Chapter 1: The Evidence

Packing my wife’s suitcase for her two-week business trip, I stumbled upon a prenatal check-up slip and a crumpled hospital discharge summary.

The weight of those two documents pressed heavy in my hands. The blue-and-white hospital paper was creased, soft at the edges, and somehow I could almost catch that sharp, sterile hospital scent clinging to the discharge summary. There was even a faint trace of Natalie’s perfume, like it had soaked into the fibers when she stuffed it in her blouse pocket. Our bedroom, always scented with the clean citrus of her fabric softener, suddenly felt cold and clinical.

Both documents clearly stated that my wife had been hospitalized for seven days due to a miscarriage.

Reading the doctor’s printed signature, the little hospital barcode, and the blunt words “missed abortion, D&C procedure”—it was like a sledgehammer to my chest. The hospital logo—St. Mary’s Women’s Hospital, just a quick drive from our house—stared up at me. I thought about all those times we’d driven past it, never realizing what was happening right under my nose.

But damn it, I always used protection.

I’d been careful. Obsessively careful. My face flushed hot with confusion and anger, a knot of disbelief twisting in my stomach. I gripped the documents tighter, searching for any explanation that could make this make sense.