Chapter 2

“Diana, there’s food in the kitchen. Fix yourself something to eat. You took too long, so we didn’t wait for you. Don’t be upset. You’re our good girl, remember?”

Before I could respond, the call ended. I swallowed the rest of my words as I listened to the dial tone.

‘You’re our good girl.’

Those words had become a familiar refrain ever since Lydia moved in next door.

I was still in kindergarten when it all began.

One day, I found Lydia crouching outside her front door, reluctant to go home. After talking with her for a while, I learned that she came from a single-parent family.

Her mother was always busy with work and had little time to look after her, so I invited her over to our house.

Mom was surprised to see her at first. However, after hearing Lydia’s story at the dinner table, her eyes softened with affection.

“Poor sweetheart. You can come over to our house for dinner from now on.”

From that day forward, Lydia became a regular guest in our home.

She was lively and outgoing, always managing to bring smiles to my parents’ faces at the dinner table.

Mom would constantly pile the best dishes onto Lydia’s plate.

Sometimes, I wanted some, too. Whenever that happened, Mom would simply smile and pat me on the head.

“Diana is such a good girl. Why don’t you let Lydia have some?”

Every time she said that, I would quietly pull back my spoon.

It made me feel uncomfortable, but back then, I was too young to understand what favoritism meant.

All I knew was that if I did as Mom said, she would be happy and I would not get scolded.

Little by little, those words became more and more common in our household. It was as though the words had seeped into my very bloodstream.

Under the soothing spell of being called a good girl, I gradually gave away everything that was mine.

Looking back now, I realized I had nothing left.

I returned to my bedroom, which had been converted from a tiny tea room.

There was a narrow bed and a folding table. That was all. I used to have a bedroom of my own.

However, Lydia often stayed overnight at our house, and one day, she said she did not like sharing a room with anyone.

Just like that, my bedroom became hers.

Back then, I cried and threw tantrums. In the end, all I got for it was Mom throwing my beloved LEGO set out the front door.

I knelt on the floor, heartbroken, trying to piece the scattered bricks back together.

Mom only scolded me, “Lydia already has it hard enough without a mother to keep her company. Do you have to bully her, too?”

I never wanted to bully her. I looked at Mom, and then at the front door, which had been firmly shut in my face.

For the first time, I swallowed my words instead of letting them out.

I was seven that year.

It was only after I had swept up every last LEGO piece scattered throughout the hallway and apologized to Lydia that Mom finally allowed me back inside.

From that day on, I grew quieter at home.

Mom would often look at me and heave a sigh. “This child used to be so lively when she was little. How did she end up like this?”

Sitting on my narrow bed, I examined my room for the first time.

The paint was peeling from the walls, and the wallpaper was faded and mottled.

The room was stuffier and more unbearably hot than the living room, where sunlight could never reach.

For eleven years, I had been living like this in my own home.

I found a plastic basin and placed the sunflowers inside. After arranging the bouquet, I set it by the window.

Then I took out my phone and began checking my answers to the university entrance exams.

I covered a sheet of paper with marks and calculations. My estimated score was 701 points. A score like that was enough to get me into virtually any top university in the country.

I stared at the number on the page and let out a long breath.

On the day my years of hard work finally came to an end, no one was cheering for how far I had come.

No one cared about the future that lay ahead of me. Every single one of them was lost in their own little world of warmth and happiness.

Perhaps that was for the best. At least no one would stand in the way of the future I wanted.