Breaking Free from My Controlling Mother

Before the college entrance exams, my mother, terrified that I would slip out of her control, threatened to take her own life unless I applied to a local university.

Desperate, I pleaded with my father to help me. At the last moment, I managed to change my application back to a distant university before the deadline.

But my mother refused to give up. She uprooted the entire family, moving us to my new school just to keep controlling every aspect of my life.

I fell into severe depression.

When she forced me to eat something I was allergic to, I gave in like the obedient daughter she expected me to be.

That was the first—and only—time I ever truly defied her.

I paid for it with my life.

But heaven took pity on me.

I was reborn.

——

Before I even opened my eyes, the familiar sound of an argument echoed in my ears.

"Andrew! You're still thinking about that whore, aren't you? Ha! It’s only been a few months, and you can’t take your eyes off her!"

"I spent half my life toiling for you, bearing your children, and this is how you repay me?"

"Do you even have a heart, Andrew?"

Even through the walls, Mom’s voice pierced my eardrums—sharp, shrill, and relentless.

As always, Dad remained silent, refusing to argue back.

Just like in my past life. He endured everything. Even when I died, he never fought back.

The "whore" my mother referred to was my aunt.

She and my father had once been deeply in love, on the verge of marriage.

But when she brought him home to meet the family, my mother took a liking to him.

She disregarded the bond between the families and drugged my father's drink. That night, she sneaked into his bedroom under the cover of darkness, and soon after, I was conceived.

My aunt’s engagement to Dad was called off. My mother got exactly what she wanted—his last name, his home, and the title of his wife.

I stared at the ceiling, feeling my heart beating strongly in my chest—the undeniable pulse of life.

I used to think I was the problem. That I was weak, incapable of breaking free.

But after dying once, I understood.

The problem wasn’t me.

It was her.

This time, I would save myself, and I would save Dad too.

I pushed myself up from the bed, turned the doorknob, and stepped outside.

My father immediately rose to check on me.

"Alyssa, how are you feeling? Your teacher called me out of nowhere, saying you fainted. I was so worried."

He placed a warm hand on my forehead, only relaxing when he felt my temperature was normal.

Sighing in relief, he continued, "I know your studies are important, but your health comes first. Don't push yourself too hard."

Mom shot me a disdainful look, her exaggerated false eyelashes fluttering.

"You? Studied so hard you fainted? That’s embarrassing! Even I feel ashamed for you."

"Next time, tell your teacher not to bother calling me about such nonsense."

I had fought tooth and nail to get into my dream university, clinging to it as my one legitimate excuse to escape.

Every teacher, every classmate had seen my effort, acknowledged my hard work.

Everyone except my mother.

No matter how much I achieved, she would never recognize my worth.

"Mom, the school is asking us to submit our college applications. Can we discuss it?"

Hearing my words, my father gave me a worried glance, rubbing my back in silent comfort.

He had always known my plans, and deep down, he had always supported them.

"Discuss? What’s there to discuss? You’ll apply to Claremont McKenna College, of course. It’s close to home, so I can take care of you."

I curled my lips into a faint smile.

Just as I expected, nothing had changed.

She had never considered what I wanted.

In my past life, she had said the exact same thing, but I refused.

I had spent all of high school fighting for one thing—freedom. The moment I got into college, I thought I’d finally won.

But with a single sentence, she shattered my dreams.

That night, we had the worst argument in our family’s history.

And I won.

I got accepted to a university two thousand kilometers away.

I thought I was finally free.

But on the second day of school, my mother arrived with her luggage, standing down my dormitory.

Not only that, she insisted she had nowhere else to stay, and so, she moved into my dorm—squeezing into my narrow, single bed.