Bitter Truth

"Good morning."

A uniform nurse, likely in her mid-forties, walked into the room with precise movements. Her hair was neatly tied back, and her name tag read "Dora," but her eyes held a weariness that spoke of long shifts and countless worried patients.

Stephanie barely turned her head as Dora reached for her IV, adjusting the flow with practiced ease.

Dora spared Stephanie a quick glance, "How are you feeling?" She asked, her voice a gentle murmur in the quiet room.

Stephanie's lips parted slightly, "I feel pain like my ribs are protesting." She muttered, shifting slightly before she grimaced.

The nurse hummed. "That's normal. You will be fine in a few days. But you're lucky there were no fractures."

Lucky.

Stephanie wasn't sure if that was the right word. The accident had shaken her to her core, leaving her with a sense of vulnerability she hadn't known before.

As Dora finished checking her vitals, Stephanie cleared her throat, the sound a little strained. "By the way… my phone. Do you know where it is?"

Dora paused, her well-trimmed brows furrowing slightly. Then, a soft smile touched her lips. "Oh, right. It was with your personal belongings when you were admitted. Let me get it for you."

She stepped out for a moment, returning with a small plastic bag containing Stephanie's phone and a few other items. "Here. It was switched off."

Stephanie took it, "Thank you," she muttered.

Holding the phone, she powers it on, watching as the screen comes to life. A wave of relief washed over her. The phone was like a lifeline to the world outside these sterile walls.

Her phone buzzed constantly as a flood of notifications appeared, but before she could process them,

Ring-Ring!

The phone vibrates in her hand.

Incoming Call: 'Aunt Lucy'

The name brought a familiar knot of tension to Stephanie's stomach. She hesitated before answering.

"Stephanie! Finally, you picked up. How are you, dear?" Aunty Lucy's voice a blend of concern and forced cheer filled the room.

Stephanie forced a small smile, though her voice lacked enthusiasm. "I'm fine, Aunt." the words felt hollow, even her ribs seemed to object, sending another wave of throbbing pain, she winced.

"Good, good! Listen, we're having a family gathering this weekend. Everyone will be there! You should come. It's been ages since we all got together."

Stephanie pressed her fingers to her temple. A family gathering? Now?

Aunt Lucy continued, her voice a little too enthusiastic and loud. "Oh, and guess what? Your cousin Vera just landed a major job abroad! Isn't that wonderful? Such a bright girl."

Stephanie clenched her jaw, her grip on the phone tightening. **Typical Aunt Lucy. Always showing off Vera's achievements, a constant reminder of my own perceived failures.

"Your grandma will be there too, of course. She'd love to see you. It's been too long, sweetheart."

Grandma?

The one person she didn't mind seeing. But the rest?

Stephanie sighed deeply, torn between avoiding the gathering and knowing she can't escape family obligations forever.

The thought of facing her relatives, their intrusive questions, and judgemental glances, filled her with dread she couldn't shake off. She knew all too well their intended meaning.

She ran a hand through her tangled hair. She knew what her aunt really meant "It would be embarrassing if you didn't show up. People will talk."

She pressed her lips together, her gaze falling on the stiff folds of her hospital gown.

The last time she attended one of these, it had been different. She had arrived on the arm of her fiancé, their future bright and promising.

Now?

She would be walking in alone.

Stephanie swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing a smile, "I'll think about it."

Aunt Lucy chuckled. "Good girl. I'll tell everyone to expect you."

Click. Call ended.

Stephanie stared at the screen, the faint glow reflecting in her tired eyes.

So much for thinking about it.

The decision, as always, felt like a burden she was forced to carry. She sighed, a heavy, weary sound that echoed the weight of her anxieties.

******

Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up, ignoring the dull ache spreading through her body.

"When can I leave?" she asked, her voice firmer than she felt.

Dora replied smoothly while tightening the strap around Stephanie's wrist. "My dear, that's a question only your attending doctor can answer,"

Not the answer Stephanie wanted. She wished to leave as soon as possible.

