And my parents, after erasing the evidence, still refused to believe me. Instead, they had Elijah marry me, not out of love, but to keep issuing letters of forgiveness, shielding Scarlett from the consequences of her actions.
My phone rang.
It was my mother.
“Azalea, why didn’t you wait for us to go to the hospital together? We’re on our way. Where are you?”
Hearing the urgency in her voice, fury surged through me, burning away the last remnants of my restraint.
I curled my fingers into fists, my nails digging deep into my palms.
“Oh, I just thought I shouldn’t inconvenience you my whole life,” I said, my voice light, almost mocking. “So this time, I decided to come for rehabilitation on my own.”
“We’re family! How could you ever be a burden to us? Have you reached the hospital yet? We’re nearby; we’ll be there right away!”
Family.
Before, every time I came for rehabilitation, my parents had always been by my side.
I had once mistaken their actions for love and concern. But now, the truth lay bare before me.
“Hmm, I just arrived. I’m about to enter the lobby.”
I maneuvered my wheelchair around the corner and deliberately paused.