Their faces are heavy with sympathy, their eyes too soft, too knowing.
I can’t take it.
I can’t take their pity.
So I turn away, letting my gaze drift back to the window, where the sun shines, the sky impossibly blue. It’s the kind of day that shouldn’t exist when your world has fallen apart. And I cling to it, needing the distraction, the illusion of normal.
Anything but this.
“Dee, you seem a million miles away, honey,” Mummy says gently, her voice dragging me back to this all-too-imperfect reality.
I exhale, and Colt’s hand tightens around mine like he’s grounding me. I force myself to look at them, past their concerned expressions, and stretch a smile across my lips. It’s fake, painfully so, but it’s all I can manage.
“Sorry. It’s just… it’s such a perfect day out there,” I say, my voice soft, my eyes drifting toward the window again. “I’d rather be anywhere but stuck in this hospital room. I’ve been in here for over a month. I’ve forgotten what the sun even feels like. Especially since we hardly ever get any at home. Now I’m in the land of sunshine, and I can’t even go out in it. It’s depressing.”
“Do you want me to see if I can take you out for a bit?” Colt asks, ever attentive. “I’ll grab a wheelchair, we could go to the park or something?”
I nod, and for the first time all morning, a sliver of light pierces the damn fog in my brain.
He smiles, stands, and leans down to kiss my forehead. “I’ll be right back.” As the door clicks shut behind him, silence settles in, heavy and suffocating.
“Deliah, honey,” Daddy says, and I know by his tone something awful is coming, “I know this is a big shock. I can’t imagine how dreadful you must feel. But sweetheart, you need to focus on getting better. Once you’re healed physically, you can deal with the rest. But for now… I think you need to snap out of it.”
My head whips toward him, eyes wide in disbelief.
“Ford!” Mummy scolds sharply, her voice low but biting.
But I don’t hold back. I can’t.
“Snap out of it?” I hiss, my voice sharp and shaking. “You think I can justsnap out of it? I found out less than twenty-four hours ago that I canneverhave children, Daddy.Never. And you want me to pretend I’m fine? Just flip a damn switch and smile through it?” My voice rises, hot with pain. “God, you’re so fucking insensitive.”
“Deliah, language,” he chides, like that’s the issue front and center right now. And then he keeps going like he hasn’t already said enough. “Insensitive?” he scoffs. “Sweetheart, being insensitive would be saying you’re acting like a child. That you’remaking this harder on everyone around you by wallowing in misery. It’s not the end of the world, Deliah. You’re not dying. You’re not crippled. Hell, you could’ve come out of this accident in a wheelchair. Or worse… a quadriplegic. But you didn’t. You got lucky.This? This is a blessing in disguise.”
I’m frozen.
My jaw clenches.
He’s still talking, like he hasn’t just sucker-punched me.
“You weren’t even trying to have a child yet. You need to stop making this bigger than it is. Not being able to conceive isn’t the end of your world unless you let it be.”
I blink at him, stunned. My father’s words hit harder than I thought humanly possible.
“No, but—”
“But nothing, Deliah,” he cuts in, tone clipped. “You don’t even want kids right now, so why are you torturing yourself over something that might not matter for years? Worry about it when you and Colter are actually ready to start a family. Until then, you’ve got frozen eggs, adoption, fostering…” He breathes heavily. “You have options, Deliah. You’re acting like it’s the end of the world, but it’s not. You’re blowing this way out of proportion.”
“Ford, stop it,” Mummy says, her voice tight with warning.
But he barrels on, “No, Liz. She needs to stop acting like a brat, and you need to stop mollycoddling her.”
My brows pinch together in disbelief, my frustration boiling over. “Well, if I’m such a fucking child, then maybe I’ll stop calling you Daddy. Maybe I’ll just go with Dad from now on,” I snap, swiping at the tears streaking my face.
He doesn’t even flinch. “That’s your call, Deliah. You’ll always be my little girl. And that’s why I think you need some tough love—”
“Well, maybe I don’t wanttough fucking love!”
“No one wants it, Deliah,” he says flatly. “But sometimes we need it. You have got to stop making this about yourself and think about Colter. He nearly lost you. Think about your mother, who almost lost her only child. Think about your friends, watching you spiral and shut them out. You’re clinging to something you can’t change. And if you can’t fix it, then you deal with it. Life doesn’t pause because you’re in pain. You pick yourself up and move forward. That’s how you live. Otherwise, what are you doing? Sitting in here, wasting away? That’s not living, it’s wallowing. And you’re better than this.”
