Sleepless nights blurred into weary mornings, each one bringing new waves of torment. Until one morning, she couldn’t even rise from bed. She crumpled to the floor, doubled over, clutching her side. Terror finally broke through her stubborn denial. Something was terribly wrong.
Driven by desperation, Jennifer dragged herself to the emergency room. Every step was agony, yet she pressed forward. At the hospital, a blur of scans, tests, and urgent voices surrounded her. The verdict came swiftly: appendicitis. Immediate surgery was the only option.
Dr. Harris, the attending surgeon, met her with a warm smile and calm confidence. “You’ll be back on your feet in no time,” he assured her. His tone should have eased her, yet unease lingered in her chest—not fear of the surgery itself, but something harder to define.
A strange curiosity gripped her. What really happened when a patient lay unconscious, beyond awareness? What did doctors say when no one could hear them?
The thought was absurd, and yet it refused to let go. Against all reason, Jennifer slipped her phone into the pocket of her gown. Just before she was wheeled into surgery, she pressed record. It was reckless, perhaps even unlawful, but something primal drove her to do it. She had to know.
Hours later, she surfaced in recovery—groggy, aching, her mind fogged by anesthesia. A nurse reassured her the procedure had gone smoothly. Still, a vague sense of shame rose in her chest. Had she really recorded her own surgery?
But embarrassment soon gave way to fear. Where was her phone?
Her pulse spiked as she searched frantically. The bedside table was bare. Her gown yielded nothing. The phone was gone.
Jennifer remembered clearly tucking it away before surgery. Now it had vanished. Cold sweat gathered at her brow. Had someone found it? Taken it?
Her thoughts spiraled. Maybe a nurse had discovered it while changing her gown. Maybe the surgeons had seen the recording and alerted security. What if they had already listened? What if they knew?
Every glance, every whisper from the staff seemed charged with suspicion. Nurses leaned close to each other, murmuring behind clipboards. Doctors’ eyes flicked toward her, quick and assessing, before sliding away.