Chapter 6: Confirmation

No, first I need to confirm if the prenatal check-up slip and discharge summary are real.

Maybe it was an insurance error. Maybe she was helping a friend. I grasped for any alternative, refusing to believe the obvious.

Although it’s unlikely Natalie would fake two hospital documents for no reason, what if?

It was a long shot, but I clung to it like a lifeline. I had to be sure before jumping to conclusions—my whole marriage hung on it.

I still held onto a sliver of hope.

I stood up, documents in hand, the room spinning a little. Maybe there was still an innocent explanation, some thread I hadn’t seen yet.

So I looked up the contact information for the St. Mary’s Women’s Hospital and called.

I sat at the kitchen table, tapping the hospital’s main number into my phone, my heart rattling in my chest. The line rang a few times, the hold music a distant, tinny tune. I drummed my fingers on the table, eyes darting between the documents and the digital clock on the stove.

They confirmed that Natalie was indeed discharged from their hospital a week ago. It was for an abortion. The fetus was already three months old at the time.

The nurse’s voice was matter-of-fact, clinical. “Yes, Natalie Harmon. Discharged last Tuesday. D&C, three-month gestation.” I barely heard the words over the roar in my ears. Three months. Not just a scare. Not just a mistake. My world contracted, vision tunneling, the kitchen fading around me.

My mind went blank. I don’t even remember how I hung up.

My phone slid from my hand, hitting the table with a dull thud. I stared at the countertop, trying to process, my breath ragged and shallow. The house was so quiet I could hear the fridge humming and the faint creak of the neighbor’s dog barking outside.