I turned to the window. The sun was bright outside, but in this room, all I felt was cold.
Abraham pouted as his father disappeared. He tugged at Loren’s mother’s sleeve and whined, “I want to stay with Aunt Loren! I want to buy her candy so she won’t be sad!”
Lin’s mother stroked his head gently. “Alright, we’ll go find her together.”
Before leaving, she looked at me and said, without warmth, “You should rest.”
Then they were gone.
For the next five days, no one visited.
Not my husband, not my son, not even my parents.
I might as well have been invisible.
Alone, I smiled bitterly and pulled out my phone to order takeout.
The delivery man was more considerate than my so-called family. He set up the food neatly, adjusted the bed for me, and even asked if I needed help.
As I ate in silence, I couldn’t help but think: even strangers show more care than those closest to me.
---
The day I was discharged, I didn’t go home.
I went straight to the research institute.
By the time Arthur arrived—still glued to Loren—I had already brought the police with me to gather evidence.
He stormed in, face dark with fury. “She’s your sister, and you called the police?”
“For a good reason,” I said coldly.