My Forced Marriage To A Coma Knight

Eleanore POV:

The sterile scent of antiseptic was the first thing that registered. My eyelids fluttered open, revealing a blinding white ceiling. I was in a hospital. Again. A familiar, cold ache settled in my chest. I looked around. Empty. Not a single familiar face.

A nurse bustled in, her uniform crisp. "Ms. Spence, you're awake. How are you feeling?" She checked my vitals, her expression neutral. "You took quite a fall. Luckily, no major lasting damage, just a concussion and some nasty bruises. You'll be discharged in a day or two."

A day or two. My family hadn't even bothered to stay.

My phone buzzed on the bedside table. A message from Josie. A picture of her and my parents, laughing, at a fancy restaurant. So glad you're okay, sis! We were so worried seeing you like that. Mom and Dad insisted I needed a pick-me-up after your 'accident.' Feel better soon! The words, dripping with false concern, were a fresh wound. I didn't respond. I wouldn't.

Two days later, I was discharged. A hospital car dropped me at the sprawling Spence estate. The grand entrance, once a gateway to warmth, now felt like the mouth of a tomb. As I stepped inside, I heard laughter from the living room. Josie's lilting voice, my mother's indulgent chuckle, Colbert's hearty laugh. Addison's familiar murmur. They were all there, a perfect picture of familial bliss, utterly undisturbed by my absence. No trace of the blood I'd left on the staircase. It had been scrubbed clean.

I walked straight to my room, a shell of its former self. The delicate floral wallpaper, the antique vanity, the childhood trinkets – they all felt alien now. This wasn't my space anymore. It was a museum of a life I no longer lived.

I started to pack. Not clothes, not jewelry. I pulled out old photo albums. Pictures of me and Addison, me and Colbert, me with my parents, beaming. A small, handcrafted wooden dog, a gift from Colbert when I was seven, after my first puppy died. A faded ribbon from a school play where my mother had cheered loudest. A pressed flower from Addison, given to me on our first date. Each item a shard of a broken past.

I gathered them all in an old wicker basket. Then, I walked out to the sprawling back garden, once my sanctuary. The setting sun cast long shadows. I pulled out a can of lighter fluid.

The first picture to burn was one of Addison and me, laughing, our arms around each other. The flames licked at the glossy paper, consuming our happy faces. Then, the wooden dog. The ribbon. The flower. Each flicker of orange light was a silent farewell.

"Eleanore! What on earth are you doing?" My mother's horrified voice cut through the twilight. The whole family, drawn by the smell of smoke and the glow of the fire, had rushed out.

I watched silently as the last ember died. My eyes were dry.

"Are you serious?" Colbert demanded, his face contorted in anger. "You're burning old memories? What is wrong with you? Are you still upset about the other night?"

Addison stepped forward, a strange mix of concern and exasperation on his face. "El, it was just a little push. Josie was really upset. You always make a mountain out of a molehill."

My mother wrung her hands. "Darling, it's just a few old photos. Don't be so dramatic. We can print new ones. You're just angry about something small."

"Small?" I finally spoke, my voice raspy, unfamiliar. "Was my supposed 'arranged marriage' to a comatose man a small thing? Was giving up my kidney a small thing? Was being pushed down the stairs and left for dead a small thing?" My gaze swept over their stunned faces. "You sent Josie to marry Kayson Knight, didn't you? To protect your precious reputation. To protect her."

My father stepped forward. "Eleanore, you don't understand. Josie was just trying to help. She' s had a difficult life. We were trying to make things right for her."

"Right for her?" I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "And what about right for me? For your actual daughter?" I shook my head, the pain in my chest a dull throb. "Don't pretend you ever cared about that." I turned my back on them, walking away from the smoldering ashes of my past.

Inside, my room had been tidied. On my bed, a pile of designer bags, fresh clothes, a new phone. My parents' clumsy attempts at appeasement. A familiar tactic. When they' d hurt me as a child, they' d buy me a new doll or a pony. Now, it was haute couture.

I swept them all into a massive trash bag. The bag, heavy with their hollow apologies, landed with a thud in the outdoor bins.

Just then, Josie appeared, her eyes wide with feigned shock. "Eleanore! What are you doing? Those are beautiful! Mom and Dad just bought them for you!"

I looked at her, my gaze cold and steady. "They mean nothing to me, Josie. Just like you." Her smile faltered. "Enjoy my old life, Josie. You've earned it. Every last toxic, suffocating piece."

I didn't wait for her reaction. I walked past her, out the door, the sound of her stunned silence a final, delicious note in the symphony of my departure. I knew then, there was nothing left to salvage.