Claudia's voice was unsteady as she dredged up the past. Every memory was a scar, one she would never forget.
Her every word felt like a stab to the chest, driving deeper into York's heart.
Ignoring the searing pain in his side, York struggled to sit up and shuffled to the edge of the hospital bed.
He reached out carefully and took her arm. His eyes were bloodshot as he pleaded in the softest voice he could manage, "I was wrong before. I swear it will never happen again. Can't we just forget about it?"
Forget?
Claudia let out a cold laugh and yanked her arm free.
"If you were in my shoes," she asked, "could you forget?"
York clenched his jaw, using his hands to prop himself up on the edge of the bed.
He looked her in the eye. "Claudia, believe it or not, the only reason I said those things back then was because I knew you were a good daughter. I knew you wouldn't do anything foolish. That's why I—"
He swallowed hard, and his voice trailed off.
"So, you still think that as long as I didn't die, it didn't matter how hurt I was?" Claudia countered. "You ignored my needs, dismissed my emotions, and this is what you call admitting you were wrong?"
York fell silent, deflated. He had no answer.
The ugly past was a chasm between them, a gap too wide for him to cross.
Claudia's tone softened slightly. "York, the only reason I brought you to the hospital was to avoid trouble for myself. Your family, the Fergusons, young or old, you all terrify me. I'm begging you, just leave me alone, please?"
Losing his composure, York ignored the tearing pain in his wound and swung his legs off the bed.
He blocked her path, towering over her and locking his gaze on her expression.
"I'm hurt," he explained, his voice strained. "I just wanted you to take care of me, to stay with me for a bit. I didn't mean to make things difficult for you."


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