Part 6
Part 6
Julian followed Dr. Reynolds into another consultation room.
The doctor closed the door softly.
"We found severe iron deficiency."
"Malnutrition."
"Chronic dehydration."
Julian frowned.
"That doesn't make sense."
"Vivian always took care of herself."
Dr. Reynolds quietly slid several lab results across the desk.
"These numbers suggest someone who has skipped meals for months."
Julian stared blankly.
"No."
The doctor nodded.
"I'm afraid so."
"She wasn't simply working too hard."
"She wasn't eating enough."
A knock interrupted them.
"Nurse?"
A young nurse stepped inside carrying a worn canvas backpack.
"This belongs to Ms. Bennett."
"We found it beside the stove."
"Mr. Cross may want to take it."
Julian accepted the faded blue bag.
The zipper barely worked.
Inside were ordinary things.
A library card.
An umbrella held together with tape.
A bottle of generic painkillers.
Receipts from discount grocery stores.
Then he found a small notebook.
The cover read:
Monthly Budget.
He opened it.
Every page was filled with careful handwriting.
Rent.
Electricity.
School shoes.
Bus fare.
Medicine.
Lunch account.
Soccer registration.
Each expense had been calculated down to the last dollar.
At the bottom of every page was the same line.
Food for me — if anything remains.
Julian stopped breathing.
Some months the amount beside it was twenty dollars.
Some months ten.
Several months...
Zero.
Tucked inside the notebook was another folded paper.
Not a bill.
Not a receipt.
A letter.
Unfinished.
It wasn't addressed to him.
It was addressed to Oliver.
If you're reading this, sweetheart, Mommy is probably in the hospital again because my headaches finally won.
Julian's hands began shaking.
Please don't be scared.
None of this is your fault.
You have been the best part of every day I've ever lived.
His vision blurred.
Daddy loves you.
Even when he doesn't know how to show it.
Julian covered his mouth.
She had never poisoned Oliver against him.
Never.
Even after everything.
The letter continued.
If he comes...
Please give him another chance.
He loved us once.
I still believe that part of him exists somewhere.
Julian broke.
For the first time since culinary school...
For the first time since his own father's funeral...
He cried without trying to stop.
A soft voice came from the doorway.
"Daddy?"
Oliver had woken after falling asleep in the waiting room.
"What are you reading?"
Julian knelt beside him.
"Something Mommy wrote."
"Is she mad at you?"
Julian couldn't answer.
Oliver looked toward the ICU doors.
"I don't think she is."
"Why?"
"Because..."
The little boy smiled sadly.
"Every night she prayed."
Julian blinked.
"Prayed?"
Oliver nodded.
"I heard her."
"What did she pray for?"
Oliver repeated the words exactly as he remembered them.
"Please don't let Oliver grow up believing his father didn't want him."
Julian felt something inside him shatter completely.
All these years...
He had believed Vivian hated him.
Instead...
She had spent those same years protecting the image of a father who hadn't earned it.
At that very moment, alarms suddenly erupted from inside the intensive care unit.
Nurses rushed past them.
A doctor shouted, "ICU Bed Four!"
Julian's blood ran cold.
Bed Four.
Vivian's room.
He grabbed Oliver's hand as the crash cart disappeared through the doors.
Seconds later, Dr. Reynolds looked up from inside the room, his expression turning grave.
"Her brain pressure is rising again," he called to the team.
"If we can't stabilize her in the next few minutes..."
He didn't finish the sentence.
May you like
He didn't need to.
Julian pulled Oliver close, both of them staring helplessly through the ICU window as the monitor beside Vivian's bed let out one long, terrifying, unbroken tone.
