Chapter 3

"Brother, listen to me, calm down. Ava gave me sleeping pills."

My father was boiling with rage. He gnashed his teeth so hard they clicked, his face a deep crimson. He pointed at the bed where the mottled bloodstains lay. "Then what in the world is that on the bed?"

He stood there dazed. Before he could explain, my father stepped forward and landed another powerful punch.

A streak of bright red blood appeared at the corner of his mouth. I was terrified. I rushed forward to stop my father. "Dad, stop hitting him. Please, don't hit him anymore."

At that moment, a flicker of regret touched my heart. Seeing him like that made my heart ache. He must have been so angry with me.

My father looked at me with a gaze full of resentment. He had never looked at me that way before. His eyes were bloodshot. He raised his hand and struck me with great force, leaving me in utter shock.

My father. For the first time in my life, he had hit me.

My lip began to bleed. I could not dodge in time and stumbled onto the floor, my head spinning.

At that same moment, a middle-aged woman ran into the room with a panicked expression.

"Oh my god. Eddie, oh Eddie. Are you trying to drag my name through the mud like this? You are thirty-four years old, about to get married, and you are sleeping with girls. Oh my god, why must I suffer like this?"

My father whirled around to face his mother, shouting furiously.

"You there. Who are you calling a girl? This is my daughter. Your son seduced my daughter, and now you are the one making a scene."

"EVERYBODY STOP IT." He suddenly screamed. His voice was so loud it drowned out my father and his mother. Suddenly, the entire room fell into a terrifying silence.

Then, he looked at me with angry eyes. While I was still in a state of shock, he stepped forward, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me out of the room. He slammed the door shut without a word, leaving me standing there stunned.

This was the first time I had ever seen him truly angry. His silence was even more frightening than anything I had imagined.

I stood there as still as a statue. It took several minutes for me to regain my senses. I tried to press my ear against the door, but I could not hear a thing. There was only a jumble of muffled sounds that made it impossible to distinguish his voice from the others.

I grew anxious. I was afraid something terrible might happen to him. I was afraid my father would beat him. I was afraid of many things, but could do nothing. Why. Why had he locked me out here?

My heart felt as though it were on fire. No matter how many times I pounded on the door, no one opened it. Sometimes the room fell silent, and then another sound would drift out that I could not quite make out.

About two hours later, the door opened. My heart beat faster than usual. I did not know what the outcome would be.

The first person to walk out was my father. Judging by the furious look in his eyes, I could guess. My plan had completely failed.

I was terrified. I hurriedly stood before my father and stammered an explanation.

"Dad, the truth is."

My father did not listen. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me away.

"Keep quiet. You are an eighteen-year-old woman, yet you act like a child, causing trouble for so many people."

I knew the whole truth had come out, but I still tried to defend myself.

"No. It is not like what he said. He and I really did."

"Be quiet. We are going home right now."

My father barked at me in anger. At this moment, I knew I should not say anything more. Everything had been made clear. I stood there blankly and let my father drag me home.

My plan. It was over.

No matter how hard I tried, he was still going to get married. That thought made my heart fall into the deepest abyss.

Throughout the entire drive, I was as dazed as a soulless corpse. My father did not say a word, focusing entirely on the road. Perhaps he was still very angry with me.

When we arrived home, my father did not say anything to my mother. When she pressed him for answers, he simply said he had picked me up from school. I was quite lucky to be born into an understanding family. Seeing the tension, my mother did not ask further and went into the kitchen to cook.

I did not eat dinner. I lay on my bed with a blank mind, tears falling continuously. Around nine in the evening, my mother knocked on the door, carrying a tray of food.

I glanced at the things in her hands and then dazedly let her into the room. Women are very intuitive. Nothing could escape her gaze. I think she already knew.

My mother placed the tray on the table, her face clouded with sadness. She walked over to me, took out a bottle of medicine, and sat down, asking tenderly.

"Does it hurt much, my child?"

Only then did I notice that my face had swollen from my father's slap, and the blood on my lip had dried. I shook my head and sank back into silence.

My mother applied the medicine to the wound on my mouth. Her care made me burst into tears. Even though I had told myself to be strong so my family would not worry, for some reason, I could not control myself.

Seeing my tears, my mother wiped them away and spoke gently.

"Cry if you want to. You don't need to hold it back."

Just waiting for her to say those words, I threw my arms around her and sobbed uncontrollably. My mother rubbed my back. I could feel that she was crying too.

"Mom, I love him so much. I truly, truly." As I spoke, my throat tightened, and my heart bled with pain. I sobbed and cried. I could not utter the next word "love" because the pain was too great.

Mother continued to rub my back, comforting me tenderly.

"Ava, life is long, and you are still young. These feelings are just a temporary, youthful impulse."