Wish You'd Love Me

The results from the third mock exams came back, and I handed my report card—stacked with fake low scores—to my mother for her signature. She didn't seem surprised; she must have gotten used to my failure by now."Ha, I knew it—you're a good-for-nothing," she scoffed. "And you still have the nerve to let Clarissa tell people you did well? Talk about thick skin. Having a daughter like you, I'd probably be better off if I just ended it all. Good thing you're not—"She stopped herself abruptly and spat a raisin onto me. I felt disgusted, but I dared not flick it away. If I did, my situation would only get worse."Later, I'm heading to Sadie's for dinner. You'd better wash the clothes and clean the floors. And don't forget to do the dishes," she ordered.I lowered my head, sinking deep into my thoughts. What would happen if my mother knew I was her real daughter? It wasn't long before she would find out. I smiled. I couldn't wait to see her reaction.Suddenly, I felt a sharp pain on

The paternity test would take three days. During that time, Sadie took charge and had me stay with the Gardners. My mother, thinking it didn't matter, immediately agreed.Although it wasn't my first time at their home, I still couldn't help but feel in awe. The Gardners' house was huge, warm, and inviting. I almost could have lived here for 18 years. I sat awkwardly on the sofa, feeling the weight of three sets of eyes on me. Sadie, upon hearing that I might be her biological daughter, couldn't hold back the tears. "Aunt Sadie, don't cry. I'm sure Clarissa is your daughter." They had such a beautiful family. I tried to reassure them, unwilling to let them be upset. "See, she looks just like you and Uncle Jimmy. You can tell by her features." My words seemed to ease the tension, even if just a little. Sadie took my hand gently. "Coco, I heard you didn't fill out your university applications. Why?" she asked softly. "I heard from Clarissa that you did really well on you

When I placed my ID on the counter to check in at the internet café, Becka Tanner, the owner, looked at me with surprise."Coco! You finally don't have to sneak around at night to use the internet anymore."The first time I met Becka was three years ago, late at night. My face bore the marks of my mother's nails, scratches from the slap she had given me. My arms were covered in bruises. I walked in and told her I needed to use the internet, but I wouldn't be able to pay her until a month later. Other internet café owners thought I was crazy, but I was determined. If it didn't work out, I would have no choice but to resort to drastic measures.But Becka didn't hesitate. She set me up in a private room. Later, I asked her if she wasn't afraid I was some ill-behaved girl who would do anything to get online. She said she'd been running the café for years, and could tell I wasn't that kind of person. "Plus, who would bring such a heavy backpack just to use the internet?" A mo