the letter. Beside the charger was a small appointment card from St. Vincent Medical Center, tucked beneath a packet of discharge instructions.
On the back, in Sophie’s handwriting, were three words.
Ask about embryo.
I stared at them.
Embryo?
My pulse began to pound.
I checked the date on the card.
It was from the same week as the letter.
I didn’t know what it meant. Maybe it was connected to fertility preservation. Maybe it was some medical term I didn’t understand. Maybe Sophie had written it during a conversation with a specialist and forgotten.
But then I noticed another folded paper at the bottom of the drawer.
This one wasn’t addressed to me.
It was a printed message from a fertility clinic.
Dear Mrs. Miller,
We have attempted to reach you regarding the status of your stored specimen and pending consent forms. Please contact our office as soon as
