Part 2
Dr. Aris did not speak for several seconds.
In those few seconds, the entire Coleman family leaned forward as if the future of their bloodline were glowing on the ultrasound monitor. David’s mother clasped her hands together, already trembling with joy. Megan’s lips curved into a victorious smile. His father, who rarely showed emotion, straightened his back with the solemn pride of a man preparing to welcome an heir.crsaid
Allison lay on the examination bed, one hand resting theatrically over her stomach.
David’s face was bright with expectation.
“Well?” he demanded, unable to wait any longer. “Doctor, say it. My son is healthy, right?”
Dr. Aris slowly lifted the transducer from Allison’s abdomen.
The silence changed.
It became colder.
He wiped the gel away with a clinical calmness that made Allison’s smile falter. Then he turned off the machine.
David blinked. “Why did you turn it off?”
Dr. Aris looked at him. “Mr. Coleman, I need to ask a few questions.”
Megan scoffed. “Questions? Just tell us the baby’s gender.”
“There is no baby.”
The sentence fell into the room like a sheet of ice.
For a moment, no one moved.
David laughed first, a short, sharp sound. “What?”
Dr. Aris repeated, slower this time. “There is no pregnancy.”
Allison’s face drained of color.
David’s mother staggered backward. “That’s impossible.”
Dr. Aris kept his voice steady. “Her uterus is empty. There is no fetus. No heartbeat. No gestational sac. Nothing consistent with a pregnancy at this stage.”
Megan pointed at Allison’s stomach. “Then what is that?”
The doctor looked briefly at Allison, then back at David. “Bloating, perhaps. Hormonal medication may also cause swelling. But she is not pregnant.”
David turned to Allison.
She was staring at the ceiling.
“Allison,” he said.
She did not answer.
“Allison.”
Still nothing.
His voice dropped, shaking with something more dangerous than anger. “Tell me he’s lying.”
Allison’s lower lip trembled. “David, I—”
“Tell me,” he roared.
His mother burst into tears. His father shouted for everyone to calm down. Megan grabbed Allison’s purse from the chair and dumped it onto the floor.
Lipstick, tissues, receipts, a compact mirror, and several folded papers scattered across the tiles.
Megan snatched one of the papers.
Her expression shifted from outrage to disbelief.
“What is this?” she hissed.
David seized it from her.
It was a printed ultrasound image.
A baby curled like a comma in grainy black and white.
At the top, in small letters, was a name.
Not Allison Reed.
Not Allison Coleman.
The name was Catherine Vale.
My name.
And the date was six years ago.
It was the ultrasound photo from my second pregnancy.
The one I had once framed for David’s office.
The one that had disappeared after he moved his things into the guest room months ago.
David stared at it as if it had burned his fingers.
Dr. Aris frowned. “That image is not from this clinic.”
