A homeless pregnant woman stood right outside the doors of the maternity ward. No one knew who she was or where shed come from until Dr. James Wilson locked eyes with herand everything changed.
I was on duty that night when she turned up. Well, no one actually brought hershe just appeared at the entrance. Pregnant, pale, with eyes full of pain and a silent plea for help.
She sat on a bench in the corridor, cradling her belly, barely moving. No ID, no belongings, not even a name we could register her under.
The nurses whispered, “What do we do with her? Where do we send her?” The head midwife just waved a handlike there wasnt time to deal with it.
I was about to step forward when Dr. Wilson walked in. He stopped dead at the sight of her. His expression darkened, empty, as if he wasnt seeing a patient but a ghost from his past.
“Who is this woman?” he asked quietly, but no one answered.
He knelt in front of her, looking straight into her eyes. I watched his face shiftfirst confusion, then recognition.
“Get her a room. Now,” he said sharply, without even glancing at us.
I noticed his gaze linger on the worn silver necklace around her throat. Then, under his breath, he muttered, “Good Lord could it really be her?”
He stood, wordless, and guided her to an empty room. The door shut behind them.
We exchanged glancesId never seen him like this. Usually so detached, controlled, but now urgency in his movements, worry in his eyes.
Minutes later, I brought in an IV drip. She sat on the bed while he spoke softly, almost whispering. I only caught fragments: “then I was too late forgive me”
She turned away, clutching the necklace in her fist.
As I hooked up the drip, the tension in the room was thick. She stayed silent, but there was something familiar in her eyesI couldnt place it.
“You know things will be different now,” he said quietly, his tone not clinical but deeply personal.
She nodded without looking up.
“Doctor,” I couldnt help asking, “who is she?”
He studied me, weighing his words. Then he sighed. “Shes my sister.”
I nearly dropped the IV. “But you said you had no family”
“I had to,” he cut in. “We lost touch over a decade ago. She vanished.”
I didnt press further. But walking out, I knewtheir story was far more tangled than a long-lost relative coming home.
