“Sit,” my mom said.
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I sat.
“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 interrupted.
“You can find someone healthy.”
I blinked. “What?”
“You are 17,” she said. “You have a real future. Law school. A career. You cannot tie yourself to… this.”
“To what?” I snapped. “To my boyfriend who just got paralyzed?”
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My dad leaned forward.
“I know he’d do it for me.”
“You’re young,” he said. “You can find someone healthy. Successful. Don’t ruin your life.”
I laughed because I thought they had to be joking.
“I love him,” I said. “I loved him before the accident. I’m not walking away because his legs don’t work.”
My mom’s eyes went flat. “Love doesn’t pay the bills. Love won’t lift him into a wheelchair. You have no idea what you’re signing up for.”
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My dad’s jaw tightened.
“I know enough,” I said. “I know he’d do it for me.”
She folded her hands together. “Then this is your decision. If you stay with him, you do it without our support. Financial or otherwise.”
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