Chapter 1: The Bottle
“Why was this in Jasmine’s bag?””
Andre Hayes heard his own voice before he fully understood the words.
The hospital room had gone silent.
A second earlier, Jasmine had been crying so hard she could barely breathe. Now she lay rigid on the examination bed, her small hands gripping the yellow hoodie over her stomach.
Andre stared at the prescription bottle in his palm.
The white label was unmistakable.
*PATIENT: MONICA HAYES.*
His wife stood three feet away, frozen beside the medical cart.
Monica’s beige blouse was perfectly pressed. Her hair was still neat. Her phone remained clutched in one hand.
But her face had changed.
All the color had drained from it.
Nurse Tasha glanced between them.
“Mr. Hayes,” she said carefully, “maybe put the bottle down for a second.””
Andre didn’t move.
“Monica,” he said.
She swallowed.
“What?””
“Why is your prescription in our daughter’s backpack?””
Monica opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Jasmine whimpered from the bed.
Andre immediately turned toward her.
“Baby?””
Jasmine squeezed her eyes shut.
“Dad…”
“I’m right here.””
“My stomach hurts.””
“I know.””
He placed the bottle on the counter, then moved closer to his daughter.
Tasha checked Jasmine’s pulse and watched her breathing.
“Jasmine, look at me,” Tasha said.
“Take a slow breath.””
Jasmine tried.
Her breath caught halfway.
“That’s it,” Tasha said.
“Again.””
Andre looked over his shoulder.
Monica had finally moved.
She stepped toward the backpack.
Andre noticed.
“Don’t.””
Monica stopped.
“I just want to see what else is in there.””
Andre stared at her.
“You already knew it was in there?””
“I didn’t say that.””
“You walked straight toward it.””
Monica’s jaw tightened.
“I’m her mother.””
“And I’m her father.””
Neither spoke.
Tasha quietly picked up the folded medical document from the floor.
She looked at the outside.
Then at Monica.
“Mrs. Hayes,” she said, “this appears to be medical paperwork.””
Monica’s expression sharpened.
“Give that to me.””
Tasha didn’t.
“Whose paperwork?””
Monica hesitated.
Andre saw it.
That hesitation.
It was tiny.
Barely a second.
But he had been married to Monica for nine years.
He knew when she was choosing her words.
“Monica,” he said, “whose paperwork is that?””
“It’s private.””
“Private?””
“Yes.””
“In Jasmine’s backpack?””
Monica rubbed her forehead.
“Andre, you’re making this into something it isn’t.””
Jasmine suddenly spoke.
“She told me not to tell you.””
Monica’s head snapped toward her.
“Jasmine.””
The girl's eyes filled with tears.
Andre turned.
“Who told you not to tell me?””
Jasmine looked at Monica.
Then at her father.
“She did.””
Monica shook her head quickly.
“No. She’s scared. She doesn’t know what she’s saying.””
Jasmine's lower lip trembled.
“I do.””
Andre sat on the edge of the bed.
“Baby, what did she tell you?””
Monica stepped forward.
“Stop asking her questions.””
Andre stood.
“Why?””
“Because she’s sick.””
“That’s why we’re here.””
“No,” Monica whispered.
“You don’t understand.””
Andre stared at her.
“Then help me understand.””
Monica looked toward the door.
For one strange second, Andre thought she might run.
Instead, she reached into her purse.
Her fingers trembled.
“I can explain.””
Andre watched her pull out her phone.
The screen lit up.
A new message appeared.
Monica saw it.
Her eyes widened.
She immediately turned the phone facedown.
Andre noticed.
“Who texted you?””
“Nobody.””
“Monica.””
“Nobody important.””
Tasha looked at the clock.
“Mr. Hayes, I need to examine Jasmine.””
Andre nodded.
“Of course.””
He turned back toward his daughter.
But before he could take another step, Jasmine whispered something so softly that only he heard it.
“Dad…”
He leaned closer.
“What?””
“Don’t let her take the bag.””
Andre looked at the red backpack sitting on the chair.
Then he looked at Monica.
And this time, his wife wasn't looking at the backpack.
May you like
She was looking at the door.
As if she was waiting for someone to walk through it.
