"There's my princess! How are you doing?" My father asks, entering the room with yet another bouquet of mock orange flowers. It's been a week since I woke up - three days since I said I would start training - and he has been bringing me the same flowers every day since. Initially, I thought nothing of it, just his way of showing me that he loves and cares about me, but after a few days, it is starting to make me nervous. I feel as though he has an ulterior motive, and he is just preparing me for what is to come, or maybe for something that happened in the past, but since I can't remember, he is trying to make amends now. Nonetheless, he is making me feel on edge.

"Hi!" I exclaim, closing the book on my lap. I finished going through the first photo album the very next day after receiving it, so Father has been bringing me a new one every day. Most of the photos are of my siblings and me winning tournaments, or smiling in hospital beds with a medal around our necks. I'm hoping to see more recent photos soon - the last photo of myself is from five years ago, a few days before my mother's death, if the mental timeline I have made is correct. "I'm doing okay. I can't wait to get out of here!"

"Nice to hear you aren't going to miss me," The Doctor says drily, entering the room behind my father, a clipboard in hand.

I sit up higher, a smile tugging at my lips as I reply warmly, "Of course I will miss you. I just don't want to be in bed any longer!"

She laughs, messing up my hair as my father sits down on the chair next to my bed, smiling at us. There is something behind his eyes, though. An unreadable expression I just can't put my finger on-

"You are being discharged today,"

My thoughts are cut short, my eyes flying towards the blue-haired woman before me. Although I know she has a lot of work to do, she has been spending a lot of her free time with me, even to the point of joining me for lunch or dinner. It feels as if she is currently my only friend, and despite our age gap, we do have a lot in common. We both enjoy a good hot mint chocolate drink during rainy days, staring at the stars and dreaming about what is beyond our planet, and even playing chess - a sport I picked up pretty quickly a few days ago.

I feel like screaming with joy, jumping and skipping around the building from the amount of happiness I am feeling as her words sink in. I am going to be discharged.

"That's such great news! You'll be able to finally come home!" Dad exclaims, pulling me into a side hug.

"Yes, but no training until she has fully recovered. This means she needs another week inside - if possible without moving much from her bed - and the following two weeks Nova has to take it very slowly. I hope you can keep her in check, Mr Sol?" The Doctor says with a pointed look towards my father.

They share a past - I've figured out that much - I just don't know what happened between them. I feel like the Doctor doesn't like Izarius - my father - much, but for some reason, either for loyalty, trust or respect, she hides her feelings away and puts on a formal front.

"Yes, I think I can,"

"Okay, then. For now, you can pick up all your belongings and head downstairs. I've got a wheelchair-" The Doctor says, opening a hidden wardrobe in the wall, the object coming into view, "-that I recommend you use for moving around, at least for the first few days. It will feel strange and you will probably get frustrated, but it will help your recovery tremendously,"

My father scoffs, "Her injury is in her chest. How will that," he says with disgust, nodding towards the wheelchair, "help her recover? If anything, it will make it worse because she will have to use her arms instead of her legs,"

I close in on myself, my shoulders rising as I look from one to the other. On the one hand, I understand where my father is coming from; I mean how is a wheelchair supposed to help? But on the other hand, the Doctor is the professional here, and we should probably listen to her instructions if we want me to get better.

"It's for her safety. Please use it, I insist,"

"Sol's don't need-"

"I'll use it!" I exclaim, cutting Father off. He's been using that phrase quite a bit these past few days; Sol's do this, Sol's do that, a Sol would never do such a thing - it's getting on my nerves.

I appreciate my father and I know he has my best interests in mind, but sometimes I feel like he is too superficial and values someone's status in society too much - most of the do's and don'ts a Sol must act upon are to keep our social status up high with the elite, so that we are not mixed up, or confused with the common folk who live off the scraps in the city.

"But-" Father tries to speak, only to be quickly cut off by the Doctor, "That's a good choice. Now, I will give you a few minutes and meet you downstairs, where we can sign the papers for your discharge,"

I don't want her to leave.

It's the first time I have disappointed my father, and I'm starting to think I should make sure it is the only time. Ever.

"What in the Galaxy do you think you are doing?" He hisses, making the hairs of my arms stand up as I stare up at him from my bed, "You can't be seen in a wheelchair - you will be seen as weak, pathetic. What is wrong with you? Have I taught you nothing these past few days?"

He is standing above me, his face slowly becoming redder as he stares down at me, breathing heavily. His hands are pulled into tight fists, and although I've always believed he would never hurt me, right now, I'm not sure if that is true.

