowered my voice a little.

"He's only three! It's not an accident because he's three and he doesn't know any better! You should have been watching him!" I berated Mike.

"I was! I was watc-" he tried.

"No! You weren't! You weren't watching him!" I was shouting again.

"Excuse me, is there a problem here? Do I need to call security?" suddenly a large man in a white doctor's coat interrupted.

"No, no, sir," Mike tried to diffuse the situation, spinning some excuse.

Mike and Terry managed to talk him down. The man backed off. I watched them as if in a daze. A cold rage gripped my heart and wouldn't let go.

Mike reached out a hand to touch me.

"Walk away. Now," I ordered, my voice low and hard.

A flicker of fear brushed across Mike's features. His hand fell back to his side. My face was a steely mask.

"Come on, man, let's go," Terry said softly, putting a hand on Mike's shoulder.

Mike turned away slowly and they disappeared down the hall together. The doctor who had interrupted gave me a small nod and went back to work.

I stayed by Andre's side for the rest of the time that he was in the hospital. The nurses brought a small cot into the room for me to sleep on at night.

It took two whole days for Mike to show his face in front of me again.

I was sitting by Andre's bed reading a story to him while he dozed. I heard a tapping on the window and turned to see Mike standing outside, a large bouquet of flowers and a big 'Get Well Soon' balloon in his hands, a hesitant smile on his face.

This is what he always did when we fought, although we'd never had a fight as bad as this. He would always come back with flowers and an apology, and we'd make up. It wasn't about the flowers, really. It was a sign of dedication, of love.

I went out to talk with him, intending to put the flowers on the table by Andre's bed, watch my son smile when Mike showed him the colorful balloon, but that's not what happened.

I listened to Mike apologize and tell me how much he loves me, how badly he wanted to make things right, how much he hated fighting with me, and I believed every word. But those weren't the words I needed to hear.

If there's anything I'm sure of in this life, it's that Mike loves me with his whole heart. He truly adores me.

But that's not enough anymore. He loves me, but he doesn't love Andre, not enough anyway.

So I stood there in front of Mike but all I could see was Andre with tears in his eyes and white bandages on his arms and all I could hear was Dr. S. saying 'It could have been much, much worse.'

My chest felt empty and I realized that I didn't want to let Mike back in. For the first time ever, I simply didn't want to see him or hear him or touch him. I didn't want to forgive him.

Mike held out the flowers, making his promises, but I couldn't take them.

One question filled my mind.

Is this what falling out of love feels like?