Unmatched Wife: Not His To Claim Anymore novel Chapter 90

MATTHEW

I sat across from Dr. Fisher in her office while Theo played quietly in the waiting room with her assistant, and tried to explain what had happened at the park without making it sound as catastrophic as it felt.

“He was convinced he saw Bianca,” I said, my voice tight. “Heard a woman laugh and call to her son, and he just–he ran after her. Pushed through crowds of people, completely focused on this woman who he thought was his mother.”

Dr. Fisher made a note on her tablet, her expression carefully neutral. “And when he reached her?”

“It wasn’t Bianca. Just a woman with similar hair color and height. Theo was-” I stopped, remembering my son’s face when the stranger turned around. The hope dying in his eyes. “He was devastated. Completely broke down. Started crying and saying he’d really seen her, that it was really her voice.”

“How did you respond?”

“I tried to explain that his brain was playing tricks on him. That he wanted to see Bianca so badly that he’d convinced himself this stranger was her.” I rubbed my face, exhausted. “But Dr. Fisher, this feels like a huge setback. He’d been doing better- talking more, eating better, not crying himself to sleep every night. And now he’s back to that first stage, the denial where he can’t accept that she’s really gone.”

Dr. Fisher was quiet for a moment, studying her notes. “Matthew, what Theo experienced at the park is actually fairly common in children who’ve lost a parent. It’s called searching behavior–the child’s mind attempting to locate the lost attachment figure because it can’t fully process the permanence of death.”

“So this is normal?”

“It’s a normal part of grief, yes. But it’s also concerning given the intensity of his reaction.” She set down her tablet and looked at me directly. “I’m going to recommend that we have Theo evaluated by a pediatric specialist. Just to rule out any underlying issues we might be missing.”

My stomach clenched. “What kind of issues?”

“Nothing necessarily alarming. But when a child has this strong of a dissociative response–running through crowds, fixating on a stranger, becoming convinced of something that contradicts reality–I want to make sure there’s nothing else contributing to his symptoms. Sometimes trauma can trigger other conditions that need different treatment approaches.”

“You think something’s wrong with him beyond grief?”

“I think we should be thorough,” Dr. Fisher said carefully. “Matthew, Theo has been through immense trauma. His mother died, he blames himself, he’s processing guilt and loss and confusion all at once. Most children handle that without developing

additional complications. But some children need extra support, and I want to make sure we’re giving Theo everything he needs.

11

She pulled out a prescription pad and started writing. “There’s a pediatric specialist at BloodMoon General Hospital I’d like you to see. Dr. James Wright. He’s excellent with children who’ve experienced trauma, and he is good with children during examinations. This would just be a standard checkup–some brain assessments, behavioral observations, nothing invasive,”

I took the referral she handed me, staring at the hospital name. BloodMoon General.

“Is this really necessary?” I asked. “He’s four years old. He lost his mother. Of course he’s going to have moments where he

thinks he sees her.”

“And if it’s just grief–related searching behavior, Dr. Wright will confirm that and we’ll continue with our current treatment plan,” Dr. Fisher said firmly. “But Matthew, as Theo’s therapist, I have a responsibility to ensure we’re not missing anything. And as his father, you should want that certainty too.”

1/2

Chapter 90

+25 Bonus

She was right. I knew she was right.

But the thought of taking Theo to another doctor, subjecting him to more examinations and questions, felt like just another

failure on my part.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll make the appointment.”

“Good. And Matthew?” Dr. Fisher’s voice softened. “This doesn’t mean you’ve failed. This doesn’t mean Theo isn’t getting better. It just means we’re being cautious and thorough in his care. That’s what good parents do.”

I left her office feeling like I’d been scraped raw, collected Theo from the waiting room, and drove back to our apartment in

silence.

That night, I called BloodMoon General and scheduled an appointment with Dr. Wright for the following afternoon.

The Next Morning

The hospital was larger than I’d expected—a modern glass and steel structure that spoke of resources and investment. Nothing like the aging facility I’d been to with Bianca all those weeks ago.

Theo held my hand tightly as we walked through the main entrance, his eyes wide as he took in the spacious lobby.

“Is this where they’re going to poke me with needles?” he asked quietly.

“No needles,” I promised. “Dr. Wright just wants to talk to you and maybe play some games. Dr. Fisher said he’s really nice.”

“Dr. Fisher also said therapy would be fun, and it’s mostly just sad,” Theo pointed out with his four–year–old logic.

We checked in at the pediatric unit on the fourth floor, and a cheerful nurse directed us to a waiting area filled with toys and

books.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify