Love by Lottery
After 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.'