Chapter 2

Mom's eyes flickered with panic. "Mae, why didn't you wait for us before going in?" Beside her, Dad frowned and added, "We told you the hospital is crowded and chaotic. We didn't want you going in alone!" "I waited for a while, but you didn't show up, so I went in to use the restroom," I replied calmly, keeping my expression neutral. Mom hesitated, then asked tentatively, "You didn't run into anyone, did you?" Her nervous expression cut through me like a knife. At that moment, I wanted to scream and demand answers on why they had lied to me. Nonetheless, I knew asking now would be pointless. After all, I had already decided to leave. I replied, "Run into anyone? I was in a hurry and spent a long time in the restroom. I didn't notice anything." Seeing that I did not seem to be lying, they visibly relaxed. Dad grabbed the handles of my wheelchair and said, "Let's go, we'll take you upstairs." Mom crouched beside me and carefully adjusted my face mask. "The flu's been going around lately. You need to protect yourself, or I'll worry if you get sick." In the past, I would have been moved deeply by the concern in her eyes, but now, I couldn't even feel an ounce of love in them. ... When we reached the rehabilitation center on the 12th floor, I lay down on the hospital bed and let the doctor administer the anesthesia. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I overheard my parents talking to the doctor, Dr. Adam Roberts. "Ms. Gardner's leg has been neglected for too long. If we don't operate soon, she might never walk again," Dr. Roberts said, his voice low and urgent. "The previous rehab sessions were only half-completed, and her medication was replaced with vitamins as you instructed. Mr. Gardner, are you really going to let your daughter spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair?" Dr. Roberts pressed. Dad's voice was sharp as he snapped, "I paid a fortune to bring you here from abroad. Don't question me—just do as you're told!" Mom chimed in, her tone equally cold. "So what if she can't walk? We can take care of her for the rest of her life. It's none of your business!" Dr. Roberts quickly backtracked. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just that Ms. Gardner has been on anesthesia for so long that she might develop immunity. What do we do then?" "That's your problem to figure out. Just make sure her legs don't get better or worse. Keep it under control," Dad ordered. "Understood," Dr. Roberts replied. Then, the door opened, and my parents left. I lay on the bed, feeling as though I had been plunged into a frozen hell. They had no idea that my body had already built a resistance to anesthesia. I had heard every word and even recorded it all. So, this was their plan all along. It turned out they had hired Dr. Roberts from abroad and kept him on their payroll for five years just to deceive me. It finally made sense to me why the rehab center was located on the 12th floor of the inpatient ward—this whole place was a setup. My heart ached, and tears silently streamed down my cheeks. ... After the "treatment", my parents wheeled me home, their faces full of false concern. Bowen, who had been cozying up to Helena at the hospital just two hours earlier, greeted me at the door wearing an apron. "Darling, rehab must be exhausting. I made you some homemade chicken soup. It'll help you recover faster," he said, his eyes filled with what looked like genuine care. Bowen still looked like the devoted husband who swore he would love me and take care of me forever. If I had not seen him with Helena earlier or heard their conversation, I might have been moved. But now, his smile only felt like a mask. Bowen had never loved me at all. Instead, his heart belonged to the woman who had shattered my life.