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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?”
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