Chương 6
David photographed the page.
In the guest room, the bed was made. Eleanor’s green silk scarf hung over a chair. A paperback rested on the nightstand beside a glass of water and a bowl containing three clementine peels. She had eaten fruit while Maya sat in the kitchen with ramen.
David opened the closet. Eleanor’s suitcase was gone.
He found Maya’s prescription pain medication inside a drawer beneath folded towels. The bottle still contained nearly every tablet. Her antibiotics, prescribed after the incision first reddened, sat unopened beside it.
David called Maya’s obstetrician from the apartment.
The physician sounded alarmed. “We sent that prescription two days ago after Maya reported increased pain through the portal.”
“Maya’s phone was damaged. Did anyone confirm she received it?”
“Someone responded from her account saying she was improving.”
“Can you send me the message?”
“I can’t discuss the content without her authorization.”
David almost said he was her husband. The words rose automatically.
He stopped.
“I’ll ask her to contact you.”
When he returned to the hospital, Maya was sitting upright for the first time. A tray of broth, toast, and fruit rested across her lap. She had eaten half a piece of toast.
David placed her damaged phone and the unopened medication bottles on the counter.
Maya stared at them.
“I didn’t know she had those,” she said.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t. You weren’t there.”
David sat down.
She looked at the bottles again. “I thought the doctor changed her mind.”
“Someone answered messages from your portal.”
Maya’s face went still. “Your mother knew the password.”
“How?”
“She watched me log in at the hospital.”
“Did you tell Priya?”
“No.”
“You should.”
Maya pushed the tray away. “There. You did it again.”
“What?”
“You decided what I should do.”
David opened his mouth, then closed it.
Maya’s voice shook. “I know I have to tell her. I know. But you keep saying things like they’re easy because you’re not the one who has to sit there while strangers decide if you deserve your baby.”
“They’re evaluating me too.”
“Not the same way.”
He wanted to argue. He had been questioned, blamed, and warned. Yet he knew what Maya meant. No one had asked whether exhaustion made him dangerous. No one had watched him feed Liam and wondered whether a father who needed instruction should be allowed to take his child home.
“You’re right,” he said.
Maya looked almost irritated by the answer.
David placed a folded sheet of paper on the bedside table. “These are the passwords for the lease, bank accounts, insurance, utilities, and Liam’s patient portal. I added your number as the primary contact wherever I could. Some changes need your authorization.”
She did not touch the paper.
“I’m not doing this so you’ll forgive me,” he said.
“Good.”
“I’m doing it because it should have been that way already.”
Maya turned toward the window. “Leave it there.”
Later that afternoon, Claire arrived carrying the two cans of formula in a shopping bag. She stopped in the doorway when she saw Maya.
Claire resembled Eleanor around the eyes, though her expressions moved faster. She wore a sequined black sweater beneath a long coat and had not removed the glitter from the night before. Her gaze landed on the intravenous lines, then the plastic bag containing Maya’s cardigan.
“Oh,” she said.
Maya’s mouth tightened.
Claire set the bag on the floor. “I brought these.”
David took photographs before touching the cans. The pharmacy labels showed Liam’s name and the date David had picked them up.
“Where’s Mom?” he asked.
“At home.”
“Whose home?”
“Hers.”
“Did you photograph the formula before moving it?”
Claire held out her phone. “Yes.”
The images showed the cans inside Eleanor’s canvas grocery bag beside containers of food from David’s refrigerator. One photograph captured a carton of Maya’s preferred oat milk and the prepared postpartum meals labeled with dates.
“Send them to me and keep the originals,” David said.
Claire folded her arms. “You could say thank you.”
“Thank you.”
“It doesn’t sound like it.”
“No.”
Claire’s gaze moved to Maya. “Mom said you wouldn’t eat.”
Maya stared at her.
“She said you were trying to breastfeed but panicking, and that the formula was making it worse.”
“Claire,” David said.
“I’m asking.”
“You’re repeating her.”
“I want to understand.”
Maya pulled the blanket higher across her chest. “She gave me half a bowl of soup yesterday morning.”
Claire blinked.
“She stood over me until I ate it. Then Liam cried, and she said if I really loved him, my body would respond.”
Claire looked down.
“She took the formula after that,” Maya continued. “She said hunger would fix both of us.”
“That sounds—” Claire stopped.
“Say it,” Maya said.
Claire’s face reddened. “It sounds insane.”
“It happened.”
“I didn’t say it didn’t.”
“You were going to.”
“No, I wasn’t.”
Maya gave a faint, exhausted laugh. “You were already halfway there.”
Claire sat in the chair near the door, still wearing her coat. “Mom told us you had postpartum depression.”
“I might.”
Claire looked startled by the answer.
Maya rubbed her thumb against the hospital blanket. “That doesn’t make the refrigerator less empty.”
Nobody spoke.
A cart rolled past in the corridor. Someone dropped a metal tray several rooms away. Liam’s cry sounded faintly through the baby monitor on David’s phone, and he stood automatically before realizing it was a recorded alert from the pediatric unit.
Claire watched him. “Mom wants you to call.”
“I’m not calling.”
“She says she’ll have to notify the board if you don’t return Tuesday.”
“Then she can notify them.”
“David, don’t be stupid. You’re the only one who can run the company after her.”
“I’m not leaving the hospital.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
May you like
“You came here carrying a threat for her.”
Claire’s mouth opened. Then she looked at Maya and lowered her voice. “I came because I found formula with my nephew’s name on it in Mom’s bag, and I haven’t slept.”
