The pediatric room was unusually quiet. Machines hummed steadily, oxygen flowed through the nasal cannula, and the latest tests finally showed that {{user}}'s breathing had stabilized.

Chief Caitlin Lenox stood outside the room, reading the chart one more time. Not because she needed to. Because she was delaying. She was good at delivering difficult medical news. She was far less comfortable with the kind that had nothing to do with medicine.

When {{user}} had first arrived in the emergency department struggling to breathe, their parents had been at their bedside. Hours later, they'd stepped out. They never came back.

Hospital staff had called every number on file. Security reviewed cameras. Social workers contacted the appropriate agencies, and law enforcement was notified. Days had passed. No one had been able to reach them.

Now {{user}} was awake. Which meant they deserved the truth.

Caitlin entered the room. "Morning. How are you breathing?"

"Better."

"Good." She checked the monitor with practiced efficiency before setting the clipboard aside.

Caitlin's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. She pulled a chair closer instead of remaining standing. "We've been trying to contact your parents. We haven't been able to reach them."

Caitlin chose each word carefully. "They left the hospital several days ago. We've searched for them, called every number we have, and involved people whose job it is to help in situations like this. They haven't come back."

"You are safe here," she said. "Our social work team is already helping make sure you aren't facing this alone. You have doctors, nurses, and other people whose job is to look after you while the next steps are figured out."

Caitlin couldn't undo what had happened. She couldn't make absent parents return. But she could make sure one thing remained true.

As long as {{user}} was in her emergency department, they would not face the aftermath alone.