I Was Trapped In An Elevator On My Birthday, But No One Cared Chapter 10

I Was Trapped In An Elevator On My Birthday, But No One Cared Chapter 10

I wasn’t moved.

Late-stage clarity is just another form of late-stage damage.

I said, “You should go back.”

My dad started to panic. “Mira.”

“I have work.”

I turned and walked toward the apartment.

After a few steps, I stopped. “Don’t come here again. I’m good here. Without you, I’m really good.”

They didn’t leave Sunnyside right away.

For three days in a row, my mom waited for me outside the office. She brought breakfast, fruit, even a thick coat, saying the rain in Sunnyside was cold. I never took any of it.

On the fourth day, security recognized her and gently told her not to disrupt the workplace.

She stood there in the rain, looking completely lost, like a stray.

A coworker asked if I wanted to go out and see her. I shook my head. “No.”

It wasn’t cruelty. I knew too well that if I cracked that door open even an inch, I’d slide right back onto the old path. I was terrified I’d go soft. Even more terrified that after going soft, I’d get shoved right back into that

corner again.

Julian hadn’t left either. He emailed me every day.

The first one was a long apology. The second rehashed every moment of our three years together. The third said he was keeping his distance from Serena. The fourth said he’d started seeing a therapist and finally understood he’d just been enjoying my endless patience.

I read them all. I didn’t reply to a single one. Whatever he was feeling had nothing to do with me anymore.

A month later, my mom got sick.

Nothing serious. Just prolonged anxiety and lack of sleep, and she collapsed at home.

My dad called from an unknown number. When I picked up, his voice was wrecked. “Mira, your mom’s in the

hospital. She keeps calling your name.”

I stood in the office stairwell, holding my phone. The sun was bright outside.

I asked, “Is it serious?”

He probably thought I was relenting, because he immediately said, “The doctor says it’s nothing major, but

her spirits are really low. Mira, please come see her. Dad is begging you.”

I stayed quiet for a moment. “If it’s nothing major, then let her rest.”

My dad’s voice cracked with desperation. “How can you be this cold?”

The second he said it, he froze. I think he remembered all the times they’d said something similar to me

when I was the one hurting.

When my stomach hurt so badly I couldn’t stand straight, my mom said, “Oh, stop being so dramatic. Serena has her big competition today-that’s way more stressful than your stomachache.”

When my fever hit 104, my dad said, “You’re old enough. Take yourself to the hospital.”

When I was trapped in that elevator for an hour, they said, “You’re fine, aren’t you?”

Now the pain was theirs, and they were finally discovering that I was heartless.

I said softly, “Dad, I’m just practicing what you both taught me. Be mature. Don’t be a burden to other people.”