My 16-year-old son saved a newborn from the cold – The next day, a police officer showed up at our door

"They are on their way."

Panic overwhelmed me.

"Are you crazy? We need to call for help!" I told him. "Right away, Jax!"

"I've already done it," he replied. "They're on their way."

He held the baby close and wrapped it in his leather jacket. He was only wearing a t-shirt underneath.

He was trembling, but he seemed not to mind.

Her lips had taken on a bluish tint.

The baby occupied his full attention.

"I'm keeping him warm until they arrive. Otherwise, he could die here."

It was simple, without drama.

I approached and really looked.

The baby's skin was mottled and pale. Its lips had a bluish tint. Its little fists were clenched so tightly they seemed to be in pain.

He let out a small, tired cry.

"Everything's fine. We're here."

I ripped off my scarf and wrapped it around both of them, slipping it over the baby's head and around Jax's shoulders.

"Hey, little guy," Jax whispered. "It's okay. We're here. Hang on. Stay with me, okay?"

He slowly rubbed the baby's back with his thumb.

My eyes were burning.

"How long have you been here?"

"Five minutes? Maybe," he replied. "It seemed longer to me."

Rage and sadness overwhelmed me simultaneously.

"Have you seen anyone?" I scanned the dark outlines of the park.

"No. Just him. On the bench. Wrapped in that sheet."

Rage and sadness overwhelmed me simultaneously.

Someone had abandoned this baby here. On a night like this.

The sirens shattered the silence.

An ambulance worker knelt down, his eyes already fixed on the baby.

An ambulance and a patrol car arrived, their flashing lights reflecting off the snow.

Two paramedics jumped out of the vehicle, carrying bags and a large thermal blanket. A police officer followed them, his coat half-buttoned.

"This way!" I shouted, waving my arms.

They rushed towards me.

An ambulance worker knelt down, his eyes already fixed on the baby.

They took care of him even before the wheels started moving again.

"His temperature is low," he murmured, taking him from Jax's arms. "Let's take him inside."

The baby let out a soft whimper when he was lifted.

Jax's arms went limp, suddenly empty.

They wrapped the baby in a real blanket and rushed him into the ambulance. The doors closed. They attended to him even before the wheels started moving.

"He gave his jacket to the baby."

The officer turned towards us.

"What happened?" he asked.

“I was walking in the park,” Jax replied. “He was sitting on the bench, wrapped up in this.” He nodded toward the crumpled blanket. “I called 911 and tried to keep him warm.”

The policeman stared at him: pink hair, piercings, black clothes, no jacket in this freezing cold.

"I didn't want him to die, that's all."

I saw judgment in his eyes. Then, I saw a change take place.

He looked at me.

"That's what happened," I said calmly. "He gave his jacket to the baby."

The policeman nodded slowly.

"You probably saved that baby's life."

He looked at my son with a certain respect.

" How are you ? "

Jax stared at the ground.

"I didn't want him to die," he whispered.

They took our details, asked a few more questions, then left. The red taillights disappeared into the darkness.

Back inside, my hands kept trembling until I wrapped them around a cup of tea.

Jax was sitting at the kitchen table, leaning over his hot chocolate.

"I keep hearing it."

"Are you okay?" I asked him.

He shrugged.

"I keep hearing it," he said. "That little cry."

"You did everything right," I replied. "You found him. You called for help. You stayed by his side. You kept him warm."

"I didn't think," he told me. "I just... heard it and my feet started moving."

"That's usually what heroes say," I replied.

"Please don't tell people your son is a 'hero,' Mom."

He looked up at the sky.

“Please don’t tell people your son is a ‘hero,’ Mom,” he said. “I still have to go to school.”

We went to bed late.

Lying in my bed, I stared at the ceiling, thinking about that little baby with blue lips and trembling shoulders.

Was he alright? Did he have someone?

I opened the door to a uniformed police officer.

The next morning, I was halfway through my first coffee when there was a knock at the door.

It wasn't a light blow. It was a sharp, firm blow.

My stomach turned.

I opened the door to a uniformed police officer.

He looked exhausted. His eyes were red. His jaw was clenched.

"Are you Mrs. Collins?"

"Yes," I replied cautiously.

"Is he in trouble?"

"I'm Officer Daniel," he said, showing his badge. "I need to speak with your son about last night."

My mind raced and I imagined the worst.

"Is he in trouble?" I asked.

"No," replied Daniel. "Nothing like that."

I called from the top of the stairs.

"I didn't do anything."

"Jax! Come here for a second!"

He came downstairs in a tracksuit and socks, his pink hair a mess, a little toothpaste on his chin.

He saw the officer and froze.

"I didn't do anything," he exclaimed.

Daniel's mouth trembled.

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