Chapter 1

Heather's POV

I had just submitted my international volunteer program application when Grandma's voice came from the yard.

"Hey, brat! Are the chili peppers and tomatoes done drying yet? What are you dawdling for? The sun's already past its peak!"

I immediately locked my phone and hurried out into the yard. "Coming!"

My paternal grandma, Eleanor Cain, was sitting under the eaves, shucking corn and talking to herself. "Your dad called the day before yesterday. He said he's coming back to see you next month."

She tossed the leaves into the basket, her tone as casual as if she were mentioning something trivial.

"It's not easy for him to make it back even once a year. He works hard to make a living in the city. When you see him, don't give him the cold shoulder."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Your mom also said she'll send some things back at the start of fall," Grandma added. "Your parents may be divorced, but they still care about you. Don't be like that brat next door, always complaining about this and that."

I had heard the same thing for ten years. Every year, it was always about how, despite having it hard, they still cared so much about me, and therefore, I shouldn't ever be difficult.

I had never once doubted those words, but things changed 20 minutes ago when I came across my younger sister Hazel Foster's social media profile.

She said, "On weekdays, I stay with my mom. On the weekend, I go to my dad's."

I set down the corn in my hands, my voice turning cold. "Grandma, do Mom and Dad only see Hazel at Grandpa Mike and Grandma Evelyn's place once a year, too?"

Grandma's hand froze in midair, her voice suddenly rising. "What's gotten into you? Why are you suddenly asking about that?"

"I just—"

"Stop thinking about them all the time!" she snapped, cutting me off.

"Your mom left you when you were only eight. I'm the one who raised you, fed you, clothed you, and took care of you. The fact that she even comes here once a year is enough for you to be grateful!"

She still hadn't answered my question.

"You eat well and have warm clothes here with me. What more could you possibly want?" Grandma continued. "Always asking this and that. Are you trying to grow into an ungrateful brat or what?"

I didn't press further. It wasn't the first time I had tried.

When I was nine, my mom, Margot Irvin, came to visit me during summer vacation. When it was time for her to leave, I cried and clung to her, begging her not to go.

That night, Grandma yelled at me with a grim look. "Have some shame! She doesn't even want you anymore! Why are you still clinging to her?"

After that, I never cried again when Mom left.

When I was 12, my dad, William Foster, came to pick up Hazel for a movie during the New Year holiday. I asked if I could go, too. In front of him, Grandma said, "Don't be a nuisance to them. Your dad still has to get home."

All this time, I thought Grandma was protecting me. I thought she was keeping me from dwelling on all those "unhappy things".

Now, looking at her clenched jaw and her avoidant gaze, I suddenly understood. She wasn't afraid I would get hurt. She was afraid I would find out the truth.

That night, I lay in bed and browsed through Hazel's profile again. I scrolled down from her latest posts.

In a photo from last year's Independence Day at Worldstar Studios, I spotted Dad's profile in the crowd.

In another one from her birthday party two years ago, Mom's face was reflected in the window.

During a beach trip three summers ago, the shadows of all three of them stretched across the sand.

I then went all the way back to the year I graduated from elementary school. In every photo captioned "Out with friends", traces of Mom and Dad were somewhere in the background.

For ten consecutive years, they had never missed a moment of her life. Somehow, I had been stupid enough not to notice until today.

I opened Hazel's chat and typed, "Have you all been living together this whole time?"

Before I could hit send, a message popped up in that same chat.

"Guess what, Heather? Mom and Dad said they want to see you tomorrow!"