“Call you with what phone?”
His eyes closed.
I continued.
“The hospital tried the number you gave as your emergency contact.
It went to voicemail.
I emailed you from a hospital computer.
I messaged every account I knew.
Your mother had told me not to ruin your trip with hysterical messages, remember?”
Evan looked toward Patricia.
Her face had lost its color beneath the sunburn.
“I turned his phone off during the ceremony,” she said quickly.
“That’s normal.”
“For five days?” I asked.
“We were busy.”
Evan stared at her.
“You had my phone?”
“Only sometimes.”
“My voicemail password?”
“You asked me to organize things.”
“Did you see Maya’s messages?”
Patricia did not answer.
That silence changed the room.
Evan stood.
“Did you see them?”
“I saw some nonsense from unfamiliar hospital numbers.”
His face went blank.
“What?”
“She was always creating emergencies.
I assumed—”
“You saw calls from a hospital?”
Patricia stepped toward him.
“Evan, you were finally relaxing.
The wedding was important.
You had been under enormous stress because of her pregnancy.”
I watched him understand what she had just admitted.
Not all at once.
Piece by piece.
His mother had not simply underestimated Noah’s condition.
She had seen attempts to reach him afterward.
And she had made another decision for him.
“Give me the card,” he said.
I did not move.
“The police already have a copy.”
Patricia’s head snapped toward me.
“The police?”
“Yes.”
Her voice rose.
“You called the police on your own family?”
“No.
The hospital social worker contacted them after I explained why I had been unable to call emergency services immediately.”
Patricia’s composure finally cracked.
“This is insane.”
I almost laughed.
Five days ago, insane was the word she had wrapped around me while taking away every way I had to ask for help.
Now the word had come home to her.
Evan picked up the memory card.
