When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, my body aching and immobilized. Both of my legs were in casts, and every breath sent sharp pain through my ribs. A nurse stood beside me, explaining that I had been hit by a speeding car. My injuries were severe, and my recovery would take months. In those first few days, I felt utterly helpless. Tasks I had taken for granted—sitting up, eating, even reaching for a glass of water—were impossible without assistance. My parents, Eleanor and Richard, became my lifeline, visiting me daily and taking care of Lily while I was confined to the hospital. They brought me meals, reassured me that Lily was doing fine, and tried to lift my spirits with their constant support.
But Ethan was nowhere to be seen. I had expected him to rush to my side the moment he heard about the accident. Instead, there was only silence. Days turned into weeks, and still he didn’t come. Each time the door to my hospital room opened, I hoped it would be him, but it never was. When the third week arrived, Ethan finally made an appearance. As he walked into the room, his expression wasn’t one of concern or guilt. It was annoyance. He stood at the foot of my bed, arms crossed, and delivered his first words since the accident: “Do you have any idea how much of a burden you’ve become?”
His words hit me harder than the car that left me broken in this bed. I stared at him, trying to process the cruelty of what he had just said. How could he blame me for this? How could someone I had given so much to treat me like this? “What do you mean?” I managed to ask, my voice barely a whisper. Ethan’s sharp, cutting words echoed in the sterile hospital room. “Do you have any idea how much of a burden you’ve become?” he repeated, his tone cold and dismissive. I struggled to sit up, my broken body protesting with every small movement, and looked at him in disbelief. “I didn’t ask for this, Ethan,” I said, my voice trembling. “I didn’t choose to be hit by a car.” He scoffed and moved closer, standing over me like a judge delivering a sentence. “You think that makes a difference? You’re lying here doing nothing, and now I’m supposed to handle everything? I can’t afford this, Nancy. You need to figure it out.” Tears welled up in my eyes as his words cut through me. “Figure it out? I can’t even walk, Ethan! What do you expect me to do?”
Ethan’s expression hardened. “Sell your jewelry,” he snapped. “You’ve got more than enough to cover this mess. I’m not wasting another dime on you.” I froze, the shock of his cruelty momentarily silencing me. “You’re serious?” I whispered. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you treat me? You’re my husband, Ethan. You’re supposed to support me.” “Support you?” He barked, his voice rising. “You’re useless now, Nancy. I have to carry this family on my back, and you can’t even do your part anymore.” The air in the room felt heavy, suffocating, as his anger boiled over. I couldn’t stay silent any longer. “I’ve done nothing but support you, Ethan! I gave up my career for you, raised our daughter, and kept our home running while you bounced from one job to another. And now, when I need you most, you call me useless?” His face twisted in rage. “You think you can talk back to me?” he shouted, slamming his fists onto the edge of the bed. “You don’t get to make demands!” I flinched, but before I could respond, he lunged forward, his fists clenched tightly, and struck me in the stomach with both hands. Pain shot through my already broken body, leaving me gasping for air. The room spun as I tried to process what had just happened.
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