Dr. Lambert smiled, though it never reached his eyes.
"All you have to do is write up a misdiagnosis note. Say you mistook the patient's neurological reflex for a sign of recovery."
He was worried Jesse might hesitate.
So he kept explaining.
Everyone had been a beginner once, he said. A small mistake during your residency—people understand that.
He clapped a hand to his own chest.
"Don't worry. I'll cover for you."
"Will you?" Jesse straightened up.
Dr. Lambert nodded.
Jesse turned the computer screen around.
On it was the neurological rehabilitation department's internal group chat.
Eugenia's MRI report sat right there in the thread for everyone to see.
【Dr. Lambert: Bed 5, Miss Pruitt, is awake.】
One after another, people in the chat were quoting the message.
Dr. Lambert's face changed in an instant.
"Jesse, how dare you—?"
"Your medical skill is superb, Dr. Lambert. I have a lot to learn from you."
Leaving the office, Jesse wiped the sweat from his forehead.
He'd staked a lot on that hand.
The odds were anyone's guess.
When he became a doctor, he had taken an oath.
"Honor life. Save the dying, heal the injured."
The patient had a fierce will to live. She wanted to live.
He wanted to help her.
The women's restroom in the rehabilitation department.
"I heard Bed 5 has shown real improvement. A genuine medical miracle!"
"Dr. Lambert's incredible. His specialist consultations are going to cost even more now."
Inside a stall, Andrea panicked.
She had no choice but to go talk to Raymond.
The stairwell.
Raymond checked the steps above and below with care.
It was dead quiet, quiet enough that a voice carried its own echo.
"Raymond, if Eugenia wakes up, I'm finished."
Andrea reached out toward him.
"Will she remember what happened that day?"
Smack!
Raymond knocked her hand away.
"Andrea, you've crossed a line."
The color drained from her face.
The corner of Raymond's mouth curved.
"When Genie wakes up, I'll give her the wedding of the century I owe her."
Every time this man in front of her said "Genie," his eyes softened at the edges.
Did he love her?
And yet last night, this same man, so full of "my beloved wife," had had his hands on Andrea's waist.
Right beside Eugenia's hospital bed, he'd done every shameless thing.
After Raymond left, Andrea made a phone call.
"Mrs. Pruitt, Eugenia isn't doing well… The attending physician says the immediate family needs to make the final decision."
At the top of the stairs, Jesse looked down.
He'd only just stepped out of the director's office, and here was this sordid little scene.
Eugenia's husband, carrying on with her best friend.
So those tears in the ward had all been crocodile tears.
That prickling ran through his palm again.
Two short, three short, one long.
【She】
It was the second thing Eugenia had told him in Morse code.
This "she"—did she mean Nurse Winfield?
Uneasy, Jesse followed close behind Andrea.
A bag of nutrient fluid finished dripping, and the head nurse took down the IV bag.
Half-conscious, I heard the door to the room push open.
"Genie… my baby…"
My mother's voice sounded exhausted.
"Careful, Mrs. Pruitt."
Andrea steadied her, and the two of them came slowly into the room.
My mother seized a young doctor's hand, weeping as she spoke.
"My daughter… is she about to go?"
Jesse studied her.
"You're the patient's mother? Her condition—"
My mother cut him off.
"Doctor, my daughter… she's suffered so much!"
At those words, my heart clenched.
I wanted to tell her I was much better, that I wasn't going to die, not for now.
My father said in his hoarse voice, "Maya Pruitt, don't grieve. There isn't much time left. Go see our daughter again."
"Dad! What are you talking about? Genie's still fine!"
Raymond broke into tears.
Hearing it, Jesse thought how complicated human nature really was.
An unfaithful husband who couldn't bear to let his wife die.
I heard a chair creak, and my mother's hand closed over mine.
These hands had once been full and smooth.
They'd combed my hair, dressed me up, cooked for me…
Now the knuckles jutted out like knots on a tree.
A thin layer of callus had formed on the pads of her fingers.
After my accident, my mother had given up so much.
"Genie."
She shifted closer, took my hand and drew it downward.
All the way to her belly.
Something struck hard at my heart.
My mother had grown so much thinner—so why was her stomach swelling out?
Mom… had I worn her down until she was sick?
My mother smiled.
"Baby, Mommy's carrying your little brother."
"He'll be here to keep your father and me company, so you can go in peace."
Boom—!
My mind split open as if struck by something blunt.
A shrill alarm tore through the air above the room.
Blood pressure surging.
Heart rate rocketing from 58 to 142 in an instant.
The life-support monitor shrieked, wild with alarm.
