Fiona's fork clattered to the floor with a crisp sound, but she just stared at me, wide-eyed with fear and confusion.
My parents instinctively frowned, looking like they wanted to say something but didn't know where to start.
"Chloe." In the end, it was Wyatt who broke the silence. "Are you sure you heard correctly? Wasn't this case closed a while ago? The insurance company compensated us, and I settled everything with the police. Why would they find the driver now?"
"Exactly, Chloe," my mother chimed in. "You must have heard it wrong. That truck driver had it tough too. Maybe he panicked and ran off then."
"How could they have found him? That doesn't make sense..." Fiona muttered to herself, glancing over at Wyatt..
"Chloe, sometimes it's best to let things go. There's no need to keep pursuing this," Wyatt continued to persuade.
Back when the accident happened, I was too emotionally unstable to deal with the authorities, so Wyatt handled everything.
He told me the truck driver had fled and urged me to let it go, saying he didn't want me to keep reliving such a painful memory.
In my confusion, I agreed and didn't press for details.
But now, as I watched them all singing the same tune, I couldn't help but find it amusing.
"Maybe I misheard," I said, feigning frustration. "But every time I think about losing my leg in that accident, I can't help feeling bitter."
Fiona said, "Chloe, Wyatt was driving the car at the time, and it was speeding. If you keep digging into this, he might be held responsible, too. Maybe it's best to just let it go and not dwell on it."
"Exactly, Chloe," my mother chimed in. "You must have heard it wrong. That truck driver had it tough, too. Maybe he panicked and ran off then."
It was just a leg.
I touched where my right leg used to be and wisely held my tongue.
But that night, Fiona didn't look too well.
After Wyatt dropped me off at home, he said he had to work late due to an urgent matter at the office and told me to get some rest. He then hurriedly drove off.
The moment he left, I called a taxi and followed him.
As expected, he headed straight for Fiona's dance studio.
I watched from my wheelchair as he made his way to the third floor effortlessly.
The employees had already gone home for the night, but the lights were still on. As Wyatt went inside, I saw two shadows moving through the window.