That night, I waited for Daniel to fall asleep. When his breathing finally settled, I slipped out of bed, took my laptop to the kitchen, and sat at the table in the dark.

My hands shook as I plugged in the flash drive.

One file. A long name made of numbers.

I clicked it.

The timestamp in the corner hit me first: the day Grace died.

Dr. Patel walked in holding a syringe and a vial.

The first angle was the ICU hallway.

There I was on screen, pacing, crying, begging. Kara’s arm was out, blocking me from the door. I watched myself reach for the handle and get stopped.

Then the video switched to inside Grace’s room.

Grace was awake. Her cheeks were pale, her eyes glassy, her red allergy band bright against her wrist.

Nurse Hannah stood beside the bed and adjusted the IV. She kept looking at the door like she was waiting for someone to back her up.

Dr. Patel waved her off like she was in his way.

Dr. Patel walked in holding a syringe and a vial.

Hannah read the label and went still.

She looked down at the chart, then pointed to the allergy line. Then to Grace’s wrist. Then back to the vial.

No. Not right.

Dr. Patel waved her off like she was in his way.

Hannah stepped between his hand and the IV port, palms up, pleading.

The screen went black.

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