“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.”
My dad’s jaw clenched.
“I know enough,” I said. “I know he’d do it for me.”
She folded her hands. “Then this is your choice. If you stay with him, you do it without our support. Financial or otherwise.”
I stared at her. “You’d really cut off your only child for not dumping her injured boyfriend?”
My dad’s jaw clenched.
The next day, my college fund was gone.
“We are not going to fund you throwing your life away.”
The fight went in circles.
I yelled. I cried. They stayed calm and cruel.
In the end, my mom said, “Him or us.”
My voice shook, but I said, “Him.”
So I packed a duffel bag.
The next day, my college fund was gone. The account had been emptied.
