I went home numb.
And my parents were waiting at the kitchen table like they were about to negotiate a deal.
“Sit,” my mother said.
I sat because I was too stunned to argue.
“He was in an accident,” I said. “He can’t walk. I’m going to be at the hospital as much as—”
“This is not what you need,” she cut in, clean and cold.
I blinked. “What?”
“You’re seventeen,” she said. “You have a real future. Law school. A career. You cannot tie yourself to… this.”