The moment I saw the gold bracelet on Nurse Stephanie’s wrist, my world shifted. My breath caught. My heart skipped. That delicate chain, with its tiny heart charm, wasn’t just any piece of jewelry—it was mine. The one I’d thought I’d lost forever. And now, there it was, worn by the nurse assigned to care for me at the hospital.
A month earlier, life was simple and good. I’d been married to Toby for three years. We weren’t wealthy, but we were happy in our cozy apartment, saving for the future we dreamed about—a house, a family, a little backyard. I remember joking about it. “For a dog?” he teased. “For a baby,” I replied. He kissed my forehead and promised, “We’ll get there.”
That Friday, Toby left for a short work trip. I decided to tidy up the apartment while he was gone. While reaching for the top shelf of our hallway closet, the ladder slipped. In a flash, I was on the floor, pain shooting through my leg. The X-rays confirmed a serious fracture—I’d need to stay at the hospital for monitoring.
I called Toby right away. He sounded concerned and said he’d return home early. “No arguments,” he insisted.
Then, Nurse Stephanie walked in.
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