Bold and final.
Paternity Probability: 0%. The alleged father is excluded as the biological father of the fetus.
I froze.
My eyes widened slightly.
My breath stopped.
“No...” I whispered.
I read it again.
And again.
The words didn’t change. They didn’t rearrange themselves.
They didn’t soften or offer a different meaning.
They stayed exactly where they were.
Impossible.
I wiped at my eyes with the heel of my hand, once... twice... as if somehow the blur would distort the truth enough to make it wrong.
But it didn’t.
“No... this isn’t real,” The words tore out of me, raw and broken.
There had to be a mistake.
There had to be.
A switched sample. A mislabeled vial. A clerical error.
Anything.
Anything but this.
I didn’t think.
I bolted out of the lounge, clutching the report in my hand like it was the only proof I had left.
The corridor blurred as I moved through it, my steps uneven, too fast, too desperate.
My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out everything else.
I pushed through the hospital hallways, ignoring the stares, ignoring the whispers, ignoring everything except the need to fix this.
The doctor.
I needed the doctor.
I burst into his office without knocking.
He was already inside.
Mid-sentence.
