Chapter 5

I stood at the kitchen door, holding my daughter's camp completion notice, which stated: "Family members are advised to step up psychological counselling and dietary supervision".

The paper crinkled in my grip.

That night, I returned to my room, folded the paper into thirds, and stuffed it at the bottom of the drawer. I turned off the light and lay down, staring at the ceiling while listening to the cicadas outside. I couldn't sleep a wink that night.

Because my daughter had fainted several times at the camp, she was sent to the hospital for another check-up.

The doctor held the report with a frown, still repeating the same warnings: high cholesterol and excess blood sugar. He advised strict dietary restrictions, or Lara's condition would develop into diabetes soon, which was irreversible.

My daughter sat outside the examination room scrolling through her phone with headphones on. When the doctor spoke, she occasionally responded with a muffled "Mmh."

My mother-in-law lowered her head to watch videos with the phone's sound on loudspeaker.

On the way home, my daughter crumpled the report and tossed it into a trash can by the roadside, saying, "It's all the same old rhetoric. My triglyceride level is 170, and the normal level is 150. A few points higher than normal is nothing."

My mother-in-law agreed alongside her. "I, an old lady, don't have many normal markers on my report, yet I'm still alive. The hospital's standards are too strict, just like food expiration dates. One day over won't kill you."

My daughter's phone rang. She glanced at the number, frowned, and dismissed it.

I caught a glimpse of an unfamiliar Facetime call request on her screen, marked with a string of garbled characters.

"It's that crazy lady again," my daughter rolled her eyes. "She's always calling to scare me, saying I'll weigh 500 pounds in the future and can't even leave the house. Please, I'm only 230 pounds. 500 pounds is ridiculous. Am I going to eat until I double my weight?"

My mother-in-law nodded in agreement. "Calls like that should be ignored. I read that many scammers nowadays use AI to create fake videos and photos! These days, scams are everywhere. They may not want your money now, but later, they'll trick you when you lower your guard."

Right then, my phone vibrated. I looked down at the screen. It was a Facetime call request showing a garbled string, exactly like the one my daughter received on her phone.

I went to the balcony and answered the call. The screen revealed my enormous future daughter. Her hair was clumped together, matted with snack residue. She appeared even larger than last time, her face swollen like dough that had risen, with droopy eyelids that barely opened.

She sat in an oversized custom-made chair, the armrests stuffed tightly against her body. She opened her mouth, her lips moving several times, but no sound came out. After a long silence, she bowed her head, said nothing, and hung up.

The screen went dark. I stood on the balcony, feeling the night breeze on my face. The cold edges of the phone pressed against my palm. Suddenly, my legs felt weak, and I slowly crouched down, holding onto the railing.

I could understand my future daughter's feelings. She did all she could, only to be ignored, misunderstood, and be treated as a liar. That loneliness, I was all too familiar with.

That night, I packed a suitcase with only a few changes of clothes and my IDs.

My husband was in the living room watching a basketball game, my mother-in-law was washing dishes in the kitchen, and my daughter was in her room live-streaming herself eating late-night snacks. No one noticed me dragging my suitcase down the hallway.

I placed the keys on the shoe cabinet by the door and quietly closed the door behind me.