“This isn’t me,” she said, holding the paper up without looking away from it. Ashley stood, moved closer, and took the page from her hand. Her face changed as she read it. “That’s… not your file,” she said quietly. Her voice was level, but her fingers curled tightly around the edge.
Within minutes, a nurse reappeared, followed by two doctors. The file was reviewed again. Pages cross-checked. Barcodes scanned. And then came the explanation—delivered carefully, but unmistakable in its finality. “There was a barcode mix-up on the intake day,” one of them said. “Two patients named Tula. Same initial. Different floors.”