Finally she said, “People have been… brutal.”
I frowned. “To you?”
She nodded once, sharp. “To everyone,” she said. “To mothers. To nurses. To anyone who looks tired. Like tired is a crime.”
I felt something inside me crack open—small but real.
“What happened?” I asked.
She glanced over her shoulder toward the nurses’ station. “I can’t talk long,” she said. “But… after the video, someone posted my face. Someone wrote my first name. Someone called me a scammer. Said I staged it.”
My stomach turned.
“Was it staged?” I asked softly.
Her eyes flashed. “Do I look like I have time to stage anything?” she hissed, then caught herself and swallowed. “No. It wasn’t staged. My check didn’t clear because my account got hit with an automatic bill I forgot about. One charge. One mistake. And suddenly I’m… a lesson.”
I nodded slowly.
“One charge,” I echoed. “One mistake.”
She looked down at her hands. “Do you know what’s controversial?” she whispered. “It’s not the shelf. It’s not you yelling at that man. It’s not even the formula.”
“What is it?” I asked.