I was still sitting beside Paige when the specialist came into the room.
Kate was on the other side of the bed.
Ryan stood near the window.
None of us had spoken much since the last conversation about Paige's crying.
I kept thinking about what Kate had finally admitted.
Paige had screamed during the night.
Not just whimpered.
Not just fussed.
She had screamed.
And nobody had known why.
The specialist introduced herself and explained that she'd been reviewing Paige's imaging.
She asked Kate and Ryan whether they were ready to discuss the findings.
Kate nodded.
Ryan moved closer.
I stayed beside the chair.
The doctor began with the fracture in Paige's left leg.
She explained that the injury needed proper support and continued pain management.
I watched her face.
She spoke calmly.
But there was no mistaking the seriousness of what she was describing.
Then she turned to the additional images.
"We've confirmed another area of bone injury," she said.
Kate covered her mouth.
I felt my stomach tighten.
Until then, the doctors had described the second finding as concerning.
Something that needed careful review.
Now the specialist was saying there was another injury.
I looked at Paige.
Her little face was peaceful for the moment.
I wondered how many times she'd cried while nobody understood what was hurting.
"Where?" Kate whispered.
The doctor explained that the additional finding involved a rib.
She said the imaging suggested an injury that had begun healing.
I stared at her.
A rib.
I had been thinking about Paige's leg all day.
The swollen thigh.
The bruise.
The way she barely moved one side.
I hadn't imagined there could be something wrong beneath her chest.
"She's six months old," I said.
The words came out before I could stop them.
The doctor nodded.
"I understand."
I looked down.
Of course she understood.
She had been examining Paige.
She knew exactly how young she was.
But I couldn't seem to make my mind accept it.
A broken leg.
An injured rib.
A baby who couldn't even crawl.
Kate began crying.
Ryan asked whether the rib injury could have happened during normal handling.
The specialist explained that ordinary gentle care would not usually account for the findings they were seeing.
She also said the medical team needed to consider Paige's full medical history and all possible explanations.
I listened carefully.
I didn't want to hear only the frightening parts.
I wanted to understand what the doctors actually knew.
The specialist explained that signs of healing could help them understand whether an injury was recent or older.
But she couldn't assign an exact hour or day based on an X-ray alone.
That distinction mattered.
The rib finding appeared to have started healing.
The leg fracture was being treated as a current injury.
The doctor couldn't tell us exactly when either occurred.
Still, the findings raised questions about more than one moment in Paige's life.
I looked toward Kate.
Her hands were pressed together.
She seemed to be staring at the blanket without seeing it.
Ryan was quiet.
I wondered whether either of them remembered a time when Paige had cried unusually hard.
A time before Saturday.
A time when someone had dismissed her pain as ordinary fussiness.
The specialist asked about previous illnesses.
Hospital visits.
Problems with bones.
Family medical history.
She asked whether Paige had ever received treatment for another injury.
Kate answered no.
Ryan shook his head.
The doctor continued asking questions.
I stayed silent because I didn't know those answers.
I had loved Paige since the day she was born.
But loving her didn't mean I knew every detail of her health.
I had to let her parents speak.
The specialist explained that the team was considering medical explanations as part of the evaluation.
I was relieved to hear that.
I didn't want anyone blamed without a careful investigation.
I wanted every reasonable possibility examined.
But the makeup still troubled me.
I couldn't stop thinking about it.
A medical condition might help explain why a bone was fragile.
It wouldn't automatically explain why someone had spread beige cosmetics across bruised skin.
I looked at the diaper bag.
It was still beside the chair.
I wondered whether the investigator had learned anything more about it.
Then I reminded myself that I wasn't responsible for conducting the investigation.
I was responsible for telling the truth.
And for helping Paige however I could.
The specialist finished explaining the medical findings.
Kate asked whether Paige would recover.
The doctor said the team expected to provide treatment and follow-up appropriate for the fractures, while monitoring her progress.
She avoided making promises about a recovery she hadn't yet observed.
I appreciated that.
I was beginning to trust answers that admitted uncertainty.
The specialist stepped closer to Paige.
She checked her position.
She spoke softly to the nurse.
Then she left.
For several moments, nobody moved.
I could hear a faint sound from the hallway.
A door opened somewhere.
Then closed.
Ryan finally sat down.
He looked exhausted.
Kate continued staring at Paige.
I wanted to ask what they were thinking.
But I was afraid of another argument.
So I stayed quiet.
After a while, Kate spoke.
"She cried like that last week too."
I turned toward her.
"What?"
Kate wiped her cheeks.
"Paige had a really bad night last week."
I felt my chest tighten.
"Did she have trouble moving?"
"I don't know."
My sister looked down.
"She just wouldn't settle."
I remembered the doctor's explanation about the healing rib injury.
I didn't know whether that night had anything to do with it.
The specialist had warned us against assigning exact dates.
But I understood why the information mattered.
"Did you tell the doctor?"
Kate shook her head.
"Not yet."
I looked at her.
"You should."
She nodded.
"I will."
Ryan rubbed his forehead.
"She had bad nights before that."
