Chapter 3 Not what she was expecting

Elisa was discharged the following day.

Her mother came to pick her up alone-her father didn't come. Two tall, broad men dressed in black suits and dark sunglasses stood quietly at the door while she got ready. They didn't smile. They didn't speak. They just stood there, like shadows. They looked like bodyguards, and their presence made her uneasy.

Her mother brought clothes for her to wear: a light floral gown with thin straps, simple sandals, a pair of sunglasses, and a scarf. The scarf, she quickly realized, was meant to cover part of her face.

When she stepped out of the hospital building, she understood why.

The crowd outside was overwhelming. Dozens of people with cameras crowded the entrance. Flashes went off from every angle. Reporters shouted her name, trying to get her attention.

The lights were blinding. She couldn't see where she was walking. The lights made her squint even through the sunglasses, and her ears were buzzing from the noise. Panic started to rise in her chest, but the bodyguards quickly surrounded her and guided her toward a black SUV parked near the curb.

One of the men opened the back door for her, and she got in without looking back. Her mother slid in beside her. The door shut, and the car pulled away.

Elisa let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. She leaned back against the seat, feeling dazed. The windows were tinted, but she could still see people outside chasing after the car, trying to get one last photo.

She turned to look at her mother, who was sitting straight, her posture calm and collected as if nothing unusual had happened. "Who were those people? Why were they waiting for me?"

Her mother gave her a small smile. "You're Elisa Mancini. Daughter of Patrick Mancini. Fiancée of Stefano Bellucci. Those names mean a lot in Chicago. Of course people want to see you, especially after the accident."

Elisa looked out the window again, watching the city blur by. "Is it always like that?"

"I'm sure it felt overwhelming, especially with your memory loss. But you'll get used to it."

"I don't think I want to get used to it."

Her mother chuckled softly. "Funny. You used to love the attention. You were the paparazzi's favorite. A true socialite."

Elisa fell quiet for a moment before asking, "What exactly do you and father do?"

Her mother paused before answering. "Your father is a politician. He also oversees the family business."

"And you?"

"I'm a housewife. I dedicated my life to raising you and supporting your father."

Elisa nodded slowly. "Do I have any siblings?"

Her mother shook her head. "No, you don't. You're our only child. Why are you asking?"

She shrugged. "Just curious. It's just that.... No one visited me in the hospital. Aside from you and Father." Elisa hesitated. " Don't I have friends."

"You do have friends," her mother said carefully. "But not many close ones."

"Did they ask about me?"

"They did."

"Then why didn't any of them come?"

"You haven't been awake very long."

"I've been awake for over 24 hours," Elisa pointed out. "Anyone who cared could've dropped by."

"Maybe they're busy."

"Too busy to visit someone who almost died?"

Her mother sighed. "Elisa, in our circles, friendships don't work the way you think. There are no real friends. Just people in the same social class. There isn't necessarily any form of emotion attached."

Elisa frowned. "Then what's the point? Why call them friends if no one really cares?"

"They're just people you go out with. People who appear with you in public. That's how it works."

There was another pause. Elisa looked down at her hands. She hated the silence. Then she finally asked what she'd been avoiding.

"What about my fiancé?"

Her mother gave her a side glance. "What about him?"

"He never came to visit."

"He's a very busy man."

"Too busy for the woman he's marrying in three days?" Elisa asked, watching her mother closely.

"I'm sure he has his reasons." Her mother replied, her voice thinner now.

"I don't want to marry him," Elisa said quietly, but firmly. She looked at her mother now, hoping to find softness there. Maybe she could reason with her. "Please, can we delay it? Just for a while? I don't even remember him. He's a stranger to me."

Her mother didn't respond right away. There was a long pause. Her mother's expression didn't change, but her fingers tightened slightly on the edge of her bag.

"You want to marry him," she said finally. "You just don't remember that right now."

"Then shouldn't we wait until I do remember? Elisa pressed. "This man is practically a stranger to me. I don't know anything about him. I don't even know what he looks like."

"That can be fixed. Once we get home, I'll show you photos, videos, anything you need. I'll gather all the files. Anything you need to know more about him."

Elisa looked at her, trying one more time. She softened her voice. "Mum..."

The word made her mother go still. It wasn't the reaction Elisa had expected. Her mother's face froze for a second, like a switch had flipped. She stared straight ahead.

"I... I'm sorry," Elisa said quickly.

Her mother turned to her, her voice cooler now. "I prefer to be called 'Mother.' That's what you've always called me. Anything else just feels... strange."

Elisa swallowed hard. Her chest felt tight.

"I'm just saying," she whispered, "if he really cared about me, even a little, he would've visited. I've been in a coma for two weeks. That's not nothing. He didn't even bother to see if I was alive."

"He was updated on your progress. There was no need for him to come himself. Like I said before,Mr Bellucci is a very busy man."

Elisa opened her mouth probably to argue again but her mother stopped her.

" Enough. I am tired of you acting like a child. There is no need for all these protests. It has already been decided on. There's nothing you can do to change it."

And like that, all thoughts of her having a mother-daughter bonding with this woman flew out of the window.

She stared at her mother, who had turned back to her window, a clear indication of her wish to not continue the topic. She wondered what relationship she previously had with her parents.