Silence returned, heavier this time, because now it wasn’t about medicine, it was about responsibility, and possibly something much worse.
Isabelle slowly stood up, her hands still trembling, her eyes fixed on the tiny fragment placed in a sterile tray beside the incubator.
“It looks… cut,” she whispered, her voice fragile, as if saying it louder would make it more real.
The younger doctor leaned closer, examining it again under better light, his expression tightening as details became clearer.
“It does,” he admitted quietly, his earlier confidence now replaced by something closer to unease.
Leo stood near the doorway, unsure if he should leave or stay, feeling like he had already stepped too far into a world that wasn’t his.
But something inside him told him this wasn’t finished.
Not yet.
Richard turned again, slower this time, his eyes scanning every face in the room, searching for something he couldn’t quite name but could feel.
“Who was the last person to handle his feeding tube?” he asked, his tone measured, but beneath it, something dangerous was beginning to rise.
A nurse hesitated, glancing toward another colleague, then back at Richard, clearly unsure whether to speak or remain silent.
“We rotate shifts,” she said finally, her voice careful, “but the last recorded check was about forty minutes ago.”
“By who?”
The pause stretched longer this time.
“By Nurse Elena.”
The name hung in the air, and for a brief moment, nothing happened, as if the room itself was holding its breath.
Then the younger doctor frowned slightly.
“Elena signed out early today,” he said slowly, as if piecing it together in real time.
“She said she wasn’t feeling well.”
Richard’s expression darkened, not dramatically, but enough to shift the atmosphere again into something sharper, more focused, more controlled.
“Where is she now?”
No one answered immediately, because no one knew.
And that was the problem.
Leo shifted his weight, his mind turning over everything he had seen since walking into the hospital, every detail, every movement, every face.
He remembered something.
Small.
Almost nothing.
But his grandfather’s voice returned again, louder this time, clearer, as if guiding him through the noise.
Look closely.
Leo took a step forward.
“I saw her,” he said quietly.
Several heads turned toward him again, surprise flickering across faces that had already dismissed him once before.
Richard looked at him directly, this time without hesitation.
“Where?”
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