CHAPTER 5
1423 Words
Abigail Donovan walked in at exactly noon.
I recognized her immediately from that night. But seeing her up close was different.
With her long black hair neatly braided down her back, she was beautiful in an innocent, almost childlike way. It made you want to lower your guard without realizing it.
I adjusted myself in the car, lowering the mirror just enough to check my face. I straightened my uniform and clipped on the tag I’d bought earlier, sliding the ID into place and pressing it flat against my chest.
One slow breath.
Then I stepped out.
Inside, I kept my head lowered, replying to greetings with soft mumbles as I walked past. I didn’t slow down long enough for anyone to really see me.
My focus stayed on Abigail, a few steps ahead.
She stopped by a door.
**Dr. Andrew Sloane**
*Fertility Specialist*
She knocked twice, then went inside.
I continued on, spotting a nurse’s station nearby. It was close enough, so I took a seat, and spread a few files in front of me to look busy.
My eyes stayed fixed on the door.
It couldn’t have been more than five minutes when the first distraction came.
“Excuse me, nurse.”
I didn’t move.
“Hello. Nurse?”
I turned, startled, and found a man standing too close, clutching a slip of paper.
“Oh. Sorry. What was that?”
“The radiology building. Where can I find it?”
I hesitated, then pointed down the hall.
“That way. Take a right. Someone there should help you.”
He studied me for a second, nodded slowly, and walked off.
Another voice immediately replaced him.
Then another.
Soon there were more voices, questions stacked over one another, directions I didn’t have answers to. They gathered until the door faded out of view entirely. Their noise pressed me in, blurring my thoughts.
I grabbed my phone in a desperate attempt to get away.
“Hello,” my voice rose sharply. “Yes. I’ll be right there.”
I pushed myself up, palms flattening against the desk. The soft thud cut through the noise.
“I’m sorry, I’ve been called.”
I gathered a few of the files without waiting for a response and walked away toward the office door, phone still pressed to my ear, slowing just enough to hover within earshot.
“Mrs. Donovan,” the doctor spoke gently. “The test results are back. I’m sorry but they’re still negative. There are no indications that anything has changed.”
There was brief silence.
“What about the other tests you spoke about?” Abigail asked, her voice calm. “The newer ones.”
He exhaled.
“Ma’am, as your doctor, I strongly advise we stop for now. These procedures are invasive. They’re taking more from your body than they are giving. You need time.”
Her reply came quietly.
“Oh. Okay.”
A scraping sound followed, like a chair being pushed back.
I stepped away, giving just enough distance as the door opened.
Abigail came out first. Her face twisted with a mix of disappointment and something heavier.
A tall, lean man followed close behind, presumably the doctor. He stopped at the doorframe, murmured something low, meant only for her, and rested a hand briefly on her shoulder.
She nodded once and gave a small smile.
Then he stepped back into the office, the door closing softly behind him.
Abigail turned and started down the hall.
I waited. Counted my steps. Timed it.
Just as she reached me, I moved.
We collided lightly, enough for the folders in my arms to slip free. Papers scattered across the floor, fanning out between our feet.
“Oh my, I’m so sorry,” she blurted, already crouching. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
“I should have seen you too.” I dropped down with her. “That was my fault.”
We gathered papers side by side, knees brushing. The hall felt suddenly too quiet.
She straightened after picking up the last sheet. “Please forgive my clumsiness, nurse…” Her eyes squinted as she read my badge. “…Felicia.”
“Gloria,” I replied immediately. “Felicia is my mother’s name.”
She looked up then. Close enough for me to see it. The redness around her eyes. The faint tear streaks she hadn’t quite managed to clean off.
“Is everything okay?”
She lifted the back of her hand, dabbing at her face. “Y…Yes. Everything is… it’s fine.”
I studied her for a moment, brows furrowed into a frown.
“Are you sure?” My expression softened. “I know you don’t know me, but you’d be surprised how easy it is talking to someone you won’t have to see again.”
She shook her head, trying to smile. “Really, it’s…it’s nothing. I—”
Her voice broke.
She began to sob, shoulders trembling as the tears came fast. I glanced down the corridor, then back at her.
“Come,” I murmured. “Let’s sit somewhere more comfortable.”
She nodded, wiping at her cheeks.
I led her outside to a small bench on the other side of the hospital, the one I’d noticed earlier when I parked. We sat there, away from the noise, away from the doors.
I reached into my bag and pulled out a small pack of tissues, holding it out to her without a word.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “You’re very kind.”
I waited while she wiped her eyes, blew her nose softly, and drew in a steadier breath.
When she seemed settled, I spoke. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
She stared at her hands for a moment. “A few years ago… my husband and I got pregnant.” She paused. “There was an accident. A car accident. I lost the baby.”
She kept her eyes low as she continued. “At the hospital, they told me my chances after that were very small.”
“I’ve been coming here ever since. Tests. Procedures. For almost two years now, but nothing has worked.”
She exhaled shakily. “And now my doctor says I need to stop. That the tests are doing more harm than good.”
The tears came again, faster this time.
“He’s basically telling me to give up,” she choked. “To abandon my dream of ever being a mother.”
I slid closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into me, sobbing openly now, tissues crumpling in her hands.
“I’m so sorry you’re going through this,” I whispered. “I really am.”
She cried for a while before I spoke again.
“My sister couldn’t have children either,” I said quietly. “It broke her in ways none of us understood at the time. We lost her because of it.”
Abigail lifted her head, eyes wide with shock. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s all right,” I replied. “I’ve learned to live with it. It still hurts, but I manage.”
“All I’m trying to say is this. You don’t have to give up. But maybe you do need to rest. Let your body heal. Sometimes strength looks like taking a break.”
She nodded slowly. “You’re right. I’ve been pushing myself too hard.”
She wiped her face again. “Thank you. It feels lighter saying this out loud.”
“It’s my pleasure, miss.” I told her.
“Please,” she glanced at me, “Call me Abigail.”
I smiled. “Then it’s my pleasure, Abigail.”
For the first time since I’d seen her that day, she smiled properly. “Would you mind if I got your number? I think I might need someone to talk to… sometimes.”
“Of course,” I said without hesitation. “Anytime.”
She typed my number into her phone, fingers still trembling slightly.
After a moment, she stood. “I should get going.”
“Did you drive?”
She nodded.
“Then let me walk you.”
At her car, she rolled the window down. “Thank you again, Gloria. Truly.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied. “Drive safe.”
She smiled once more, then drove off.
I stood there, waving, until the car disappeared down the street.
Jackpot.
- Writer
