Chapter 3

I hovered beside him and screamed with all my might, “Dad, I’m right here. I’m right down here!”

But he could no longer hear me.

He rolled up his pant legs and was about to step into the fish pond when his phone rang.

The moment he answered, my mother’s hysterical sobs came through.

“Felix, get back here now! This is a disaster. Not only did she fail in math, but she has also been seeing some boy behind our backs. Did she run away with him?”

My father’s expression changed drastically when he heard this.

“Hold on. I’m on my way. Don’t panic.”

He spun around and sprinted for home. I screamed after him, but he did not stop.

The moment he stepped through the door, he saw the mess all over the floor.

My backpack had been dumped upside down. Books, notebooks, and stationery were scattered everywhere.

My mother clutched a piece of pink paper in her hand. She tossed it violently at my father’s chest.

“Read it. Someone mailed a love letter here. Do you finally see why she’s failing? Her head has been completely wrapped up in this nonsense.”

My father picked up the letter and skimmed through it quickly with a frown.

“Calm down. It’s only a letter. It even says right here that she turned him down. Don’t jump to conclusions.”

My mother pointed at him harshly.

“I knew something was off with her! Last month, she went behind my back and bought lipstick. What does a girl need lipstick for unless she’s trying to get some guy’s attention?”

I cried, but no tears came.

It had been a dry autumn day. My lips had cracked and were bleeding so badly that I used my saved-up allowance to buy a clear lip balm.

Since I was little, my mother had never allowed me to own anything colorful.

“A girl who dresses up too much is just asking for trouble.”

My hair had always been cut short like a boy’s. The only hairpin I owned was black, but it was so old that the paint had chipped off.

I only wore hand-me-downs from Belle.

I believed my mother had my best interests at heart, so I never once thought to go against her.

But every year, she gave Belle beautiful dresses, sparkling hair clips, and all kinds of skincare products whose names I did not even know.

She would always pat my cousin on the head and say with a smile, “Belle, you’re pretty and smart, unlike Tristy. If I don’t keep an eye on her, she’s going to get played by some guy before she even knows what hit her.”

I thought I had been obedient enough. Why did she have to destroy even the smallest shred of my dignity?

Did bad grades really make me worthless, through and through?

My father’s expression grew darker by the second.

He looked at my mother, who was acting like she had lost her mind, and spoke to her in a low, measured tone.

“Stop throwing things! If you break something, we can replace it. But if you make yourself sick from all this rage, what then?”

“What then? I’ve been sick for years.”

The words cut straight through her, and she burst into loud, anguished sobs.

“I was five months pregnant with our son. She left her toys on the floor, and I slipped. I lost the baby, and they had to take my uterus. I can never have another child ever again!”

She pounded the floor with her fists. Her face was streaked with tears and snot.

“It’s all her fault! She’s nothing but a jinx.”

My father frowned and gently tried to reason with her, “She was only two years old back then. What did she know? That was an accident. You can’t pin that on a toddler.”

My mother shot back hysterically, “If it wasn’t her, then who? Me? Do you think I chose to lose our son?”

Tears fill her eyes with years of pent-up resentment.

“She owes us that much. She has to be exceptional. Otherwise, how could she ever make it up to the little brother who never even got to be born?”

My father had no idea my mother’s resentment went that deep. He could only let out a sigh.

“That was ages ago. Just drop it.”

I watched her weep bitterly and felt a dull ache in my chest.

So, that was it.

No wonder she had always looked like she resented me.

I was the one responsible for her losing her son and her wish to have another child.

An overwhelming wave of grief and disbelief washed over me.

I owed her a life.

I was not outstanding enough, nor had I lived up to all her expectations.

I lowered my head in silence. There were no tears, but only a deep, hollow ache in my chest.

So, was this finally me giving that life back to her?