Dad admonished me, then hurriedly left the house with Mom.

"Talking about work? Really?"

With my heart full of doubts, I secretly followed them outside, only to see that familiar Lamborghini.

Moments later, Celline stepped out of the car and dove straight into Mom's embrace, her movements far more natural than mine had ever been. Mom’s face softened into a doting smile. Meanwhile, Dad frowned and scolded, "Didn’t I tell you not to come here? Why did you sneak over?"

Unfortunately for them, there is no such thing as a completely impenetrable secret—I already knew the truth.

"I missed you guys." Celline pouted, then pulled out a pair of movie tickets and said, "Mom, Dad, come to the movies with me tonight, okay? The last time we went together was two months ago."

Mom and Dad exchanged glances, hesitation flickering across their faces. Seeing this, Celline pouted again, her voice taking on a pitiful tone. "Mom, Dad, am I not your favorite daughter?"

"Of course you are!" Mom immediately reassured her.

Celline blinked innocently and added, "Oh, is it because Sister Naomi wants you to accompany her? If that's the case, then you should go with her instead. I don’t mind." Her falsely sweet tone sent shivers down my spine.

"No, it’s not that!"

"We have a meeting with a client tonight. We'll see if we're free later," Mom quickly denied.

Dad nodded. "Yes, we'll call you if we’re free."

"Alright then." Celline feigned disappointment as she got back into the car.

I clenched my fists, feeling a storm brewing in my chest, but I didn’t confront them. Instead, I silently returned home, waiting to see whom they would ultimately choose to spend the evening with.

Normally, when I went out with Mom and Dad, I would wash my hair, put on perfume and dress neatly. But tonight, I felt no desire to do any of that.

By the end of the night, Dad suddenly turned to me and said, "Naomi, the company just notified us that we need to work overtime tonight. Your mom and I have to go, so—"

"You guys go," I interrupted before he could finish.

Dad hesitated for a moment before sighing in relief. "Alright. Stay home and go to bed early. There are noodles in the kitchen. If you get hungry, cook yourself some dinner."

I watched them leave, my vision blurred by tears.

In the end, they still chose her. They abandoned their own biological daughter to spend time with their precious adopted one. I just wanted to be with them for one evening. Was that really too much to ask? Why are they doing this to me?

I ran into my room, my chest heaving with emotion and began tearing through the stack of birthday greeting cards my parents had written me over the years.

"Little Feather, we hope you have a joyful new year! Mom and Dad love you!"

"Naomi, you've grown up again. Don't stress too much—your health and happiness are what matter most."

"Our Naomi is the sweetest and most understanding girl! She truly is our little angel!"

These cards had been my only birthday gifts every year. I had cherished them because they had felt like proof of my parents’ love. But now, I realized—it was all a lie.

I tore them apart, along with the certificates and awards I had worked so hard for over the years. I had studied tirelessly, spending every free moment in the library. I had even turned down an opportunity to study abroad, all because I wanted to stay close to my parents and support them. But now, all my efforts felt meaningless. Another sleepless night. Another night spent in tears. And then, a sudden realization struck me— I had to start living for myself.

Without hesitation, I picked up my phone and called my college professor.

"Professor Joe, are there still any openings for the overseas study program?"

"There are, there are! I was just waiting for you to say yes!" Professor Joe’s excitement was palpable through the phone. "You’re my best student, Naomi. If you go abroad to further your studies, your future will be limitless!"

I felt my throat tighten. "But, Professor, the tuition and living expenses..."

"The school will cover it all. You don’t have to worry about a thing."

Hearing those words, a wave of emotions surged within me. A mix of relief, gratitude and something I hadn’t felt in a long time—warmth.

"Thank you, Professor!" I whispered, my voice trembling.

After hanging up, I sat in silence for a long moment, letting the reality of my decision sink in. Just then, the front door creaked open.

"Little Feather, come see what we brought you!" Mom’s cheerful voice rang through the house.

I stepped out of my room and found them holding a bag of my once-favorite candy canes.

"Little Feather, we’re sorry about last night," Mom said as she placed the candy in my hand. She stroked my hair gently, her voice filled with false remorse. "Once we come back from this business trip, we’ll take you to the movies."

Dad nodded. "I’ll buy you two buckets of popcorn then."

I stared at them, my expression unreadable.

"Okay," I replied flatly.

They took my response as a sign that everything was back to normal. Without another word, they hurriedly packed their things, left a hundred-dollar bill on the table and prepared to leave once more.

Just as they were stepping out the door, Mom turned back, her expression slightly nervous. "Oh, by the way, if any packages arrive in the next few days, don’t open them, alright?"

