“Ten minutes ago. Maybe fifteen.” My hands were shaking so badly I tucked them under my arms. “I was changing him. He started crying uncontrollably. I thought maybe it was the diaper or gas or—I don’t know. Then I saw the bruise.”
He nodded once and leaned over Noah, pressing with slow, precise fingers around the bruised area.
Noah screamed again, louder this time, and his whole body stiffened.
Dr. Patel’s brow furrowed.
“Has anyone else been caring for him recently?”
“Only his parents,” I said automatically.
Even as the words came out, I felt something unpleasant coil in my chest. Because “only his parents” sounds reassuring only until it doesn’t.
Dr. Patel glanced at the nurse. “We’re going to do an ultrasound right away.”
My mouth went dry. “Is he going to be okay?”
“We need to check something first,” he said gently, which was the kind of answer that means a doctor refuses to lie because he respects the question too much.
