Chapter 6: The Secret My Father Buried
I couldn't move.
I stared at the paper.
My father's name sat at the top of the page.
A hospital record.
Three months before the accident.
"What is this?"" I whispered.
Marcus looked at me carefully.
"It's another emergency incident.""
I shook my head.
"No.""
My voice was barely audible.
"I would remember.""
Marcus didn't argue.
Instead, he said:
"You were ten years old.""
Ten.
The age when memories were supposed to be simple.
Before adult secrets.
Before betrayal.
Before learning that people could smile while hurting you.
"What happened?"" Ethan asked.
Marcus looked at the document.
"Your father had a medical emergency at home.""
I looked at Ethan.
Then back at Marcus.
"And I was there?""
He nodded.
"You were the one who called for help.""
I closed my eyes.
A memory surfaced.
A dark kitchen.
My father sitting on the floor.
Me crying.
The phone shaking in my hand.
The operator telling me to stay calm.
I remembered.
But I had never considered it important.
Because nobody ever told me it was.
"I was just a kid," I whispered.
Marcus nodded.
"Exactly.""
He pointed at the record.
"Your quick response helped him get treatment in time.""
I looked at the papers.
"Did anyone know?""
Marcus hesitated.
"Your mother knew.""
I swallowed.
"What did she say?""
He smiled sadly.
"She said, 'That's Jenna. She always knows what to do when people need help.''"
The words hurt.
Because my mother had known me.
Really known me.
And after she died, nobody carried that truth forward.
They replaced it.
With silence.
With comparison.
With a version where I was never enough.
Ethan looked at the documents.
"Why would Felicity take credit for something like this?""
Marcus looked at him.
"Because some people learn early that attention feels like love.""
Nobody spoke.
The sentence stayed with me.
Because maybe that was the saddest part.
Felicity wasn't born cruel.
She became someone who needed to be the brightest person in every room.
Even if she had to turn off someone else's light.
I folded the papers.
"I need to talk to my father.""
Ethan looked concerned.
"Are you sure?""
"No.""
I looked out the window.
"But I need answers.""
My father lived in the same house where I grew up.
The same house where I learned to be quiet.
Where every hallway held a memory.
I stood at the front door for almost a minute before knocking.
He opened it.
And immediately looked afraid.
Not surprised.
Afraid.
"You found out.""
It wasn't a question.
I stepped inside.
"You knew.""
He closed the door.
"Jenna—"
"No.""
I held up the folder.
"You knew everything.""
He sat down.
Suddenly he looked much older.
"I made mistakes.""
I stared at him.
"That's what you call this?""
"What do you want me to say?""
"The truth.""
He looked away.
"I was trying to protect your sister.""
I laughed.
The sound was empty.
"From what?""
He didn't answer.
"From being ordinary?""
His silence confirmed it.
I walked further into the room.
"Do you know what you did?""
My father looked at me.
"You made me feel like I had to apologize for existing.""
His face changed.
A small crack appeared.
"I never wanted that.""
"But you allowed it.""
He lowered his eyes.
And that was the first time I saw him unable to defend himself.
"I thought Felicity needed confidence.""
"And I didn't?""
He looked up.
"You were always strong.""
The words should have comforted me.
They didn't.
Because I finally understood.
My strength had become an excuse.
Because everyone assumed the strong person didn't need protection.
Didn't need praise.
Didn't need anyone to choose them.
"You know what hurts most?"" I said.
He waited.
"Not Felicity.""
His eyes lifted.
"It's you.""
My father's expression broke.
"Jenna—"
"You were supposed to know me.""
The room was silent.
"I was your daughter.""
He wiped his face.
"I was wrong.""
I looked at him.
A simple apology.
After sixteen years.
And somehow it wasn't enough.
Because apologies could explain pain.
They couldn't erase it.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Hello?""
A woman's voice came through.
"Is this Jenna Carter?""
"Yes.""
"This is Dr. Rebecca Lane from Mercy Hospital.""
My heart tightened.
"Why are you calling me?""
There was a pause.
Then she said:
"Because I found something in your mother's old medical records.""
I gripped the phone.
"What kind of thing?""
Her voice became quieter.
"A document she asked the hospital to keep hidden until you were old enough to understand.""
I stopped breathing.
"Hidden from who?""
Another pause.
May you like
Then the doctor answered:
"Your father.""
