As I sat at the dinner table with my parents, Papa posed the question that caught me off guard, "Do you want to visit him, daughter?" The mere mention of Zach sent my mind spiraling and a warm flush rose to my cheeks. "I don't want to see him anymore, Pa," I answered, unable to hide the bitterness in my voice. Mama and Papa exchanged a concerned look, aware of the tension between Zach and I. "God knows how much I hate him..." "His grandfather, daughter," Papa corrected me gently, a hint of amusement in his voice as Mama let out a small laugh. "We were asking if you wanted to visit him in the hospital, daughter." My words had made me feel ashamed, and I struggled to meet my parents' gaze. "There's no reason for me to visit him anymore," I replied softly, before returning to my meal in silence. The thought of Zach lingered in my mind, and I couldn't help but wonder about his whereabouts. But I didn't dare bring him up in conversation, as it seemed to be the only topic my parents wan
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