She left out the hospital.
People congratulated her on the degree and told her to protect her peace.
I wanted to write beneath every comment.
Instead, I saved screenshots and called her.
She answered with, “Are you ready to apologize?”
“Take the post down.”
“Why? Worried people will find out what you’re like?”
“You earned your degree. I never disputed that. But you called me from your party to mock me while Maya was in surgery.”
“I didn’t say it like that.”
“You said nobody wanted another dramatic story from me.”
“You’ve always had a way of making people feel guilty.”
I leaned against the wall outside the rehabilitation consultation room.
“Did you know I paid for the party?”
She didn’t answer.
“Chloe.”
“Mom said you helped.”
“How much did you think I helped?”
Another silence.
Then she said, “If you could afford all this, why did you let us think you were struggling?”
