The Wife They Left in a Wheelchair

4: 4

4

As I turned to leave, my bad leg buckled without warning, and my shoulder slammed into the vase in the hallway.

The sharp crash of it shattering carried straight into the private room.

The door swung open, and Sawyer stood at the front.

The moment he saw me, the smile froze on his face.

Mom, Dad, and Matilda came out after him.

Mom's first reaction wasn't to ask how long I'd been standing there. It was to move fast and put herself between me and Matilda and the child.

"You said you weren't coming."

"So what is this, hiding out here to eavesdrop?"

I didn't answer.

I just looked at Noah, tucked behind Matilda.

The boy stared at me warily, then suddenly asked,

"Mommy, is she the bad lady who won't let us come home?"

Matilda clapped a hand over his mouth.

"Noah, don't say things like that."

But every face had already changed.

A four-year-old doesn't say something like that out of nowhere.

For the past four years, while they circled this child and shared their happy family, they'd been telling him the same thing, over and over.

That I was the reason his mommy couldn't come home.

That I'd stolen his daddy.

That I refused to leave the three of them in peace.

Matilda's eyes went red at once.

"Sis, don't blame Noah."

"He only got the wrong idea about you because he sees me sneaking around every time I come back to the country."

Sawyer stepped in front of her right away.

"Whatever it is, take it up with me."

"Don't scare the boy."

He pulled Matilda and Noah into his arms without thinking.

The same way, five years ago, right after the crash, he'd held me while I was covered in blood.

Back then he said he'd make them pay for what happened to me, no matter what it cost.

Now he'd finally settled that score for me.

And then he'd gone and stood beside the person who did it.

I asked him, "Did Matilda really spend five years in prison?"

Sawyer said nothing.

But Dad cut in, impatient.

"She didn't serve the full five years, no. But hiding out alone overseas, with a home she couldn't come back to, how is that any different from prison?"

"You won't be satisfied until she's suffered every minute of it locked up in there?"

I looked at my father.

"But overseas she had you. She had Sawyer. She had the child."

"When I was on the operating table, who sat with me?"

The hallway went quiet.

Mom's eyes reddened again fast.

"How is it you only ever remember your own suffering?"

"Mattie was carrying a baby, all alone in another country. That wasn't easy either."

"We only went over now and then to look after her."

Now and then.

They were in every single photo of that child, from birth to the age of four.

But I had three surgeries. Countless rounds of rehab.

Not once did any of them show up.

I lowered my head and asked, almost like I was punishing myself, "Why did you use my child's name?"

Sawyer frowned.

"It's just a name."

"That child is gone. Are you saying the name can never be used again?"

My body swayed.

So this was how it stood in his heart.

Our child was dead, so the name, the longevity lock, the father—all of it could just be handed over to another child.

Only I was still standing here like a fool, guarding the past.

Noah started crying, frightened by the fight.

Sawyer scooped him up at once.

Mom and Dad closed in on either side of them.

And I stood alone, facing all of them, dragging the leg Matilda had crippled.

Not one person came toward me.

Mom looked at me, disappointed.

"Your sister just got back, and it's Noah's birthday today."

"Do you really have to pick this moment to upset everyone?"

Dad's voice went cold with reproach.

"We raised you all these years, and not so you could turn this cold-blooded."

Even Sawyer said,

"Edna, I never divorced you. That alone is me doing my best to make it up to you."

"You can't take losing your child and turn it into refusing to let anyone else be happy."

All at once I felt so tired.

I didn't even have the strength left to argue.

"And if I can't accept it?"

Mom's face shut down completely.

"If you can't accept it, then go."

"But think it through."

"Walk out that door today, and don't ever come back. Don't call us your parents anymore!"

Sawyer spoke too, cold.

"If you leave now, I won't come looking for you."

"Whenever you actually come to your senses, that's when you come back and apologize."

They all watched me.

Certain I had nowhere to go.

Certain that this crippled leg of mine could never walk me out of the life they'd fenced off for me.

I nodded.

"All right."

No one asked me to stay.

Mom turned away to soothe Matilda.

Dad crouched to pick up the birthday hat Noah had dropped on the floor.

Sawyer carried the boy back into the room without so much as another glance at me.

The door swung slowly shut in front of my face.

Inside, the birthday song started up again.

I dragged my bad leg into the elevator.

Once I was home, I signed the divorce papers and set my wedding ring down on top of them.

Into the suitcase went only a few clothes, my passport, and my painkillers.

Eleven forty at night.

I boarded the flight out of the city.

The plane was taxiing toward the runway when Sawyer's message finally came through.

【Come back once you've had enough of this.】

【What Mom and Dad said was just temper talking. Don't actually think they'd give up on you.】

I didn't reply.

I only turned off the phone and pulled out the SIM card.

They all thought I was just sulking.

Not one of them imagined.

That line, never come back—

it turned out to be exactly what came true.