Love by LotteryAfter the real son, Asher Vale, was brought back, everything in our house became tied to drawing lots.
The chef of the day, who would have to cook a particular person's preferred dishes, had to be decided by drawing lots. Even our parents' kisses and hugs were chosen the same way.
I always drew the short stick. The long stick, by default, belonged to Asher. He never had to do anything to receive our parents' love.
Whenever I felt it was unfair and wanted to cry, Mom would scold me sharply, "I bought the lot-drawing box because I was afraid you'd feel hurt. I wanted to be fair to both of you. If you want something, decide it yourselves. Your father and I won't interfere. If you can't draw the long stick, you can only blame your bad luck."
So I began practicing every day, shaking the box diligently, over and over, in hopes that one day, it would help me earn my parents' love.
Unfortunately, for ten years, I never once drew the long stick.
Until my birthday.
Asher wanted to go to the amusement park, and Mom once again told us to decide by drawing lots.
I secretly glued the two short sticks together and handed them to Mom, hoping to keep her with me.
She slapped me hard across the face, screaming that I was cheating and disobedient. Then she stormed out of the house with Asher.
When I fell to the ground, the short stick stabbed deep into my neck.
'I'm sorry, Mom. Next time, I'll work harder. Next time, I'll definitely draw the long stick.'