Banished Because Dad's Allergic to Me

Dad was sitting on the couch, flipping through a photo album. He was dressed in a clean, linen shirt. He looked healthy, and his face was bright and clear. It was impossible to tell that he was suffering from an allergy. He looked up when he heard the door creak open.

"You're back," he said lightly when he spotted me.

I nervously stood at the door, having no idea what to say. In the end, I managed a quiet, "Dad."

Just then, my younger brother, Seth Jameson, ran over to Dad's side in a small suit. He offered his book to him, asking in a clear voice, "How do you read this word, Dad?"

A gentle smile stretched across Dad's face in an instant. He pulled Seth into his arms and patiently pointed at the words on the book, teaching him how to read them.

I watched the scene unfold before me in a daze. I felt as if I could see an image of my past self overlapping and separating with the scene before me.

"Be quiet, Kevin."

Those were the words that I heard the most before I turned seven.

I had tried my best to obey Mom's and Dad's orders.

I had tried to be like Dad. I tried to sit on the couch without moving an inch while holding a book in my hands.

However, the words on the page seemed to move by themselves, and my thoughts would race from the age of the dinosaurs to outer space.

I couldn't help myself and would share those thoughts with Mom and Dad with joyful and expectant eyes.

However, Mom would always frown in response while Dad sighed tiredly. They would never respond to my words the way that they were responding to Seth now.

Dad had an adoring expression on his face as he patiently taught Seth.

Mom approached them. Using a tender tone that I had never heard before, she said, "Seth, say hi to your brother, Kevin."

Seth poked his head out from Dad's embrace and shot a curious look at me. "Hi, Kevin," he said timidly.

I didn't have a brother before I left.

"What's he doing here?" I asked, the words tumbling from my lips before I could stop them. "I don't have a brother."

The smile on Mom's face stiffened. The impatience that I was so familiar with flickered in her eyes as she snapped, "How can you speak to your elders like that, Kevin? You should take a leaf out of Seth's book and learn to be more refined and well-behaved."

Dad's gaze turned cold as he looked at me. "You were always making such a ruckus every day. We didn't have the energy to deal with your unruliness, so don't blame us for starting over and raising an obedient and mature son instead."

I felt as if I had been transported back in time to that winter day when Grandpa passed away. My entire body felt unbearably cold.

I wanted to ask them which part of me was disobedient. Grandpa told me that every child was different. Just because I was active didn't mean that I wasn't well-behaved.

However, I felt as if my throat was stuffed with cotton. I couldn't say a single word.

Mom and Dad were elegant and refined people. From their perspectives, I was a bad child because I was overflowing with energy.

Mom looked away and gritted out, "Why on earth did I give birth to a child like you?"

"Seth's nothing like you," Dad added icily. "He's quiet and needs someone to take care of him. You're his big brother, so you need to protect him."

My heart felt as if it was bleeding.

Mom and Dad had never protected me when I was Seth's age. They only hated my voice—hated that I was always causing a ruckus.

It turned out that it wasn't that they didn't know how to take care of a child. They just didn't want to take care of me.