Time seemed to stop.
Mark knelt slowly and looked under the bed.
Our eyes met.
All the color drained from his face.
Mark didn’t say a word at first.
He just stared at me under the bed, his face drained of color, his eyes wide with disbelief and fear. In that instant, I saw something shift inside him. The pieces were falling into place, fast and painfully.
“What?” he whispered. “What is she talking about?”
Before anyone could answer, everything unraveled at once.
Mark stood up sharply and turned toward the room. “Someone explain to me right now why my wife is hiding under a hospital bed.”
Linda stepped forward, her voice smooth but strained. “Mark, you’re misunderstanding. She’s confused. Childbirth can—”
“Stop,” he snapped.
The doctor cleared his throat. “Mr. Reynolds, the consent forms were already signed. We were preparing to—”
“To do what?” Mark demanded.
The nurse with the blue-striped shoes took a step back, her face pale. “I was told the family approved the next steps.”
“By who?” Mark said again, louder this time.
No one answered.
Mark turned to Emily. “Sweetheart,” he said gently, “tell me exactly what you heard.”
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