I want to say anything, shout back at him and tell him exactly what I'm thinking. But I stay quiet.

Using a wheelchair is nothing to be ashamed of - it just means my body needs readjusting to my usual life, that the lack of movement has left my muscles without much strength and I need to build it up more - but Father doesn't see it that way.

"'I'm sorry," I whisper once he has calmed down a bit, the pressure behind my eyes increasing as I look up at him.

"Okay," He replies, heaving out a sigh. He seems to be trying to calm down, although his face is still as red as before, the contrast between that and his white hair making it even more obvious, "I know you are sorry, you just don't know what we must do to keep our social status. But don't worry, I am here for you, and I will help you in every way I can,"

I don't understand why he wants to pretend so much, why he wants me to be in pain and become exhausted just so that we don't seem weak, but I nod, not wanting him to get angry again.

"Let's get going, then!" He exclaims. The switch of emotion takes me by surprise, the way he just smiles and starts picking up the various photo albums and carefully placing them in my duffel bag such a big contrast from the man who had been standing in front of me a few seconds ago.

Pulling the duvet cover off my body, I twist around, dangling my legs over the edge of the bed. The last time I had stood up and moved around was five days ago, when Izarius had burst into the room and scared me. But the difference between now and then is large - I was running on adrenaline, and a lot of pain medication to diminish the pain. Now, though, I haven't had a painkiller since last night, and there is no reason for me to have an adrenaline rush now.

"Nova, are you alright?" Father asks from the other side of the room. He has my clothes - new ones because the ones I had been wearing during the car accident were cut into pieces by the doctors who operated on me - in his arms, ready to help me change out of my nightgown.

"Yes," I say.

I know this is going to hurt - I can feel the muscles in my leg pulling with just the movement of leaning forward - but Father is waiting for me, and I need to show him that I am strong.

Pushing forward, I brace myself as my feet make impact on the floor, my ankles straining with the weight. Gritting my teeth, I straighten up, letting go of the rail next to the bed, I slowly make my way around the bed. The Doctor had told me that my body would be weak since most of my body's energy was centred on repairing my chest instead of keeping my body alive - that's why I have been hooked up to the machines - and so, although I have been eating and drinking a lot, my body is malnourished and out of shape.

Father is waiting for me patiently beside the door, although my tardiness seems to be getting on his nerves. Trying to hurry up, I keep my arms extended sideways for balance, my legs wobbly as I try to quicken my steps.

The pain is almost unbearable, but I know that once I get out of the hospital, I will be able to stay in my room and hide from everyone.

"Good girl. I know it is hard, but as a lady from a high-status family, you must bear this burden. It will be over soon, though. Just concentrate on hiding your pain," Father whispers, kissing my head and leading me towards the bathroom, where I will be getting changed.

I nod, but say nothing in response. If I open my mouth, I am scared I will scream out in pain.

*****

The pain is unbearable.

I've been at home since this morning, and although I have told Father about my current circumstances, he told me that as a Sol, I cannot let the family workers know about my weakness - so I haven't had any medication since yesterday evening.

Shifting on the uncomfortable chair, I try to sit in a position where my back can lean against the cushions behind me without hurting. Since I can't let anybody know how much pain I am in, I have decided to stay in my room and claim I am studying for an exam. Based on what my father has explained, I used to do this often before the accident, so the workers shouldn't be too surprised about my absence in the training grounds beside our house.

Someone knocks on the door, to which I quickly reply giving them permission to enter while sitting up straighter, mentally blocking the agony the movement produces, "Miss Nova, your father requests your presence in the Dining Room," a young girl says softly, standing next to the large wooden door in her dark green attire.

All the women working in this house wear dark green trousers and a slightly lighter coloured shirt, and the men wear the opposite - light green trousers and dark green shirts. I don't entirely understand why my father is obsessed with the colour, but most things in this house are green. Maybe it's a reminder of what our planet used to look like, maybe it's a family tradition - nevertheless, I still haven't figured it out.

"I have already had dinner, so I will not be attending," I reply, not moving from my stiff position. Although I can't remember what my life used to be before the accident, I seem to still know some of the mannerisms and expressions I was taught as a child.

What I have said isn't a lie - I have had dinner - but then again, it isn't the entire truth, either. Since my body is recovering from malnourishment, I have been eating quite a lot more and I am almost constantly hungry, so instead of waiting the three hours I had left for dinner, I had decided to eat twice.

"I am afraid he said that you must come. He has some guests who would like to meet you," She doesn't move from her position next to the door, but I can tell she is waiting for me to accept the invitation and follow her.

