Chapter 4 - Room 412
The elevator ride up to the fourth floor felt like ascending into an abyss.
The doors dinged open, revealing a wide, quiet hallway lit by soft, muted fluorescent tubes. The walls were painted with cheerful pastel murals of ocean animals, but the profound, heavy silence of the floor betrayed the reality of what happened behind those closed doors.
Ryan walked down the long corridor, his wet dress shoes clicking against the linoleum floorboards.
Near the end of the hall, past the nurses' station, the door to Room 412 was propped halfway open.
Ryan stopped near the door frame, keeping himself hidden in the shadows of the hallway. He looked through the narrow glass window beside the frame.
The room was small. In the center sat a single pediatric examination bed surrounded by monitoring equipment, IV poles, and plastic charts.
Sitting on the examination table was the little boy with Ryan’s eyes. His red raincoat was removed, revealing a faded yellow t-shirt that hung loosely over his small frame. His arm was extended, resting on a white cushion, while a pediatric nurse carefully applied a tourniquet to his upper arm to draw blood.
The boy didn't cry. He didn't even flinch. He simply sat perfectly still, staring at the wall with a stoic, quiet endurance that no three-year-old child should ever possess.
Grace stood beside the table, holding both of the little girls by their hands. Her coat was off, draped over a chair, revealing a plain grey sweater that was worn at the elbows. Her face was drawn, dark shadows etched beneath her eyes, her lips moving in a quiet, reassuring whisper as she leaned down to kiss the top of the boy’s head.
"You're doing so brave, Leo," Grace whispered softly. "Just two more small vials today, okay? Then we can get some juice."
Leo nodded silently, his gray-blue eyes shifting toward the window.
For a fraction of a second, his gaze locked directly onto Ryan standing in the dark hallway outside.
Ryan pulled back behind the wall, pressing his back against the cold drywall of the corridor. His lungs felt tight, his stomach churning with an overwhelming wave of nausea.
"He doesn't cry anymore," a calm, clinical voice spoke from beside him.
Ryan jumped slightly.
Standing beside him was a tall, silver-haired man in a white lab coat, a stethoscope draped over his shoulders, holding a thick medical file under his arm.
"Are you the father?" the doctor asked plainly, his brown eyes scanning Ryan’s face with intense scrutiny.
"I... I don't know," Ryan choked out, the honesty tearing at his throat. "I didn't know they existed until twenty minutes ago."
May you like
The doctor’s eyebrows raised slightly, a flick of sharp judgment crossing his calm face before he neutralizes his expression.
"I'm Dr. Mercer," the physician said, stepping toward a private consultation room across the hall and gesturing for Ryan to follow. "If you're Ryan Vance, you need to sit down."