I nodded mechanically, though my mind was already racing.

They’ve never specifically told me not to open a package before. Which meant—it had to be from Celline.

Sure enough, that evening, the doorbell rang. A courier stood outside, holding a small parcel. I signed for it, hesitating for only a second before flipping it over to check the sender’s address.

My suspicion was right. This was for Celline. Mom and Dad didn’t want her coming to the house directly, so they had her packages sent here instead. Something inside me snapped.

Before I left, there was one thing I needed to know—what was so special about Celline? What made her more deserving of my parents’ love than me?

I followed the address to a grand, detached villa. Two bodyguards stood at the entrance, keeping watch.

The doors were slightly ajar and through the gap, I could see Celline seated at an elegant grand piano, playing effortlessly. She wore a noble, custom-tailored dress. She looked graceful, refined—everything I wasn’t. Compared to my simple, worn-out clothes, the difference between us was staggering.

One of the guards caught sight of me and scowled. "Go beg for food somewhere else. This isn’t a place for the likes of you. Get lost."

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I just stood there, frozen, staring inside.

Celline must have noticed me because she suddenly lifted her hands from the piano keys and gracefully stood up. With a slight smirk, she glanced at the bodyguards. "Let her in."

I stepped inside, my eyes darting around the luxurious interior. Chandeliers, marble floors, priceless paintings—everything exuded wealth. Memories of my cramped little bedroom flashed through my mind, making my chest tighten with resentment.

"Have you always believed you lived a happy life? That your classmates and teachers envied you for having such ‘loving’ parents?" Celline’s voice was soft, almost pitying.

I clenched my fists. "What are you trying to say?"

"What I’m saying is," she continued, tilting her head slightly, "your so-called happiness is nothing but a joke."

A cold smirk played on her lips as she gestured around the room. "Look at this villa. Look at my piano. Look at the dress I’m wearing. Every single thing here is custom-made, designed specifically for me."

She took a step closer. "And what have Mom and Dad given you? Hand-me-down clothes? Leftover food?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper, taunting. "Oh and let’s not forget—while you were staying up late, working hard and worrying about them, they were here. With me."

Each word cut deeper than the last.

I could feel the tears stinging my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "I worked hard. I studied. I gave up everything for them!" My voice cracked. "Why... why wasn’t that enough?"

Celline chuckled, her tone dripping with mockery. "Because you’re ugly and dull."

Celline couldn't help but laugh out loud. "It's not like I'm some fair-skinned beauty with a noble aura wherever I go, bringing honor to our parents."

"The only reason I still acknowledge you is because I pity you. If I abandoned you completely, my conscience might nag at me."

"I remember Mom and Dad saying you were born with a face full of wrinkles. And now, even after all these years, you haven't grown into anything worthwhile."

"They also said your emotional intelligence is pitifully low and that you have a weak personality."

Her words struck me like a slap across the face. My body trembled and I instinctively took several steps back, nearly losing my balance. She wasn’t wrong.

I was plain-looking—thin, frail and easily lost in a crowd. I never knew how to speak up for myself, never had the grace or charm that drew people in. But I remembered what the professor once said: When life disappoints you, don’t lose your composure.

Swallowing my tears, I forced myself to stay calm. "Fine, fine. Since they love you so much, I won’t fight for it."

"I don’t care about the position of the cherished daughter."

With that, I turned my head and walked away. Behind me, Celline's triumphant laughter rang out, but I refused to let it affect me.

A few days later, while my parents were away on a trip, I completed all the paperwork necessary to leave the country. Before stepping out of the house for the last time, I left a farewell letter on the table. That was the last act I performed as their daughter.

***

Half a month later.

Mom and Dad returned from their business trip, dressed in their usual casual clothes, pushing open the door with bright smiles.

"Little Feather, my sweet girl, Mommy’s home!"

"And Daddy bought you snacks this time. You little glutton, you must be excited!"

But there was no response. There was no daughter running up to greet them with a hug, no cheerful voice saying, "Mommy, Daddy, welcome home!"

No one pouring them a glass of water or massaging their shoulders after their travels.

Only a single letter lay quietly on the table. Dad frowned as he picked it up and unfolded the paper.

[By the time you read this letter, I will be far away.

Celline is beautiful and graceful, the perfect daughter to uphold your reputation.

You chose to favor her, to enrich her and I won’t hold that against you.

But I refuse to let that define me.

I am going to chase my own dreams.

Don’t miss me. Don’t look for me.]

I hadn’t poured my grievances onto the page. What was the point? There had been more than enough pain already.

Dad’s face drained of color.

"This isn’t good!"

"Little Feather is gone!"

"She... she knows about Celline!"