There is no way out of it, then.

"Okay, then," I nod. I am angry that Father isn't letting me recover properly, but then again, we are Sol's, and we must keep our social status high above the rest, even if that means having to endure some more pain.

The girl nods in return, but instead of stepping out of the room as I expected her to do, she moves in, "I shall help you dress, then,"

I cringe.

She can't help me.

Even if it is something that I used to do, I can't let her see my chest, or how thin my limbs are beneath the baggy clothes I am wearing.

No, I must do it on my own.

"Don't worry, I can do it myself. Just... Please tell me what I need to wear," I ask, biting my lip in embarrassment. I don't think I would usually ask for help, so that is probably why the girl looks at me so strangely as she moves towards my wardrobe and picks my clothes for me.

I don't move from my seat, the pain in my back searing up my spine as I wait patiently for her to find my clothes and leave. Once she has, I take a deep breath. I know this is going to be painful, but then again, I am a Sol, and Sol's are strong - we don't let any pain keep us down.

Pushing myself up, I grit my teeth, each second more tortuous than the last. The pain is worse than this morning, a clear sign the effect of the painkillers I took yesterday has faded completely.

I should have asked for some painkillers before leaving the hospital. Or stolen some.

Trying to keep my breathing even, I slowly walk towards my bed, where the clothes - a black pair of wide-leg trousers and an oversized green crew neck sweater - the girl has chosen out for me are laying on. Luckily, both items of clothing are wide enough to hide my weak limbs. It's hard not to fall over as I take off the clothes I am currently wearing, so instead of staying upright, I sit on the bed, my muscles agonisingly painful from all the hard work.

I can only imagine I used to be quite fit if I was a Dignitori, so this must be quite an enormous change for my body to adjust to.

Pulling the crew neck sweater over my head, I cry out in pain, the agony in my arms slowly decreasing as I let them flop to my sides and recover from the exertion. I know I probably haven't got much time to get down to the Dining Room, but before I leave, I want to take a few seconds to breathe before I leave my safe haven and put on my mask of perfection.

No fear.

No emotion.

No pain.

I am a Sol, and so, just like my father has explained to me on several occasions now, I must endure this in order to maintain the social status of our family name.

And I can't let him down again, especially after the way he reacted this morning.

Taking a deep breath, I get up, my broken body stiffening into position as I near the door - shoulders back, chin high, back straight and muscles tensed. It all feels like second nature, and yet, it almost feels like a forgotten part of me. It must be because of my amnesia.

Opening the door, I am met by the young girl from before, who looks at me in surprise, almost like she wasn't expecting me to leave my room, "This way, Miss Nova,"

I don't know how she knows I don't know my way around here, but instead of asking and possibly outing myself, I stay quiet, my stiff legs trying to keep up with hers as we move from one side of the house, down the staircase and towards the other end of the house.

The walls are all coloured beige, with decorative pieces made out of gold and with green accents, various plants growing up the walls and hanging from the ceiling. There are wooden benches in every corridor, but I think it's more for show than for use since wood is quite rare and expensive, and the lights that hang from the walls seem old and possibly handmade.

"This is it,"

My observation is cut short as we stop in front of a large wooden door - bigger than the door to my bedroom - and wait for the worker inside to open it. While we wait, I try to adjust my body, my legs are starting to cramp from the exercise of walking. I can only hope I will be able to stay seated and possibly disappear back into my room very soon.

"Nova!" Father exclaims as the door opens, coming to greet me, "See, this is my daughter. She's the one who went to the Galactic Cup a few years ago,"

He'd never told me that. In fact, he had only ever told me I had won minor tournaments, mostly around planet Earth and two or three on the nearing planets when they held joint tournaments.

Suppressing my annoyance at him for keeping this fact hidden, I smile at the men behind him. Three men - all around my father's age - stare back at me, their faces giving nothing away as they survey me. Just like when I first met Father, my instincts are telling me to run, to get away from here. But I can't. Not with my father here, not if my actions might put our family at risk of losing social status, not when I am so weak and won't be able to do anything to evade my father if he turns against me.

This chapter isn't as long as the previous one, but I still managed to surpass the 3K mark, so yay for me! One of my readers let me know in the previous chapter that yes, to enter the Wattys a story must be 50K words long, so hopefully, I can make it! I currently have around 8K, so I still have a long way to go, but I think I can do it! Does anyone know when we have to start entering the books for watty2021? I've read that it is usually around August/September, but I would love to have some confirmation.

Thank you for reading, and don't forget to comment, vote, and share if you enjoyed it! Thank you!

- Phoe