The Day My Father Demanded the Impossible — And My Mother Finally Found Her Voice

When I woke up in the hospital after the accident, I thought the worst was over. My legs were broken in multiple places, each one wrapped in thick white casts that made even the smallest movement feel like a mountain to climb. But I was alive — and that was enough.

Three days passed under the cold glare of fluorescent lights. Nurses came and went. Machines beeped softly beside me. I was exhausted but grateful to still be breathing.

Then my parents walked in.

And that’s when I learned that the crash wasn’t the most painful thing I would face.

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