The App That Failed, The Love That Never Was Chapter 03

The App That Failed, The Love That Never Was Chapter 03

At my follow-up appointment the next day, my doctor scanned my lab reports, his frown deepening. “Beyond chronic malnutrition, you have stress-induced gastritis. This condition can turn serious. Are your parents aware?”

They weren’t. And I was fairly certain they didn’t care.

Growing up, even a tiny cough from Sylvie sent Dad rushing her to the hospital for a full workup. Mom would hover over her the whole time, pressing a heating pad to keep her comfortable.

Meanwhile, when crippling stomach pain left me curled on the couch, drenched in sweat, they would only tsk and shake their heads. “You’re just being dramatic.”

Even a doctor I’d just met showed me more genuine concern than my own family.

“They’re busy,” I forced a weak smile, then headed off to pick up my prescriptions.

On the second floor, in the outpatient clinic, I bumped into my parents waiting alongside Sylvie for her physical results.

The nurse held Sylvie’s report, all smiles. “Mr. and Mrs. Carter, your daughter’s health is excellent. Every marker looks great. You two clearly take wonderful care of her.”

Mom glowed with pride. “Yes, I plan every single one of her meals around strict nutritional guidelines.”

Dad stroked Sylvie’s hair fondly. “Her multivitamins are specially imported from Europe. You can’t buy them domestically.”

I glanced down at my own medical report. My chest tightened until breathing felt heavy.

Under the same roof, one child was cultivated like a prize orchid, while the other was left to wither.

Sylvie turned and spotted me, eyes widening in surprise.

Dad’s smile vanished instantly. “What are you doing here?”

Revulsion flashed across his face, and my throat went tight. “Picking up medication.”

Mom pulled Sylvie behind her, as if I had something contagious that might infect her precious youngest daughter.

“It’s just nothing serious. Why don’t you just get some OTC meds at a pharmacy?”

Nothing serious? A surgical cut in my abdomen was minor?

I lifted my medical paperwork to explain my follow-up, but Dad waved me off impatiently. “We’re taking Sylvie to the hospital café for breakfast. Stop loitering at the hospital and get back home.”

They walked away hand-in-hand with Sylvie.

Right then my doctor called my phone. “We still need a parental signature for your insurance authorization. Please have them come by as soon as you can.”

I watched my parents move farther away. I tried to go after them, but a sharp pain shot through my incision. My legs gave out and I sank to the floor.

I had no choice but to dial Dad. “Dad, the hospital needs you to sign some paperwork—”

Dad halted in the distance, not bothering to turn around. “Did you submit a booking request?”

My throat seized. No words would come out.

Dad said coldly. “No booking, you get no right to make demands.”

Mom’s voice cut in sharply. “Nalani, how many times do we need to drill this into you? Our time isn’t yours for the taking.”

I gripped my phone so tight my knuckles whitened, fighting to steady my voice. “The registration desk is on the third floor. It will only take a couple minutes of your time.”

“Not even a couple minutes!” Mom snapped irritably. “The booking system is non-negotiable. No exceptions for anybody!”

The call went dead. I watched them step onto the escalator with Sylvie.

All the fight left my body. My hands went limp; my papers scattered across the tile floor.

They were getting breakfast on the third floor. The signature desk was also on the third floor. It would have taken just a few steps. Yet they would not spare me even that.

Shaking, I rescheduled my flight for early the next morning. I called my advisor and told her I wanted to move into campus housing ahead of schedule.

She agreed right away, then hesitated. “Nalani… won’t you spend a little more time with your family before you leave?”

I bit hard into my lower lip, holding back the sobs rising in my throat.

There was nothing for me here. Every extra second under this roof suffocated me.