I pulled out my phone, pressed record and then guided my wheelchair toward the hospital entrance just as my parents came rushing over.
Mom’s eyes flickered with unease.
“Azalea, why didn’t you wait for us before going in?”
Dad’s frown deepened beside her. “Didn’t we tell you the hospital is packed and chaotic? We can’t let you go in alone; it’s not safe.”
I met their worried gazes with calm indifference.
“I couldn’t wait any longer, so I went inside to use the restroom,” I replied evenly, my face betraying nothing.
Mom hesitated before asking, “You didn’t see anyone, did you?”
The flicker of panic in her expression cut through me like a blade. I wanted to scream, to demand answers; why did you lie to me?
But I already knew the truth. Asking wouldn’t change anything.
I had already decided to leave.
“See anyone? I was in a hurry and spent a while in the restroom. I wasn’t paying attention.”
Dad exhaled. “Let’s go. We’ll take you upstairs.”
He took hold of my wheelchair while Mom crouched down, adjusting my mask with delicate care.
“The flu is spreading. You need to protect yourself. If you get sick, it’ll break my heart.”
Once, the concern in her eyes would have moved me to tears.