Chapter 8: The Neurology Ward’s Quiet Hum
Two weeks after the incident, Liam returned to the county hospital, this time navigating the winding corridors of the third-floor neurology wing with a familiarity born of routine. The atmosphere here was vastly different from the chaotic psychiatric emergency ward where Clara had first been admitted. The hallways were carpeted in muted blues, smelling faintly of antiseptic and fresh coffee. Dr. Vance met him outside Room 312, holding a tablet displaying updated neurological scans and behavioral logs.
""Good afternoon, Mr. Hayes,"" Dr. Vance greeted him, stepping aside to let Liam look through the glass door.
Inside, Clara sat upright at a small wooden desk, calmly reading a paperback novel. Her red hair was neatly tied back, and she wore a soft, navy blue sweater provided by her family. The vacant, terrifying stare that had defined her expression on the day of the incident was gone, replaced by an expression of quiet, somber introspection. She turned a page of her book with a slow, deliberate movement, entirely unaware that Liam was watching her.
""She’s making remarkable progress,"" Dr. Vance said, tapping the screen of his tablet. ""The aggressive course of intravenous immunoglobulin therapy has successfully halted the autoimmune attack on her central nervous system. The inflammation in her temporal lobes has decreased significantly, and the seizure activity has ceased entirely.""
Liam exhaled a long breath he felt like he had been holding for weeks. ""Does she... does she remember what happened?""
""That is the most difficult part, Mr. Hayes,"" Dr. Vance warned gently, his expression sobering. ""As her cognitive faculties have returned, so has her memory. She is experiencing full recall of the weeks leading up to the incident, including the event itself. The psychological burden of realizing what she attempted to do... it’s profound. She is currently dealing with severe clinical depression and acute stress disorder.""
Liam clutched the strap of his leather bag tightly. ""Can I go in?""
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""Yes, but take it slow,"" Dr. Vance advised. ""She has been asking for you every day, but she is carrying an immense amount of guilt. She needs your compassion, but she also needs clear boundaries for the safety of the children.""
Liam pushed the heavy door open, the hinges clicking softly behind him. Clara looked up immediately, her green eyes locking onto his. For a second, the terror of that afternoon flashed behind Liam's eyelids, but looking at her now, he saw only his wife—broken, healing, and drowning in remorse. Clara stood up slowly from the chair, her hands trembling as she reached out toward him, hesitating as if afraid he might vanish or strike her down.
