I Disowned My Ungrateful Mother

I stood outside the private dining hall. Laughter and cheerful chatter drifted out from inside, but I felt chills spreading through my body.

The gold in my hands felt heavy. I imagined it mocking my own foolish love.

“That’s not quite fair. A party this big couldn’t have been cheap. Both of your daughters work hard to earn money, and one stays close to keep you company. You really are blessed.”

Mom’s expression immediately soured. “Yeah? Who knows what she does out there, or where her money comes from? All she does is embarrass me.

“Thankfully, Jessie knows the hotel owner. Mary could never have booked such a high-end venue.”

The crowd’s attention shifted instantly to Jessie, who was sitting right beside Mom. She smiled faintly, “Mom, you worked so hard raising us. This is nothing. As long as you are happy, that’s all that matters.”

“As for Mary, I saw her a few days ago getting out of an old man’s car. Maybe her work really is that busy.”

The room fell into an awkward silence. Their expressions suggested that they were beginning to believe I was doing something shady outside.

In truth, that “old man” was my boss. That day, we had gone together to meet a business partner, and he had simply given me a ride afterward.

Just like that, I, the real organizer of the party, was completely forgotten. The praise shifted entirely to Jessie.

I looked at the jewelry in my hand: a gold necklace, a gold bracelet, and a pair of gold earrings.

Mom often used to talk about how she sold off her wedding jewelry in order to raise Jessie and me.

Guilt had gnawed at me every time she said it. I went through old photographs, bought gold bars, and commissioned a craftsman to recreate the exact same pieces of jewelry, hoping to make her happy.

It seemed pointless at that moment.

I placed the jewelry back into my bag and pushed the door open. “Since when did Jessie know the owner of this hotel, too?”

Since they had trampled on my sincerity, there was no reason for me to spare them any dignity.