I Will Love Myself Chapter 03
I woke to the sharp smell of disinfectant. The white ceiling came into focus.
Sitting beside my bed was my forty-two-year-old self.
I frowned and looked past her, searching the doorway.
She snickered and said, “Stop looking. They didn’t come.”
My chest tightened, and my head snapped toward her.
She held my gaze. “Did you forget? Rach bombed her SAT. They took her to sign up for that top prep program first thing this morning.”
“No way!” I blurted out.
That place was only two bus stops from home. I’d gone into anaphylactic shock. How could they leave me behind?
She just pointed at my phone on the table. “Check it yourself.”
It was Rachel’s old phone. The screen lagged, and I had to tap it a few times before the chat opened.
Mom’s last message was around eight, probably right after I was admitted.
It was short. “We’re getting Rach signed up today. It’s important, and we can’t step out.”
“I had someone take you to the hospital. Take a taxi home when you’re okay. Be careful.”
I sat there, frozen. Tears filled my eyes until the older me and the wall became one pale blur.
That was when it finally sank in. Even with my life on the line, Rachel came first.
The older me watched me for a few seconds. “Believe me now?”
I shoved the blanket off and stood without a word.
The doctor said something behind me, but it didn’t register.
I stumbled out the door, and she followed. “It took me thirty‑eight years to accept that Mom and Dad didn’t love me.
After that, things get easier. When they give you less, you give less back. You just put more into yourself.
It’s not too late to get that.”
Before I knew it, I was back home.
The second I opened the door, the same old arguing hit me.
“You knew she can’t eat seafood, and you still made it!
We wasted time calling that delivery guy and missed registration. What now?” Dad snapped.
“I was worried about the registration, so I grabbed whatever was in the freezer.” Mom shot back.
“You’re her father. Why didn’t you cook something? You just blame me for everything.”
I stood in the entryway and watched them.
They kept going until Mom finally ran out of breath.
The living room was a mess. The beef I bought yesterday was still by the sink, starting to smell.
Mom turned, frowning as she saw me. “Elle, you’re back.”
She hesitated, then glanced at Dad. He looked away.
“Because of your allergic reaction, we missed the deadline for the prep program,” she continued.
“So Rach is taking a year before she applies. We’re moving her to New York tomorrow. The best programs and tutors are there. This town can only take her so far. We can’t let her miss this.”
“What about me?” I asked, my voice breaking.
“Elle, you’re eighteen. I’m sure you can take care of yourself,” she said, avoiding my eyes.
With that, she turned back and started packing.
I stood there, cold from the inside out.
They weren’t here to talk this out. It was already decided.
A few minutes later, the three of them were by the door, ready to go.
Dad pulled out his wallet, counted off 200 dollars, and set it on my desk. “Here. Grab something to eat. Don’t worry about the money.”
Mom tugged his arm before I could even respond. “Come on, we’re running late. Let’s go.”
I stayed in the living room for a long time, the money still in my hand.
Only then did I admit it.
Mom and Dad didn’t love me.
Not the way they loved my sister.
In their world, Rachel always came first.
She was ahead of me in everything—from meals at home to how fruit was split, to every plan for the family’s future.
My phone buzzed with a message from my forty-two-year-old self. “Pack your things. I’ll take you to your new school.”