"Why are you helping me?"
He hesitated.
"Because Nigel asked me to review your records before your surgery. I noticed things that didn't make sense."
"And you didn't tell him?"
"I did. He told me he wanted to investigate privately."
My chest tightened.
"How long ago?"
"Six months."
I looked away.
Six months.
For six months, my husband had known there might be another explanation for my blindness.
He had kissed me goodnight.
Helped our children with homework.
Held my hand while describing the stars.
And never said a word.
Dr. Harris continued.
"When I learned about the additional injury, I requested the archived records directly. I only received the original images yesterday."
"Does Nigel know you found them?"
"He knows I've been looking."
I took a slow breath.
"Then I want copies of everything."
He nodded.
"You'll have them."
***
The next morning, I met Evelyn Ward.
She was seventy-three, with silver hair and hands that trembled slightly when she held her teacup.
