Chapter 4

"What would be the point of telling you? You live in the city. You have so many expenses. I can't do much to help you, but I can't make things harder for you, either."

"Mom..."

My mother cut me off. "I'm really fine. Look, the station has lights, and security guards patrol the place. It's perfectly safe. It's even more spacious than home."

I looked at her.

She didn't mention being cold or hungry, or that she'd spent an entire day traveling, then waited for half the night on a hard bench.

Instead, she said the station was spacious and safe. That was how my mother had lived her entire life.

She endured ten parts hardship but spoke of less than one.

The other nine parts, she swallowed them all.

We had been poor when I was little, and my father had died when I was young. She raised me all on her own.

During the busy farming seasons, she worked in the fields. During the off-season, she went to town to find odd jobs.

Yet she never let me wear dirty clothes or go a single meal without a warm plate of food.

When I started high school, I needed $1,200 for tuition.

She didn't have the money, so she borrowed from five different families. It was already dark by the time she came home.

But she smiled as she pulled a stack of bills from her pocket, counting the fives and tens for a long time.

When she finished, she said, "Brooke, I may not have much to offer, but I'll make sure you finish your education."

Later, I graduated, found a job, and saved enough to buy a house.

The first thing I did was ask her to come live with me in the city.

She refused.

One moment, she'd say the vegetables in her garden needed watering. The next, she'd say a neighbor had asked her to look after their children for a few days. Sometimes, she'd claim she wasn't used to riding elevators in the city.

The truth was, I knew she was afraid of being a burden.

After Patricia moved in, my mother became even more reluctant to visit. She said she'd be better off living her own life and that she didn't want to interfere in mine.

Yet every month, she transferred $2,000 into my bank account without fail.

When I told her I didn't need it, she'd say, "Keep it. A woman should always have money of her own."

Meanwhile, she stayed in the countryside, wearing the same clothes for ten years, even after the collars had frayed.

During the whole time, Ethan and his family had the nerve to keep living in the house my mother had bought for me.

What gave them the right?

I clenched my fists.

Suddenly, a bold plan came to me.

I didn't let my mother spend another night making do at the bus station. Instead, I took her to the best hotel nearby. It cost $880 for one night.

My mother stopped at the hotel room door, afraid to go inside. "Brooke, I don't need to stay somewhere this nice. I can make do at the bus station for one night."

"Mom." I interrupted her and firmly led her inside. "You spent $800,000 buying me a house. Your daughter can afford to take care of you now. Just let me do something nice for you for once, okay?"

She looked at me, her lips moving slightly, but no words came out.

I helped her inside and sat her down on the edge of the bed. The mattress was so soft that she sank into it, making her look even smaller and more frail.

"Mom, get some good rest tonight. We'll deal with tomorrow when it comes."

My mother held my hand, looking worried. "What about you? When you go back... you won't get into an argument with them, will you?"

I shook my head. "No. Don't worry. I won't argue."

There was no point arguing with a bunch of animals like them.

My mother studied me for a while, then slowly nodded. "That’s good—no arguing. As long as you're doing well, it doesn't matter what happens to me."

I said nothing more. I tucked her into bed, then turned and left the room.

The hallway was quiet. I leaned against the wall for a while.

Then I took out my phone and dialed a number.

"Hello, is this a real estate agency? I want to sell my house. I don't care how low the price is. I have just one condition."