Chapter 12: The Iron Infusion
Back at the hospital, the sterile ward was quiet as the evening shift settled in. Marnie sat propped up against the pillows, watching the amber fluid from the IV bag drip steadily down the clear plastic tubing into her vein. The intravenous iron infusion was a strange sensation—a cold, metallic heaviness spreading upward from her arm into her chest, accompanied by a sudden, profound wave of physical exhaustion that felt entirely different from the panic of the morning.
Dr. Vance stepped into the room, checking the chart hanging at the foot of the bed with an approving nod. ""How are you holding up, Marnie? The iron is going to make you feel quite sleepy for the next few hours, but your cellular levels are already beginning to rebalance.""
""I feel like I've been run over by a truck,"" Marnie admitted with a tired, self-deprecating smile, her eyelids drooping slightly. ""But the strange thing is, the gnawing, hollow feeling in my stomach is completely gone. For the first time in weeks, I don't feel like I'm starving for something I can't name.""
""That is the pica compulsion receding,"" Dr. Vance explained, adjusting the flow valve on the IV pump. ""Your body is finally receiving the raw materials it has been screaming for. From now on, you'll be on strict oral supplementation and regular blood panels. No more guessing games with your nutrition.""
Liam pushed the door open just then, carrying a takeout coffee cup and looking remarkably refreshed after his cleaning blitz at home. He walked over to the bed, pressing a tender kiss to Marnie’s forehead before taking her hand.
""The pantry is completely empty,"" Liam reported with a quiet grin. ""Every single bag of weird dust, clay, and mystery powder is sitting in a landfill somewhere across town. Our kitchen is officially boring, safe, and entirely free of geological anomalies.""
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Marnie let out a soft laugh, the tension finally evaporating completely from her shoulders. ""Thank you, honey. I never want to see a bag of powder again as long as I live.""
""Good,"" Liam said, squeezing her hand tightly. ""Because from now on, we stick to real food—ice cream, pickles, and whatever else this little one decides it wants that doesn't come from the bottom of the pantry.""
