And for the first time in twenty years—
I wanted to pull away.
I looked at the boy who had carried my backpack in elementary school.
The teenager who waited outside my house before prom.
The man I had loved nearly my entire life.
And realized I might not know him at all.
THE NURSE SAW MY FACE
When visiting hours ended, Ethan encouraged me to go home.
“Sleep.”
“I will.”
I stepped into the hallway.
The nurse from earlier was stocking a cart.
She looked at me.
Then whispered:
“You looked.”
I nodded.
“The reports say he isn’t sick.”
Her eyes closed briefly.
“I’m sorry.”
“What else do you know?”
“Nothing for certain.”
“You said Ethan and Dr. Klein had a plan.”
“I know.”
“What plan?”
“I don’t know.”
She lowered her voice.
“I’ve been a nurse here seven years. Patients do not normally hide real lab results beneath mattresses.”
“Did you report it?”
“I tried asking questions.”
“And?”
“I was told to stop.”
My stomach twisted.
“What am I supposed to do?”
She looked toward the administrative elevators.
“Go upstairs.”
“To who?”
“Hospital administration.”
THE HOSPITAL OPENED AN INVESTIGATION
The next morning, I told Ethan I was going home to shower.
Instead, I walked directly into administration at Willowcrest Medical Center.
I showed the administrator the photographs.
She studied each one.
Then opened Ethan’s electronic chart.
Her expression changed.
“These reports aren’t here.”
“What does that mean?”
She looked at me.
“It means somebody replaced or altered part of his medical record.”
“Can that happen?”
“Not legally.”
I stared at her.
“If somebody falsified Ethan’s cancer diagnosis…”
She leaned forward.
“…this is no longer just a hospital issue.”
“What is it?”
“A criminal one.”