I turned toward him.
"What do you mean?"
"She's a baby, Ally. Babies have bad nights."
I felt frustration rising.
I tried to control it.
"I know they do."
I paused.
"But the doctors are asking about unusual crying because she's injured."
Ryan looked away.
I didn't want to fight.
I wanted them to remember.
Every small detail might help explain what Paige had endured.
I looked at Kate again.
"Was last week different?"
She took a moment before answering.
"She seemed harder to comfort."
I nodded.
"Then tell them exactly that."
Kate wiped her face.
"I will."
I hoped she meant it.
A nurse came into the room to check Paige.
The conversation stopped.
The nurse looked at the chart and examined the baby's position.
I asked whether Paige could take a bottle yet.
The nurse explained that feeding would follow the medical team's instructions.
I nodded.
I was glad someone was keeping track of all the ordinary needs I had been too frightened to think about clearly.
Food.
Rest.
Pain relief.
Clean clothes.
A safe position.
Those things still mattered.
Even while doctors discussed fractures and investigators asked questions.
The nurse finished her work.
Then she left us alone.
I looked at the little green sleeper among Paige's belongings.
It seemed strange that I kept noticing it.
But it was the last outfit she'd worn before the hospital.
The clothing I'd opened when I found the bruise.
I could still picture the zipper.
The way I'd eased the fabric away from her legs.
The moment I noticed her left thigh looked swollen.
That was when the day had changed.
Now I was learning that Paige might have experienced pain long before I touched that zipper.
I looked at my sister.
"Kate, when she cried last week, did you think it was teething then too?"
She shook her head.
"I thought she was tired."
I nodded slowly.
"What about Ryan?"
He looked up.
"What about me?"
"Did you notice anything unusual?"
He stared at me.
"She cried."
I waited.
He didn't add anything.
I felt the same helpless frustration again.
I wanted details.
Not because I was trying to trap anyone.
Because Paige couldn't give us those details herself.
Someone had to remember.
Kate leaned toward Paige.
She touched her daughter's hand.
"I'm sorry, baby."
Her voice broke.
I looked away.
I didn't know whether she was apologizing for missing the injury or for something else.
I couldn't assume.
I only knew that the words made my chest ache.
A little later, the investigator returned.
She asked whether she could speak with Kate and Ryan again.
They agreed.
Before leaving, Kate looked at me.
"Will you stay with her?"
"Yes."
There was no hesitation in my answer.
I would have stayed all night if the hospital allowed it.
Kate and Ryan followed the investigator.
The room became quiet.
I moved my chair closer to Paige.
Her breathing was soft.
I watched her small chest rise and fall.
I thought about the rib injury.
The idea that breathing itself might have been uncomfortable at some point made me feel sick.
I didn't know whether that was what she'd experienced.
The doctor hadn't said so.
But I couldn't stop imagining what it must be like for a baby to hurt without understanding why.
I placed my hand beside hers.
I didn't touch her chest.
I didn't move her legs.
I simply stayed close.
For the first time that day, I let myself cry without trying to hide it.
Not loudly.
I didn't want to disturb her.
The tears came quietly.
I wiped them away with my sleeve.
I thought about all the times I'd heard adults say a baby was being difficult.
All the times crying was treated as something to stop.
Something inconvenient.
Something exhausting.
I had done a little of that myself.
I had warmed the bottle.
I had walked around the living room.
I had tried to settle Paige.
I hadn't understood what she was telling me.
The difference was that I'd kept looking when the ordinary explanations failed.
I wished someone had done that sooner.
I wished Paige hadn't needed to scream before anyone realized she was hurt.
The nurse returned and found me sitting beside the bed.
She asked whether I needed anything.
I shook my head.
Then I changed my mind.
"Could I have some water?"
She brought me a cup.
I held it with both hands.
My fingers were cold.
I drank slowly.
The nurse checked Paige again.
She explained that the doctors were continuing to review her injuries and that the next steps would depend on her medical progress and safety arrangements.
I nodded.
I knew we were nowhere near finished.
But the day had taught me something.
The truth wasn't arriving all at once.
It was coming in pieces.
A swollen leg.
A bruise beneath makeup.
A fracture.
Another injury.
A restless night.
A difficult night the week before.
None of those pieces told me exactly what had happened.
Not yet.
But they were enough to show that Paige's pain couldn't be explained by one ordinary morning of teething.
I looked at her.
She was still resting.
Her hand lay open beside the blanket.
I gently placed one finger against her palm.
Her fingers moved.
That tiny response meant more to me than I could explain.
I leaned closer.
"I'm here, sweetheart."
I didn't promise that everything would be easy.
I didn't know what would happen next.
I only knew I would keep coming back to her bedside.
And I would keep telling the truth, even if it made the people I loved uncomfortable.
Click here to continue reading: PART 14: Kate Finally Described the Earlier Night When Paige Wouldn’t Stop Crying, and One Question About Ryan Changed the Conversation
My Sister Left Her Six-Month-Old Daughter With Me That Saturday, and One Strange Thing She Said Kept Coming Back to Me
Part 13 of 20
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