When I left, I sat in my truck at the end of the street, staring at the house, and I missed my wife deeply because she had always known what to do when something felt wrong. Instead of sitting there longer, I called my doctor and explained everything calmly, like describing a structural flaw.
He listened and then said, “You need her tested today, blood and urine, and tell them you suspect a sedative.”
The word landed heavily, and I drove back to the house, rehearsing a calm expression so I could take Avery without raising suspicion.
I told Melissa I wanted to take Avery out for lunch as a birthday tradition, and after a brief hesitation, she agreed, telling me to be back by three. In the car, Avery asked if we were going to the pancake place, and I told her we would make a quick stop first, and she guessed immediately that it was a doctor.
At urgent care, I told the receptionist quietly that I suspected Avery had been given something without her knowledge, and we were taken back quickly. The doctor spoke kindly to Avery and asked about her sleep, and Avery said she slept a lot but still felt tired.