Chapter 17 - DANTE’S WORST REALIZATIONRosalie learned the truth from a conversation she was not meant to hear.
Dante and Dr. Sloan were in the library.
Rosalie approached quietly in her wheelchair.
She heard:
“Missing opportunities.”
Then:
“Earlier rehabilitation.”
Then:
“We can’t know how much function she might have retained.”
Rosalie stopped.
Dante saw her.
His face changed.
“Rosalie.”
She entered.
“What does that mean?”
He stood.
“Nothing definite.”
“Don’t.”
Her voice trembled.
“Don’t do that thing adults do.”
“What thing?”
“Make words smaller because you think I’m a kid.”
Dante sat.
She wheeled closer.
“Tell me.”
So he did.
Not everything.
Enough.
Doctors had wanted follow-up.
Victor blocked some.
Information was withheld.
No one knew whether earlier treatment would have changed her condition.
Rosalie stared.
Then cried.
Quietly.
Dante knelt.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked at him.
“Did you know?”
“No.”
“Did you stop looking?”
His face crumpled.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought every new doctor was hurting you.”
“I hated them.”
“I know.”
“I hated tests.”
“I know.”
“But I hated the wheelchair more.”
Dante closed his eyes.
“I know.”
Rosalie’s voice broke.
“I told you I could feel things.”
“I know.”
“Why didn’t you believe me?”
There it was.
The wound.
Not Victor.
Not doctors.
Her father.
Dante whispered:
“I believed them more.”
Rosalie looked away.
He did not defend himself.
No excuses.
No “I was protecting you.”
Not this time.
“I was wrong.”
She cried harder.
Dante let her.
Then Rosalie wiped her face.
“You believe me now?”
“Yes.”
“No matter what?”
Dante hesitated.
Then understood.
Not blind belief.
Respect.
“I will listen now.”
May you like
Rosalie nodded.
“That’s better.”
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