She had stopped believing in luck.
Because the one time it chose her,
it abandoned her mother.
That day still plays on loop in her mind—
every turn, every second, every breath.
She had told her mom, "Let's take the shortcut."
They were late.
And it wasn't unusual—they'd taken that mountain road a hundred times before.
But that day… was different.
They laughed as the wind brushed past them,
she even held her mom a little tighter and smiled,
thinking how this road, though steep and twisted, always felt like freedom.
Until—
the brakes gave up.
And time… stopped.
She remembers the chaos.
The screech.
The tumble.
The cold silence that followed.
And then… the blood.
She was thrown to the side—barely scratched.
Lucky, the doctors said.
But what kind of luck leaves your mother unconscious,
her body broken, her eyes closed for four years.?
What kind of luck makes your own family look at you like you are poison?
The news spread faster than the sirens.
And before she could even process the pain,
they had already decided—
"It was her fault."
"She insisted on the shortcut."
"She brought this upon them."
And the worst part?
She didn't argue.
Because deep down…
she agreed.
She hated that voice inside her that whispered—
"If you hadn't spoken that day…"
"If you had just waited five more minutes…"
And the most terrifying thought of all?
That maybe… even her mom, if she ever wakes up,
will look at her with those same eyes.
The eyes that once held love… might now only hold blame.
That fear kept her away more than any family member ever could.
So she lived with it.
Not just the pain.
But the weight of a single word—
Shortcut.
A word that once meant convenience…
now echoed like a curse.