Doctors came and went. Questions followed. Imaging. Low conversations just out of earshot.
During the long stretches of waiting, Aria watched Serafina scroll through her phone, making notes, checking numbers.
"You should eat something," Aria said.
Serafina looked up. "I'm fine."
"You drove three hours. You've been here since six. When did you last?—"
"Aria."
"I'm serious."
"So am I. Stop managing me from the hospital bed."
Aria almost smiled. "Force of habit."
"Yeah." Serafina's expression softened, just slightly. "I know."
Eventually, a man in blue scrubs pulled up a stool.
"Dr. Williams," he said. He was broad-shouldered and solid, with the worn look of someone who'd seen too many bad outcomes to soften the truth. His eyes were tired but direct.
Serafina recognized that look immediately—from her own work.
"The goitre's grown significantly," he said. "This isn't something you want to wait on much longer. If it enlarges further, it could compromise her airway."
"Can you operate?" Serafina asked.
He shook his head. "Not here. Not tonight. She needs endocrine surgery. We can stabilize her and monitor her closely, but definitive treatment requires a specialist."
Insurance followed. It always did.
By midmorning, Serafina had been transferred four times, explained the situation six, repeated policy numbers until they blurred together. Every voice on the line sounded sympathetic. None of them said yes.
"It's classified as non-emergent surgery," one representative said.
"She could stop breathing," Serafina said.
"If her airway becomes obstructed, emergency intervention would be covered."
"And before that?"
A pause. Then, carefully rehearsed. "I understand your concern, ma'am, but under the policy?—"
"Don't," Serafina said, heat creeping into her voice. "Do not read me the policy again."
"Ma'am—"
"She's twenty-four and she can't breathe properly," Serafina snapped. "She's losing her voice. What part of that is elective?"
Another pause. "I'm going to have to end this call if you continue using that tone."
"Try," Serafina said.
The line went dead.
She set the phone down carefully, like she was resisting the urge to throw it.