"He'll check on you later today," Dora continued, stepping back with professional ease. "If everything looks good, it won't be long."

She sighed, leaning back against the pillows. Hospitals made her restless. Everything was too perfect, too clean, too much like a waiting room for bad news.

Her thoughts wandered, but a soft knock at the door pulled her back.

A young woman, in her twenties, draped in corporate clothing with a heavy flask in both hands stood at the doorway. Her sweet-honey eyes were wide and expressive, conveying a dramatic outpouring of emotion. Her cheeks were flushed, enhancing the already dramatic effect of her expression. A slight knowing smile tugged at her lips.

Mirabel.

******

Her trimmed dark brows furrowed as she strode toward the sofa bed, eyes scanning Stephanie like a disappointed older sister.

"What have you done to yourself, Steph? You look pitiful." She commented, her words came out with a huff, but laced with concern.

She set the flask on the bedside desk with a soft thud, her golden curls bounced slightly as she shook her head.

"I swear, your mom should run a restaurant with the way she insists on feeding people."

"She made sure you eat before rushing to work. You know how she gets."

Stephanie let out a slow smile, already knowing.

"Of course she did," she murmured, glancing at the flask as if it held a challenge.

Mirabel pulled up a chair, her gaze sweeping over Stephanie, taking in the IV, the hospital gown, the dark circles underneath her eyes.

"You look awful," she said, though her tone was gentle.

Stephanie huffed a tired chuckle. "Thanks. Exactly what I needed to hear."

*********

Stephanie stirred the spoon in her bowl absentmindedly, her appetite battling with the storm inside her. The warm aroma should have been comforting, but she had no desire to eat.

"I don't even know what hurts more," she muttered, her voice raw. "The fact that he did this or the fact that I trusted him so blindly."

Mirabel sat across from her, arms folded. She let the silence linger for a moment before saying, carefully, "Steph, think about it... Maybe this wasn't the first time. You think he just suddenly woke up and cheated?"

Stephanie's grip on the spoon tightened. A slow dread settled in her chest.

Mirabel sighed, leaning forward slightly. "I ran into Sarah a few days ago. Shopping like a queen."

A pause. Then, she continued in a lower voice, "And guess what? She wasn't alone."

Stephanie stilled. She didn't ask. She didn't need to. The implications was painfully clear.

The knot in her stomach tightened, but it had nothing to do with the food.

********

Stephanie stared at the bowl in front of her, but the food had lost all taste. Her chest aches so much.

Julian had always been her perfect man.

"He promised me forever," she whispered, almost to herself.

Mirabel's gaze softened, but she didn't interrupt.

"He said he would wait for me. That it didn't matter if I was rich or poor, happy or broken—he would love me the same." Stephanie let out a shaky breath, her fingers curling into the sheets. "But it was all just words, wasn't it?"

Mirabel sighed, her voice calm but firm. "Steph, men like him... they say what they need to say. Not because they mean it, but because it's what you want to hear."

The truth settled in like a bitter pill. Stephanie swallowed hard. Every late-night promise and whispered assurance had all been a carefully planned illusion.

She let out a slow breath, blinking against the sting in her eyes. "I was holding onto a fantasy, wasn't I?"

Mirabel didn't answer. She didn't need to.

And for the first time, Stephanie saw it for what it was.

*******

Mirabel closed the flask, giving Stephanie a long, knowing look.

"I spoke to your boss," she said, adjusting the strap of her bag. "You don't have to worry about work. I requested leave on your behalf."

Stephanie blinked. "You didn't have to—"

"I did," Mirabel cut in gently. "Because right now, you need to focus on yourself."

Stephanie sighed, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the sheets.

Mirabel hesitated at the door, then said, "Look, I know this feels like the end, but it's not. You need to decide what comes next, Steph. Because this? This isn't the end of your story."

Her words lingered in the quiet room long after she walked out.

********