Those words shattered what was left of my heart.
The following morning, Robert found me unconscious on the kitchen floor.
Our neighbor heard the commotion and called an ambulance.
When I opened my eyes, I was in the hospital.
Standing beside my bed was a doctor who looked to be around forty-five.
His name was Dr. Daniel Miller.
He stared at me for an unusually long time.
Then he asked:
“Mrs. Margaret, may I ask what your maiden name was?”
“Wilson,” I answered.
The doctor’s expression suddenly changed. The continuation read in the comments 👇👇‼️‼️
“And did you give birth at St. Mary’s Hospital in 1970?”
My heart began racing.
“Yes… But why are you asking?”
He hesitated.
“While reviewing your medical history, we also examined some older records. There’s a discrepancy that needs to be investigated.”
My hands began trembling.
“What kind of discrepancy?”
The doctor glanced toward the door.
