The Name That Changed Everything
The hospital room was quiet, filled with the familiar scent of antiseptic and warm blankets. In my arms, our newborn slept peacefully, swaddled in pale blue. My husband smiled beside me, our five-year-old proudly holding a balloon near the foot of the bed. From the outside, it looked like a picture-perfect moment—a growing family heading home.
But a single name changed everything.
As the nurse handed me the discharge paperwork, something caught my eye. Under “Emergency Contact,” a name I didn’t recognize: Alana.
“Who’s Alana?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
My husband’s expression shifted. The paper trembled slightly in his hand.
“She’s… from work,” he said. “It’s just protocol. I didn’t think it mattered.”
But it did. Deeply.
“Why isn’t my name there?” I asked.
He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck—a habit I knew all too well.
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