Tucked between the flowers was a folded card. Elise opened it after her shift. In neat, looping handwriting, it read: For the friend who listens unconditionally. The simplicity of the sentence made her chest tighten.
She placed the card inside her locker, next to her ID badge. It wasn’t the first time a patient had trusted her with more than their medical story—but this felt different. Olivia wasn’t just confiding. She was confessing, in slow motion.
It was a gray Tuesday when a man appeared at the front desk asking for information on Olivia Harper. Elise noticed him immediately. He had a nervous energy beneath polite manners. He handed over a small envelope and said he couldn’t stay long. The return name on the envelope only read, “A”.
The receptionist called Elise because she knew Elise knew Olivia. “She’s not scheduled today,” Elise told him, but curiosity tugged at her. The man looked harmless. He was young, maybe in his early twenties, and his clothes were simple but clean. “Could you give this to her when she’s in?” he asked softly.
Later that afternoon, when Olivia stopped by with the baby, Elise handed her the envelope. She expected mild curiosity, maybe a smile from the girl. Instead, Olivia’s face drained of color. Her hands trembled as she read the single letter on the card: A.
“Is something wrong?” Elise asked. Olivia shook her head quickly. “No, it’s nothing,” she said, forcing a laugh that cracked at the edges. “Please, don’t mention this to anyone. Not my mom, nor Daniel, if they come with me. Promise me.”
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