Chapter 8 - The Anomaly
The heavy silence in the hospital room was instantly suffocating.
Chloe stepped closer to my bed, her protective instincts suddenly flaring up as she glared at the doctor.
“What do you mean?” Chloe demanded defensively.
“Is there an infection? Is she going to need another surgery?”
The doctor shook his head, holding the manila folder tightly against his chest.
“Medically speaking, her recovery is proceeding perfectly,” he assured us, keeping his voice carefully neutral.
“The bullet missed her lung by a fraction of an inch, and the vascular damage has been completely repaired.”
He looked back and forth between Chloe and me, a deep frown settling on his face.
“The issue isn't her physical health.”
The door to the hospital room swung open again, and our father rushed in, holding two cups of stale cafeteria coffee.
He froze when he saw me awake, his exhausted face instantly lighting up with overwhelming relief.
“Maya!” he cried out, practically dropping the coffee as he rushed to my bedside.
He kissed my forehead, his tears dropping onto my cheeks.
“Thank god, I was so terrified,” he whispered into my hair.
The doctor cleared his throat loudly, interrupting the emotional reunion.
My father turned around, wiping his eyes, and finally noticed the grim expression on the doctor’s face.
“What’s wrong?” my father asked, his protective posture returning instantly.
“I need to ask a sensitive question,” the doctor said, opening the manila folder.
“Maya required three pints of blood during the emergency surgery.”
The doctor pulled out a sheet of paper covered in complex medical charts.
“Chloe volunteered to be a direct donor, stating that as a twin, she would be a perfect match.”
I looked at Chloe, my heart swelling with gratitude.
She had tried to give me her blood to save my life, putting her own fear of needles aside.
“Yes, I offered, but the nurses told me my blood type was incompatible,” Chloe said, her voice tinged with frustration.
“Which is impossible, because we are twins.”
The doctor sighed heavily, sliding the piece of paper onto the rolling tray table at the end of my bed.
“Fraternal twins can have different blood types, Chloe, that isn't entirely uncommon,” the doctor explained carefully.
He looked directly at our father.
“However, standard procedure requires us to run a rapid genetic screening to prevent severe transfusion reactions in trauma cases.”
The doctor tapped his pen against the paper.
“The genetic screening didn't just show different blood types.”
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The room felt perfectly still as the doctor delivered the final blow.
“The screening proved that the two of you share absolutely zero matching DNA markers.”
