Chapter 3: The Name on the Paper
The door opened.
Andre turned immediately.
A hospital orderly stood outside holding a clipboard.
“Sorry,” the man said.
“Wrong room.””
He closed the door.
Andre didn't sit down.
Neither did Monica.
Jasmine stared at the floor.
Tasha quietly checked her pulse.
“Jasmine, sweetheart, are you feeling dizzy?””
“A little.””
“Any nausea?””
Jasmine nodded.
Tasha glanced toward Andre.
“We should keep monitoring her.””
Andre nodded.
“Absolutely.””
Monica stepped toward him.
“Can we talk outside?””
“No.””
“Please.””
“Not until you tell me what's happening.””
She lowered her voice.
“Not here.””
Andre looked at Jasmine.
Then at Tasha.
Then back at his wife.
“Why?””
Monica's eyes flicked toward the document in his hand.
“Because you don't understand what you're holding.””
“Then explain it.””
“I can't.””
“You can.””
“I said I can't.””
Andre unfolded the document.
Monica lunged.
He pulled it away.
“Don't.””
“Give it to me.””
“No.””
“Andre, please!””
Her voice cracked loudly enough that Jasmine jumped.
Tasha moved between them.
“Everybody needs to take a breath.””
Andre looked down at the paper.
There was a hospital logo at the top.
Below it were several lines of typed information.
He couldn't see the entire page.
A crease ran straight through the middle.
“Why is this folded?””
Monica wiped beneath one eye.
“Because I didn't want Jasmine to see it.””
Jasmine looked up.
“I already saw it.””
Andre's heart sank.
“What did you see?””
Jasmine hesitated.
“A name.””
“What name?””
She looked at Monica.
Monica shook her head.
Jasmine whispered, “Marcus.””
Andre's expression changed.
“Who is Marcus?””
Monica closed her eyes.
“No one.””
Andre stared at her.
“That's not an answer.””
“It's the only answer you're getting.””
“Is Marcus a doctor?””
“No.””
“A nurse?””
“No.””
“Someone from the hospital?””
Monica didn't respond.
Andre stepped closer.
“Is Marcus the reason you were hiding this?””
“No.””
Jasmine suddenly spoke.
“He called you.””
Monica looked at her sharply.
“Jasmine.””
“You told him you couldn't talk because Dad was home.””
Andre felt something cold move through his chest.
“When?””
“Last night.””
Monica shook her head.
“You're confused.””
“I heard you.””
“You were asleep.””
“I wasn't.””
Andre looked at Monica.
“Who is Marcus?””
She stared at the floor.
“It's complicated.””
“That is what people say when the truth is simple but ugly.””
Tasha glanced at Andre.
“Mr. Hayes—”
“I need to know.””
Monica's hands were shaking now.
“I didn't want you to find out like this.””
Andre's voice dropped.
“Find out what?””
She didn't answer.
He looked at the prescription bottle.
Then the document.
Then Jasmine.
His daughter was watching her mother as if she were waiting for something terrible to happen.
Andre knelt beside her.
“Jasmine, did Mom ask you to hide the bottle?””
“No.””
“Did someone else?””
Jasmine nodded.
Andre's face tightened.
“Who?””
She looked toward the door.
“Marcus.””
Monica's eyes widened.
“That isn't possible.””
Andre stood.
“Why isn't it possible?””
“Because Marcus hasn't been here.””
“How do you know?””
“Because…”
She stopped.
Andre waited.
“Because he can't come here.””
“Why?””
Monica's lips parted.
No sound came.
Then her phone buzzed.
Everyone looked at it.
Monica didn't move.
The phone buzzed again.
Andre reached for it.
“Don't.””
He stopped.
“Who is it?””
Monica stared at the screen.
“I don't know.””
“You don't know?””
She shook her head.
Andre took one step toward her.
“Then why are you scared?””
Monica backed away.
The phone buzzed a third time.
This time, the screen lit up.
A message preview appeared.
Andre saw only one sentence before Monica grabbed the phone.
*He knows about Jasmine.*
Andre's face went cold.
“Who sent that?””
Monica said nothing.
He looked at Jasmine.
She was crying again.
Then Andre looked at the prescription bottle in his hand.
“Monica,” he said, “who is Marcus?””
She finally looked at him.
And this time, there was no anger in her face.
Only fear.
“Your brother.””
Andre stopped breathing.
May you like
His brother had been dead for twelve years.
And Monica had just said his name.
