Chapter 2

A few weeks later, the first crack in my family' s perfect facade appeared, just as I remembered it would.

My father, David, started complaining of a dull ache in his chest. He' d rub the spot over his heart, his face pale, and grumble about indigestion.

"It' s just heartburn, Eleanor," he' d say dismissively when my mother would fuss over him.

In my first life, I had been worried. I begged him to see a doctor, but he and my mother brushed me off, calling me an alarmist. He ended up having a minor cardiac event that was made significantly worse by the delay in treatment.

This time, I knew exactly what was happening.

We were all in the living room. David was on his recliner, wincing. Eleanor was fluttering around him, offering him antacids. Liam was buried in his phone, completely oblivious.

I put down my book.

"Dad, that sounds serious," I said, keeping my voice level and calm. "Chest pain that radiates like that can be a sign of a heart problem. You should go to the emergency room, just to be safe."

David scowled at me.

"Don' t be so dramatic, Ava. It' s a little bit of gas."

Eleanor patted my arm, her touch light and condescending.

"Your father knows his own body, sweetie. You worry too much. It just gives everyone anxiety."

"She' s right," Liam muttered from the couch, not even looking up. "Always making a big deal out of nothing."

I looked from one to the other. The same script, the same dismissal. In my past life, I would have argued. I would have pleaded. I would have made myself sick with worry.

This time, I just shrugged.

"Okay," I said, and went back to my book.

If they wanted to be willfully ignorant, that was their choice. I would not set myself on fire to keep them warm. Not anymore.

Two days later, the inevitable happened.

I was in my room when I heard my mother' s shriek. I walked out to find my father slumped over in his recliner, gasping for breath, his face a ghastly shade of gray. Eleanor was hysterical, running in circles and wringing her hands.

"David! Oh my god, David! Somebody do something!"

Liam finally looked up from his phone, his eyes wide with panic.

"What' s happening? Dad?"

Eleanor spun around and her eyes, filled with tears and terror, landed on me.

"Call 911!" she screamed.

I calmly took out my phone and dialed, relaying the information to the dispatcher with a steady voice. While Eleanor continued to sob and Liam stood frozen, I went to the front door and unlocked it for the paramedics.

At the hospital, after David had been stabilized and admitted, Eleanor transformed. Her panic melted away and was replaced by a familiar, cloying victimhood. She sat in the waiting room, dabbing at her dry eyes with a tissue, speaking in a soft, trembling voice to anyone who would listen.

"I just don' t know what happened," she' d whisper. "It came on so suddenly. I told him to take it easy, but he just works so hard for this family."

When the doctor came out to speak with us, he was stern.

"He' s stable, but he' s lucky. The damage to his heart would have been minimal if he' d come in when the symptoms started. Why did he wait so long?"

Eleanor' s head whipped around to face me, her eyes narrowing. The other family members who had gathered, my aunt and uncle, followed her gaze.

The blame settled on me like a heavy shroud.

"Ava knew," Eleanor said, her voice breaking with faux betrayal. "She said he should go to the hospital two days ago. But she didn't insist. She just… let it go. She just sat there and read her book."

Liam, ever her loyal soldier, jumped in.

"Yeah, I heard her. She said it once and then just dropped it. If she was really so concerned, why didn' t she do more? She just doesn' t care about anyone but herself."

My aunt put a comforting arm around Eleanor. "Oh, you can' t blame yourself, Eleanor. You have enough to worry about."

I stood there, watching the performance. They were rewriting history in real-time, painting me as the cold, uncaring daughter who watched her father suffer. They ignored the fact that they had actively mocked my concern. It was breathtaking in its audacity.

I felt a cold, clear calm settle over me. This was who they were. This pattern of neglect, disaster, and blame was the engine that powered their lives. And I was done being its fuel.

I decided, in that sterile, fluorescent-lit hospital waiting room, that I would no longer interfere. Let them make their own beds. Let them lie in the messes they created.

To stop the pointless argument, I played the part they assigned me.

I looked at the floor and mumbled, "You' re right. I' m sorry. I should have pushed him harder."

Eleanor' s face softened, triumphant. Liam grunted, satisfied. They had their scapegoat.

I excused myself, saying I needed some air. I walked down the long hospital corridor and stepped out into the cool night. I leaned against the brick wall and took a deep breath.

A small, dark smile touched my lips.

They were so busy pointing fingers at me, they hadn't even started to think about the hospital bills. David didn' t have great insurance. His recovery would be long and expensive. And I, the one with a part-time job and a growing savings account they knew nothing about, would not be contributing a single cent.

Let them figure it out. A little taste of the consequences was exactly what they deserved.