“Heart rate is regular. All is well, it seems.”
Zayne pulls the stethoscope away from your daughter’s chest, before jolting down a few notes on his clipboard. Your daughter giggles as you put her cardigan back on and button it up. Zayne finishes writing up his report, before swiveling back to you and your daughter, holding out a colorful jar.
“Well done, you’ve behaved very well for the checkup. Would you like a piece of candy?”
You watched as your daughter beamed, looking back at you for confirmation. You nod, so she reaches out her little hand…only to be blocked.
“Woah, sweetie. Don’t want you eating too much processed sugar.” Caleb cuts in, plucking the shiny candy out of his daughter’s hands.
“Hey!” Your daughter cries out in outrage, jumping for her prize, but her much taller father holds it out of reach.
“No, sweet girl, you don’t know what chemicals are in this. Red-40, preservatives, mineral oil…”
“Nooooooo…”
“Yeeeeeees…”
You sigh, and apologise for your husbands antics to Zayne, who’s staring straight ahead, unmoving. He sits at his desk like a statue, watching Caleb effortlessly pick up his daughter, ruffle her hair, kiss her cheek. As Caleb, Caleb, leans down to kiss your cheek, intertwining his left hand with yours, the glint of his wedding ring, matching with yours (obviously) gleams under the cold hospital lights, almost mocking Zayne. You kiss him back tenderly. Zayne looks down at his own empty hands.
Why not me?
“Um, Zayne, are you alright?”
He snaps out of his daze at your voice. Zayne clears his throat, and adjusts his white lab coat.
“Of course.” Suddenly, the doctor is back. “Make sure she spends plenty of time outside in fresh air and keeps up the good exercise. I’ll be expecting another appointment next month.”
You smile at him, relieved. “Take care, okay? Don’t overwork yourself.”
Zayne pushes up his glasses, and nods, wordlessly.
Just as you lead the way out of the pediatric’s room, Caleb stops, your daughter still nestled in his arms. He looks over his shoulder, and flashes Zayne a smug, knowing grin.
“Bye, doc. See you next month. Looking forwards to it.”
The door closes.
…
Unwittingly, Zayne brushes a tear from his eye.
