Page 216 of The Encore’s Crown

“We should stay,” he says.

“She’ll tell us to go.”

“She tells us she can walk alone while holding onto the wall.”

“She’s getting better.”

“She almost died.”

That ends every conversation. Neither of us says what sits beneath it. We left her in that house once.

We aren’t doing it again.

Before she’s discharged, we rent her somewhere new. A furnished one-story house in a quieter neighborhood with wide hallways, a walk-in shower, and no memories of Dad in the walls. Rithy fills the kitchen with food she won’t be able to eat for another month. I replace her clothes and toiletries. Natalia chooses soft blankets, slippers with grips on the soles, and enough pillows to build a defensive structure around Ma’s ribs.

Nothing from the old house goes there until police release it and Ma decides what she wants. She never has to cross that doorway again if she doesn't want to. The discharge planner arranges home-health visits. A nurse will check her medications and injuries several times a week. Physical and occupational therapists will come to the house. She’ll have follow-up appointments with trauma surgery, neurology, and speech therapy.

It still means someone needs to stay with her.

At least for the first few weeks.

Rithy and I discuss hiring a private-duty nurse for the hours home health isn’t there. We can afford it. We can afford three of them. Money isn’t the problem.

“Someone might sell it,” Rithy says quietly.

We’re gathered around the small table in Ma’s hospital room while she sleeps. Discharge papers cover half the surface, along with medication lists and instructions none of us fully trust ourselves to remember.

“It's a risk,” Natalia says.

“If they recognize our names that's it. One picture of her bruises, one recording or detail about Dad, and suddenly some outlet has an exclusive source close to the family.”

“We can use an agency with confidentiality agreements,” I say.

“And when the money an outlet offers is more than their yearly salary?”

I rub both hands over my face. Elise wants us in Los Angeles within five days. Stefan says the studio schedule can stretch another week, but after that, other people start losing time and money. Ma insists she’ll be fine alone between visits, which proves more than anything that she can't be trusted to make this decision. She won’t only be recovering from the injuries. She’ll be grieving him too. She tries to hide it from us, but I still see the pain in her eyes every time someone mentions the house or she wakes up reaching for a man who will never be there again.

We can’t leave her alone.

We won’t.

“I’ll do it,” Natalia says.

I look at her. “No.”

Her eyebrows rise.

“No?”

“You’ve been here every day since this happened.”

“Exactly. She knows me.”

“You’ve stopped everything for this. You're barely on your socials and you've paused all your brand work. You hardly see your own family.”

“I can visit my parents when she's resting. I can work from the house.” She leans across the table. “You’re trying to protect me from choosing something difficult because you think loving you means you’ve already taken too much. It's just like back in Japan. You're not taking anything from me. I'm offering.”

My mouth closes. Rithy looks between us and wisely says nothing.