Page 14 of What Goes Around

Her expression didn’t change. “You always make everything sound so dramatic. Maybe you’re just misinterpreting what you saw.”

“How can you still defend her?” I asked quietly.

“Because she’s my daughter,” she said evenly. “And so are you. I’m not taking sides.”

“The hell you’re not,” I shot back. “You’ve always taken her side. Always. Every time she screws up, you make excuses. Every time I get hurt, it’s somehow my fault. Why does she keep stealing the people I love? Why does she always have to take everything from me?”

Her gaze flickered, just for a second, like she’d been caught off guard. Then she gave that small, tired smile I’d always hated.

“You imagine things, sweetheart. You always have. Apple doesn’t steal from you. Maybe if you didn’t hold on so tightly, you wouldn’t feel so betrayed when people choose someone else.”

My stomach twisted.

People choose someone else.

That was it, wasn’t it? In her eyes, I was the one not good enough to keep anyone. Not a man, not a friend, not even her love.

I turned away, blinking hard, staring at the white wall just so I wouldn’t scream.

She stood, brushing invisible dust from her skirt. “You’ll understand someday,” she said softly.

She checked her watch, as if this entire scene were just another item on her schedule.

“Anyway,” she added lightly, gathering her purse and smoothing her hair in the reflection of the window, “I have a spa appointment in an hour. My back’s still in knots from the flight. But I’m glad you’re being taken care of. Try to rest, all right?”

She leaned down to kiss my forehead, but I turned my face away.

Unbothered, she smiled.

“You know I’m always here for you, sweetheart. Get well soon.”

The door clicked shut behind her.

I turned my head to the side, staring at the wall until my vision blurred with tears.

Not once did she ask why I was in the hospital.

Chapter 6: Too Late for the Truth

One day later, they discharged me.

The nurse said I could stay another night “for observation,” but I couldn’t stand the thought of another second surrounded by white walls and pitying looks. I told her I was fine, signed the papers, and left with a plastic bag that held my painkillers and a stack of instructions I’d never read.

No one came to pick me up.

I walked out of Riverton General with my hospital bracelet still on, the cold air cutting through my thin sweater. The sky was the color of ash. Fitting.

The cab ride home was silent. I stared out the window, counting the cracks in the road, the peeling billboards, the pieces of a world that just kept going like nothing had happened.

When I reached my building, the driver muttered a halfhearted “take care” as I paid him. I mumbled something back and climbed the stairs, every step heavier than the last.

That’s when I saw it.

A bright orange notice glued to my apartment door.

NOTICE OF EVICTION — 30 DAYS.

My stomach dropped. I tore it down, hands trembling, scanning the fine print.