No husband.
No family waiting in the hall.
And one old name still reachable somewhere in the fog.
“How did they find him?”
The nurse answered.
“She gave enough of his last name before she lost consciousness. Social services looked through her records and belongings. There was an old emergency contact entry buried in previous paperwork with his full name.”
James nodded.
“They called me about an hour
ago.”
I stared at him.
“You came immediately?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see her?”
He shook his head.
“She was already gone.”
That sentence flattened everything.
The baby made a tiny sound in the room behind us.
All three of us turned.
The nurse’s face softened.
“She’s doing well.”
I looked at James. He was terrified.
Not of the hospital.
Of me.
That was when I finally understood that whatever he was about to ask had nothing to do with Anna wanting him back.
Anna was dead.
This was about the
baby.
James took one breath.
Then another.
“She has no one.”
I didn’t move.
“Her father’s not coming. Social services reached him. He signed something saying he isn’t seeking custody.”
My mouth went dry.
“Already?”
“He left months ago. Apparently he doesn’t want involvement.”
Anger flashed through me so fast it almost felt clean.
James continued.
“The hospital social worker explained what happens next.”
“What happens?”
“Temporary placement while they search for relatives and determine guardianship.”
He looked at the glass.
“They don’t think there are any relatives.”
I knew
what was coming now.
Still, when he said it, it felt enormous.
“I want us to ask to be considered.”
I stared at him.
“For what?”
He looked at me.
“For her.”
My eyes filled immediately.
“James.”
“I know.”
His voice broke.
“I know how this sounds.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I probably do.”
He reached toward me, then stopped himself.
“I already told the social worker I’m married. That I would never make any decision without you. That this isn’t something I get to promise on my own.”
