Didn’t know that the anesthesia had long lost its effect on me.
Didn’t know that I had heard every single word.
Didn’t know that I had recorded it all.
So this was their plan all along.
They had spent five years feeding me lies, hiring a doctor from abroad just to deceive me. No wonder the so-called rehabilitation center was tucked away on the twelfth floor of the inpatient ward; it was all a carefully woven illusion.
A sharp pain lanced through my chest and silent tears slipped from the corners of my eyes.
After the "treatment," my parents cheerfully wheeled me home, warmth laced into every word and gesture as if they hadn’t just sentenced me to a life of suffering.
Two hours ago, Elijah had been at the hospital, whispering sweet nothings to Scarlett.
Now, he stood at the door in an apron, smiling like the devoted fiancé he pretended to be.
"Dear, rehabilitation must have been exhausting, right? I made you some bone broth. It’ll help you recover faster!"
His gaze brimmed with tenderness, his voice rich with concern, just like the man who once swore to love me, to cherish me, to stand by my side forever.
If I hadn’t seen him with Scarlett at the hospital, if I hadn’t heard their whispered truths, I might have believed him.
Might have let that warmth seep into my frozen heart.
But now, all I saw was the lie.
His love had never been mine.
It had always belonged to the very woman who shattered my legs.
He was willing to sacrifice our marriage, to pretend to love me, all just to issue a letter of forgiveness for her.
He even had a son with her.
During dinner, my mother suddenly teared up, her gaze lingering on the dishes before her. She wiped at her eyes, her expression heavy with sorrow.
Elijah immediately put down his spoon and fork, his face filled with concern as he asked what was wrong.
My father let out a long sigh, gently patting her back.
"She must be thinking about Scarlett’s favorite dishes and starting to miss her."
"That child, she made a mistake, but we raised her for over ten years. She didn’t deserve to die."
A bitter taste filled my mouth.
She didn’t deserve to die?
Then what about me?
Did I deserve to be sacrificed for her? Was I just supposed to accept it?
"Darling, it’s been five years already," Elijah said softly. "Scarlett was only twenty back then. She might have acted impulsively and made a mistake."