Lying there, I realized this wasn’t just a car crash. It was a breaking point. And maybe, finally, that was exactly what I needed.

By nightfall, the hospital had become a strange sanctuary. A nurse dimmed the lights and asked again, “Is your family coming?”

“No,” I said, the single word a quiet declaration of a newfound truth.

I reached for my phone, my hand steadier now, and scrolled past my father and sister. I tapped on the name Eliza Grant, a lawyer I’d worked with years ago. She was calm, competent, and most importantly, she didn’t treat me like I was overreacting.