Chapter 3 - The Shadow in the Hallway
The emergency room of Northwestern Memorial Hospital was a blur of harsh fluorescent lights, the smell of antiseptic, and the squeak of rubber shoes on polished floors. They had rushed Lily past the double doors immediately, leaving me standing in the waiting room with my shirt stained with her blood, my mind spinning in endless, agonizing circles.
"Are you the husband?"
I spun around to see a tall, tired-looking doctor in green scrubs. His badge read Dr. Harris, OB/GYN.
"Yes. I'm Adam. Is she okay? Is our baby...?" I couldn't finish the sentence. The word dead choked me.
"Your wife suffered a partial placental abruption," Dr. Harris said, his tone measured but grave. "It caused severe internal bleeding. We’ve managed to stabilize her for the moment, and the baby’s heart rate has stabilized as well. But she is in a highly precarious state. We are putting her on strict bed rest and administering medication to prevent premature labor. The next forty-eight hours are critical."
A rush of relief, so sharp it made me dizzy, washed over me, followed quickly by a cold dread. "What causes that? She was healthy when I left. She was taking care of herself."
Dr. Harris looked at me intently. "Abruptions can happen spontaneously, but they are often triggered by high blood pressure, physical trauma, or extreme emotional stress. Has your wife been under any sudden, severe stress?"
My mother’s face flashed in my mind. Her constant, passive-aggressive phone calls. Her cruel insinuations that Lily was "too secretive," that she "came from nothing" and was only using me.
"I... I don't know," I admitted, hatred for my own ignorance burning in my throat. "I was away on business. I just got back tonight and found her like that."
"We also found minor lacerations on her hands and feet, consistent with the broken glass you mentioned to the paramedics," the doctor added. "But there were also faint, dark bruises on her upper arms. Like someone had held her tightly."
My blood ran cold. Bruises.
"Did she say anything to you before she lost consciousness?" Dr. Harris asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. He wasn't just being a doctor; he was looking for signs of domestic abuse.
"No. Just that she tried to reach the phone and fell," I said, my voice shaking. "Doctor, I swear to you, I would never lay a hand on my wife. I love her more than my own life."
"I believe you, Adam. But someone did. Or she went through something violent. Once she is awake and stable, we’ll need to talk to her. For now, you can see her. Just keep her calm."
I walked into the intensive care room, my heart in my throat. Lily lay beneath the pale hospital sheets, looking tiny amidst the forest of monitors and IV stands. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow but steady.
May you like
I pulled a chair to her bedside and took her pale hand. I looked at her upper arms. Under the harsh hospital lights, the faint, purplish shape of fingers was clearly visible against her porcelain skin.
Someone had been in our home. Someone had put their hands on my pregnant wife.
