“I asked an old friend a few questions.”
“You asked Marcy how much weight Emma had gained.”
Patricia’s cheeks reddened.
“I was concerned.”
“You asked about her blood pressure.”
“She’s pregnant. Blood pressure matters.”
“You asked whether she passed her glucose screening.”
“That matters too.”
“You even asked how much the baby weighed during the last ultrasound.”
Patricia stopped answering.
Ryan pointed toward the screenshots.
“And Marcy told you everything.”
Emma stared at her mother-in-law.
“How long?”
Patricia stayed silent.
Emma’s voice rose.
“How long have you been asking about my appointments?”
“I wasn’t reading your records.”
Ryan answered for her.
“Since January.”
Emma looked toward him.
It was May.
Five months.
She slowly lowered herself into a chair.
I sat beside her.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
She shifted slightly away.
Not specifically from me.
From everyone.
And that small movement broke my heart.
For months, Emma had already felt as though pregnancy had turned her body into public property.
Strangers touched her stomach without asking.
Coworkers commented on whether she looked big or small.
Cashiers asked how far along she was.
People told her she looked tired.
People told her she looked wonderful.
Everybody seemed to believe pregnancy gave them permission to discuss her body.
And now she had discovered that her own mother-in-law had been secretly receiving private information from her doctor’s office.
Patricia finally spoke.
“I paid thousands of dollars toward your medical care.”
Emma slowly looked up.
There it was.
Not an apology.
A receipt.
Ryan’s expression changed instantly.
“Say that again.”
Patricia realized too late how terrible it sounded.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“You paid toward her appointments, so you decided that gave you access to her medical information?”
“No.”
“Then why bring up the money?”
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