The next morning, my parents arrived at the hospital at exactly 10:03.
They came together.
My father carried a leather briefcase.
My mother carried a bouquet of white roses.
From a distance, they looked like concerned parents visiting their injured daughter.
But I knew better now.
I knew what they had said behind closed doors.
I knew about the money.
I knew about the false authorization.
And I knew they had helped Garrett build the cage I had spent seven years trying to escape.
The door opened.
My mother walked in first.
“Charlotte.”
Her voice was soft.
Almost tender.
I looked at her.
For years, that voice had been enough to make me feel guilty.
Today, it sounded like an actor reading lines from a script.
She placed the flowers beside my bed.
“Oh, sweetheart. You look terrible.”
I almost smiled.
“I wonder why.”
My mother froze for half a second.
Then she recovered.
“Your father and I have been worried sick.”
My father walked toward the window.
He didn’t look at me.
“Garrett explained everything.”
There it was.
Not we heard what happened.
Not we’re sorry.
Not we’re here for you.
Garrett explained everything.
I slowly turned my head toward him.
“Did he?”
My father nodded.
“He said you two had an argument.”
I stared at him.
“An argument?”
“He said emotions got out of control.”
I laughed.
It hurt my ribs so badly that I had to stop.
My mother immediately frowned.
“Charlotte, don’t make this worse.”
I looked at her.
“Worse?”
“You know Garrett isn’t a bad man.”
I said nothing.
My father finally turned around.
“Your husband built a company from nothing.”
“He built it with my work.”
My father’s face tightened.
“Don’t start this.”
“Start what?”
“This bitterness.”
I watched him carefully.
He was nervous.
I had known my father my entire life.
He always tapped his thumb against his index finger when he was worried.
He was doing it now.
“What are you worried about, Dad?”
His hand stopped.
“Nothing.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
My mother stepped closer.
“Charlotte, we’re not here to argue.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To make sure you don’t do anything foolish.”
I looked at her.
“What would be foolish?”
She exchanged a glance with my father.
Then she said quietly,
“Leaving Garrett.”
The words landed harder than I expected.
Even after everything I’d learned, hearing them from her still hurt.
My mother sat beside me.
“Marriage isn’t perfect.”
I stared at her.
“He broke three of my ribs.”
“He lost his temper.”
“He strangled me.”
“He was angry.”
“He punctured my lung.”
Her eyes hardened.
“You know how difficult men can become under pressure.”
For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
Then I whispered,
“Is that what you told yourself when Dad hurt you?”
My mother’s face went completely still.
My father looked sharply at me.
“What did you say?”
I looked at him.
“I remember.”
