A bitter chill seeped into my bones, spreading through my heart like ice.
He didn’t know.
He had no idea that the very people he spoke of, my so-called family, were the ones who never wanted me to stand again.
No.
They were no longer my family.
As I stepped out of the hospital, my phone vibrated in my hand. Another message from Scarlett.
It was a photo.
In the picture, she cradled her son in Elijah’s arms, their faces glowing with contentment. My parents sat beside them, mirroring their joy.
The five of them smiled as if they belonged together.
Behind them, on the grand villa’s pristine wall, my father’s personally inscribed calligraphy read:
[A harmonious family brings prosperity.]
The cruel irony twisted deep inside me, cutting sharper than any blade.
The five large characters burned into my vision, searing through my eyes and making them sting. Their family, because it had never been mine, had never included me.
I drifted home in a daze, collapsing onto the bed and staring blankly at the ceiling. Time lost meaning, slipping away unnoticed until a familiar voice outside the door jolted me back to reality.
They had returned.
The bedroom door creaked open and Elijah stepped inside. Without hesitation, he walked to my bedside and bent down, wrapping his arms around me.
"Wife, I’m sorry. Work has kept me busy these past few days. I haven’t had time to accompany you."
"The day after tomorrow is your birthday," he continued. "I spoke with my parents and we’ve decided to throw you a grand celebration."
Silence.
I didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at him.
He pressed a lingering kiss to my forehead, tucked the blanket around me like I was something fragile and then turned and left.
And then, like a wave crashing through my mind, I remembered.
Five years ago. My birthday.
That was the day my parents had publicly announced my engagement to Elijah. The day Scarlett had lost control, blinded by rage and run me over, crippling me.
And in the five years since I had been brought back to this house, I had remained an outsider. No matter how much I tried, I could never act spoiled like Scarlett did in front of my parents.
At my own birthday banquet, I had always been a shadow, forgotten in the background, while Scarlett stood at the center, surrounded by guests I didn’t even know.
She had once sneered, “Only I deserve this banquet. You, an orphan from a shelter, don’t deserve anything.”