- 11.
For more than two weeks after I regained consciousness, Phoebe Johnson was constantly by my side. She was so dedicated to taking care of me–feeding me, helping me to the restroom, and almost assisting me with my clothes. I was eager to recover quickly because if it continued like this, Phoebe might become overwhelmed.
When she wasn’t in my hospital room, I tried to make it to the bathroom on my own. I could walk without assistance, but as I was leaving, my legs suddenly gave out. I fell, hitting my face against the sink, and ended up bleeding all over. As I struggled to get up, I accidentally pulled the cloth off the bathroom mirror. When I looked up, I was met with a terrifying face.
Wesley Miller rushed in, pulled me into his arms, and shielded me from seeing myself. He muttered under his breath, “I just went to pay some bills, where has Phoebe gone? Useless!”
I couldn’t push him away, so I frowned and interrupted him, “Stop talking poorly about Phoebe in front of me. I don’t want to hear it.”
<
“She has her own life, family, and job. Unlike me, who just causes trouble for her.
Wesley fell silent. He grabbed a handful of tissues to clean the blood off my face. Seeing the blood, his eyes turned red, and he asked, tr sound calm, “Why didn’t you tell me sooner that you were sick? Why didn’t you use your voice?”
“You could have gotten better. Do you know that, Phoebe? Why did you have to be so stubborn and let it get to this point?”
I replied calmly, “Because I don’t need you.”
“I don’t need your concern or your company.
“So whether you know I’m sick or not doesn’t matter to me.”
In truth, I never deliberately hid my illness from Wesley Miller. My medical report was right there on the desk, easy to see, but he never looked. During the days I was wasting away, Cora Miller was by his side. She was younger, prettier, and more likable than I was. Wesley spe nights away from home for her.
He didn’t see me collapse numerous times, writhing in pain, crying in fear, and begging the doctors over the phone to save me. Wesley laid back on the hospital bed, and as he bent over, a tear fell onto my face. He turned away and said sarcastically, “Yeah, Phoebe, you’re amazing You can just throw me away whenever you feel like it.”
“I know you don’t need me. Fine, you don’t need me.”
After a long pause, he continued with a sob in his voice, “But I need you”
I didn’t respond, closed my eyes, and pretended to sleep.
