"Why don't you relax?" My mother's eyes were still red and swollen. She rolled a chair beside me and smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Mum... come on. What happened? I've been asking for about an hour now."
She hesitated, looking away. Even after the doctor gave her the go-ahead, she was reluctant to tell me the truth.
She finally sat down, smoothing her hands over her lap. "It's not that necessary now, is it? All you need to do is feel fine, and we can go back to living life how we used to."
I gritted my teeth and clenched the bedsheet in my fists. "Mum, stop. I have to know what happened. You can't just keep that from me!"
My voice came out sharper than I expected-louder, too. I didn't even think I had the strength for that.
Her eyes welled up again, and she let out a shaky breath. "Okay then. If you say so. You were always so stubborn."
I sat up slightly, bracing myself.
She swallowed hard before speaking. "You were in an accident... You fell off a building."
My stomach dropped.
"It's a miracle you didn't die," she continued. "You sustained multiple life-threatening injuries, but you pulled through. Unfortunately, after your last surgery... you fell into a coma."
She turned her gaze toward the window, blinking rapidly.
I slowly reached for her hand. "How long has it been?"
"About eight months." Her voice was quiet, distant. "It's unbelievable how much has changed since then."
A heavy silence filled the room.
"What's changed, Mum?"
She smiled, but there was something forced about it. "Telling you about the accident is enough for today. If I tell you the rest right now, you'd most likely fall back into another coma."
I rolled my eyes. "Just tell me, Mum."
"You might have forced me to tell you what happened to you, but you can't bully me into this. Focus on recovery."
Two Weeks Later
I was being discharged.
Don't get me wrong-I wasn't better. If anything, I felt like I'd been tossed into a garbage bin. But the doctor said I was stable enough to leave, though I still had to return for physiotherapy.
As we pulled into the driveway, my mother smiled. "Welcome back home, kiddo!"
I stepped out of the car.
My heart stopped.
This... this wasn't home.
It was a new house. A bigger one.
I hesitated on the doorstep, taking in the sleek, futuristic design-sharp angles, black, gray, and white tones. The whole place overflowed with Mum's style. She had always been so prim and proper, so fancy. But this? This was another level.
When I first woke up, she was in rumpled clothes, hair unkempt. Now, she was back to her polished self, her dresses ironed to perfection, jewelry gleaming.
Where did we get money for this?
I followed her inside, the unfamiliar space swallowing me whole.
I barely let her take off her coat before I blurted, "We're home now. Start talking."
She didn't respond immediately. Instead, she placed her hands firmly on my shoulders. "Let's go to the coffee table... it's about to be a lot."
The pit in my stomach grew.
She led me through the unknown corners of this massive house until we reached a small room. A sleek, square table sat in the center, surrounded by black cushioned chairs.
We sat across from each other.
I caught my reflection in the glossy surface of the table-brown curls hanging past my neck, thick overgrown eyebrows, light brown skin that looked... smooth but malnourished.
How do those two things even belong in the same sentence?
Mum exhaled slowly, looking straight into my eyes. "It's about to be a lot, Kai."
I forced a smile. "Hit me. It can't be that bad."
She hesitated. Then, she cleared her throat.
"But it is."
A pause.
Then, her voice, soft but final. "Your dad and I got divorced."
""You said what?" I was too stunned to speak.
I had asked about my father multiple times before, but she always said he was busy. I never pushed because, usually... he was.
We didn't have much money, so he worked constantly to make ends meet.
"It's a lot, I understand... If you want, you can take some time to process this, and we'll talk later."
She began to push away from the table.
I gently grabbed her hand. "How did it happen? Was it because of me? It has to be, right? You guys were crazy in love."
My eyes burned as they filled with tears. My body trembled, the air in the room suddenly thick and suffocating.
She squeezed my hand in return. "After you fell into the coma, I spent every day taking care of you. I never left your side. Your dad... he didn't like that. Admittedly, I neglected our marriage, but I had to take care of you."
I reeled back, collapsing deeper into my chair. "So it was me... but that can't be why you got divorced. No! That doesn't make sense!"
"Calm down, my love." She exhaled shakily, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "After a while, your father decided to sleep with his boss. His whore of a boss. Fortunately for me, I caught him red-handed. We tried to work things out-couples therapy and all-but it didn't help. In the end, we decided to just... end it."
I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting.
"So why didn't he come visit me? I haven't seen him at all..." My voice cracked. My face was hot, streaked with tears and mucus.
She shook her head. "I don't know. The divorce was clean-fifty-fifty, everything. He had every right to see you, but he didn't."
Her words hit me like a gut punch. This wasn't possible.
"Look, I think that's enough debriefing for today." Her voice softened. "I've already unloaded a lot on you. Why don't I show you to your room?"
I wanted to protest-I wanted to know more-but my body felt weak. The doctor had warned me I'd be exhausted, and with this storm of terrible news, I could barely stand.
She got up, pushing her chair back into place. I mirrored her movements, following as she led me through the sleek house.
"Can I at least ask one more thing?" I stopped behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder. "Sure, kiddo. As long as it's not too complicated."
"How did we afford this big, fancy house?"
For the first time in a while, my mother beamed. Through my recovery, she had seemed... better, but not quite happy. But now, as I asked that question, she looked full of joy.
"Well, once your dad and I divorced, I needed to make ends meet. I put my psychology degree to good use and got a job. A well-paying one at that."
She smiled at me. "Money isn't a problem anymore, my love."
I couldn't help but crack a small smile. "That's good."
She grinned as we turned a corner, stopping in front of black double doors.
Twisting the handles, she pushed them open, revealing a nearly empty room. The walls were painted gray, and in the center sat a white bed-nothing else.
She walked inside. "I didn't decorate it because I knew you'd enjoy doing that yourself."
I nodded. "Thanks, Mom... I better get some rest."
She kissed my forehead. "You've done nothing wrong. Don't ever think the divorce was your fault. Honestly, I'm happy it happened."
And with that, she walked away like the wind.
I stared at the empty doorway for a moment before slowly making my way to the bed. It was softer than the hospital one.
"I might not have had a hand in the divorce physically... but I was the reason, nonetheless. Why am I like this?"
The room was big and angular. I hated how it looked.
I had always hated the thought of angles and perfection. It wasn't that I enjoyed messy things-I just didn't like everything looking so well-placed, so artificial.
One side of the room was made of massive dark glass panels. I could see everything happening outside, but the outside couldn't see me. Cool, huh?
In the center of the room, my bed lay there, floating.
Who leaves a bed in the center of the room?
I'd fix it later.
I'd fix everything later....