My Family Left Me on Read So I Disappeared Forever Chapter 09

My Family Left Me on Read So I Disappeared Forever Chapter 09

The day I was discharged, the sky was overcast.

Dr. Morgan pushed my wheelchair while Megan walked beside us carrying my belongings. No one else had come to pick me up.

Mom had already gone back to her hometown. Before leaving, she asked a nurse to give me a note.

[Evie, I’ve spent my whole life caring too much about appearances. Please don’t hate me.]

I stared at it for a long time before folding it and slipping it into my pocket.

I didn’t throw it away, but I didn’t send her a response either.

Some things couldn’t be resolved with a note.

After leaving the hospital, I stayed with Megan for two months while I recovered and prepared for the custody hearing.

Dr. Morgan prepared a detailed medical summary and provided copies of my treatment records, while Megan helped me find an attorney.

On the day of the hearing, I went to court in a wheelchair. The cast was still on my leg.

Ethan sat at the other counsel table in a crisp suit and tie, with his attorney beside him.

His attorney spoke first.

“The petitioner was recently diagnosed with severe postpartum depression and survived a suicide attempt.”

“Given her current condition, she isn’t presently capable of serving as the child’s primary custodial parent.”

“The respondent has stable employment and income, as well as a suitable home environment. His mother is also willing to assist with childcare.”

My attorney rose.

“We have submitted three categories of evidence concerning the petitioner’s condition.”

“First, the records from the petitioner’s postpartum home visit.”

“Those records show that an urgent mental-health evaluation was recommended on the forty-third day after she gave birth.”

“The petitioner didn’t cancel that appointment. Her mother called the clinic and canceled it without her knowledge.”

“Second, we submitted the petitioner’s medical records for the first 107 days after childbirth.”

“There is no record of her receiving any treatment during that period. For more than three months after she gave birth, not one member of her family helped her obtain mental-health treatment.”

“Third, we submitted the complete message history from the petitioner’s phone.”

“The records show that, before her suicide attempt, she reached out to several relatives for help.”

“At the same time, her mother was falsely telling relatives in the family group that that the petitioner was violent.”

The courtroom fell silent for a moment before my attorney continued.

“The petitioner’s condition didn’t deteriorate because she was an unfit mother.”

“The opposite is true. In what she believed were the final moments of her life, everything she wrote was about her child.”

“Which formula to use. When his six-month vaccination appointment was due. How to comfort him and cover his ears when it thundered.”

“A mother who spent what she believed were her final moments worrying about whether her child was frightened or uncomfortable had never failed to love him.”

“Everyone around her repeatedly told her that she was unfit to be a mother Eventually, she began to believe them.”

I sat in my wheelchair as tears streamed down my face. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop them.

The judge looked at me, then turned toward Ethan.

He had kept his head lowered throughout the hearing.

His attorney started to speak again, but Ethan raised a hand to stop him.

“That’s enough.”

His voice was low.

“I won’t oppose her request for primary physical custody.”

His attorney immediately leaned toward him.

“Mr. Whitmore…”

“I understand what I’m agreeing to. I won’t fight her for it.”

Ethan finally raised his head and looked at me.

It was the first time in a long while that he had truly seen me.

There was no impatience in his eyes and no irritated frown. He simply looked at me in silence.

After a moment, he turned away.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was so quiet that I wasn’t even sure I had heard him correctly.

After confirming that Ethan understood the consequences, the judge approved the arrangement. I would receive primary physical custody once I had suitable housing and continued outpatient treatment.

When we left the courthouse, the sky was still gray, but it hadn’t begun to rain.

Megan pushed my wheelchair slowly down the courthouse ramp.

“We won,” she said.

I nodded.

The wind blew against my face as I took Mom’s note from my pocket and read it again.

[Evie, I’ve spent my whole life caring too much about appearances.

Please don’t hate me.]

I folded it carefully and returned it to my pocket.

I didn’t know whether I should hate her.

Maybe someday I would have an answer.

But not today.