“Ford, that’s enough,” Mummy says, her voice sharp as steel. “You’re upsetting her.”
Too late.
I’m already crying.
Not because he’s wrong, but because somewhere deep down, I know there’s truth in what he said. But I can’t just bounce back. I can’t just‘deal with it.’I’m grieving something I’ll never get back, and the pain is so heavy I can barely breathe through it.
I try to hold it in, but the sob cracks through my chest just as Colt walks in, pushing a wheelchair, his eyes immediately narrowing at the tension in the room.
“Hey… what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I mutter, voice thick. “Dad…” I emphasize the word, “… was just leaving.”
Colt’s gaze shifts to my father, who shakes his head and huffs like he’s the damn victim here.
“Deliah, your mother and I came all the way from London to see you,” he says, exasperated. “We’ve been here for weeks, supporting you, and now you’re kicking us out?”
I push the blanket aside and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my movements stiff and shaky. Colt rushes to steady me as I slide down into the chair, breath catching at the smallvictory of the movement not hurting as much as I feared it might.
“Thank you for coming,” I say coolly. “But if you won’t leave… then I will.” I settle into the seat with a shaky exhale and look up at Colt. “Can you take me outside, please?”
Colt creases his eyebrows and looks over at Dad in confusion.
“We will head over to the hotel, honey, and come back tomorrow when you’re feeling better. I love you, sweetheart,” Mummy says, before she walks over and kisses my head. I manage a half-smile when she looks at me lovingly, then turns back to Dad with a glare.
He huffs and walks out of the room, with Mummy following closely behind.
“Wanna tell me what that was all about?” Colt asks.
I sigh, shaking my head, not knowing what to say, but I give it a go. “He thinks I should justsnap out of it,like it’s that simple,” I say, and Colt leans down and kisses my lips tenderly.
“Baby, you take all the time you need. Don’t let your father or anyone dictate the way you should be feeling. Only you know how to deal with it, and no matter how long it takes for you to feel better, I will be here for you,” he reassures me with a smile.
I nod. At least I know someone is on my side.
“So shall we take you out into the big, beautiful world?” Colt asks.
“Oh, God, yes,” I reply, relaxing into the chair and finally feeling a slight sense of happiness. I’m going outside for the first time in ages, and I can’t wait.
Colt chuckles, taking hold of the chair and wheeling me out of my room and down the hallway.
I’m numb.
I think the misery of dealing with Dad and the happiness of going outside are canceling each other out, so I feel nothing. We make our way to the automatic doors at the back of the hospital.I can’t go all the way to the park as there’s too much risk of paparazzi, but Colt guides me into the hospital gardens instead.
The sun beams down from a flawless, cloudless sky, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I take a deep breath that doesn’t ache.
Dad was right.
It is better to be alive with no terminal illness, no life-altering disability.
He’s also right that I should be grateful.
I survived.
And aside from a broken leg, I came through in one piece. I mean, who’s to say I would have even been able to get pregnant? It doesn’t just happen because you want it to.
We might have needed IVF anyway.
