Since the tickets were tied to her ID, she got the refund notification too.

The next moment, she stormed up to me, waving her phone in disbelief.

“You canceled the trip! It’s only five days away! What are you doing?”

For the first time, I didn’t rush to explain.

I just calmly watched her shouting at me, suddenly finding it all meaningless.

Under my gaze, she shifted uncomfortably.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing.”

I smiled, my voice steady.

“I have work next week. Can’t go on the trip, so I canceled.”

She immediately grew frantic.

“Why cancel ours if you can’t go? Emily and I can still go!”

“You won’t go, and you won’t let others go either?”

I suddenly remembered the summer after middle school.

Emily had seen Disneyland on her phone and begged to go.

Mom instantly bought tickets to take her.

I thought I was included. I packed happily, even helped Emily pack her clothes.

But on the day of departure, I realized Mom hadn’t bought me a ticket.

She said earnestly,

“You’re too old for Disneyland.”

“Besides, you’ve been to places like that before. Emily hasn’t, so I’ll just take her.”

When I looked upset, she frowned.

“A trip like that is expensive. One less person saves a lot. Why can’t you be considerate of your mom?”

“I raised you both on my own. If you really want to go, make your own money and go later!”

Her words made me feel worthless and guilty.

That summer, while they were gone, I barely spent a few dollars on cucumbers and tomatoes, gnawed on plain noodles without even adding vegetables.

When Mom and Emily returned, glowing with excitement, they discussed all the fun things.

When I didn’t understand, Mom looked at me with disdain.

“You really don’t know as much as your sister.”

But she forgot—

When I was little, the “playgrounds” I’d seen were just makeshift rides in the village.

Disneyland? Emily had never been.

But neither had I.

Back in the present, I returned her words with a smile.

“Mom, aren’t you a little old for trips like this? You and Emily have already been, it’s all the same stuff.”

“I work hard enough to support this family. If you really want to go, buy your own tickets.”

At my words, Mom jabbed her finger at me, furious.

“You’re my daughter! Isn’t it your duty to support me? Emily doesn’t earn money yet!”

True—Emily had just gotten into college. She wasn’t earning yet.

But when I had just graduated middle school, neither was I.

“You’re so stingy! I—”

She was about to continue scolding me when we both heard the slam of the front door.

Mom rushed out.

“Emily, why do you look upset?”

“I don’t want to get a part-time job! After graduation, I just want to relax and have fun, not earn tuition!”

Her voice was full of resentment, but Mom quickly nodded in approval.

“Then don’t. When your sister makes money, she’ll pay your tuition!”

In the past, I would’ve felt guilty for them.

I would’ve happily emptied my savings, thinking I was finally useful.

But the truth was—it didn’t matter.

Their hearts were cold.

They would never remember my sacrifices.

Without hesitation, I refused.

“I’m not paying her tuition. Mom, you’ll have to cover it.”

“I don’t have money!”

She glared at me, eyes full of disappointment.

Before, that look would’ve made me give in.

But this time, I just shook my head.

“Then let Emily get a part-time job. Work two months, play for one—it’s still enough.”

But Emily refused instantly.

“I won’t! Who wants to be a laborer?”

Seeing me unmoved, Mom hurled her keychain at me.

“Are you trying to destroy this family?”

“I raised you, fed you, paid for your schooling, and now you can’t help pay for your sister’s? How selfish can you be?”

“All you care about is money now!”

The keys hit me hard, but instead of pain, I felt relief—

Like a dam finally breaking inside me.

I looked at her, eyes red but smiling.

“Mom, do you remember when my teacher told you I had real talent for painting?”

“That was years ago. Why bring it up now?”

Her eyes darted away, her voice weak.

But I couldn’t help remembering.

When I was little, my art teacher saw my potential and suggested I study it seriously.

For the first time, someone recognized me. I blushed and told Mom, expecting encouragement.

But she only scowled.

“Sophia, you haven’t even mastered schoolwork, and now you want to draw? Don’t you feel guilty after everything I’ve done for you?”

“Art costs money. I can’t afford that! That teacher of yours is ruining you!”

The first sketchbook my teacher gave me—she shredded it to pieces.

She said ordinary people like us couldn’t afford such dreams.

Even when I consistently ranked top of my grade, she was never satisfied if I didn’t get perfect scores.

But Emily was different.

When she scored average, Mom took her out for celebratory feasts.

When I wanted to come along, Mom frowned.

“You’re preparing for college entrance exams. Go study. You can eat whatever you want after.”

Later, when Emily was caught listening to music in class, the teacher called home.

Mom was thrilled, listened to her sing off-key, and then hired an expensive private music tutor that very night.

“My Emily is going to be a famous singer one day! She needs the best training!”

She bragged to neighbors about Emily’s singing, glowing with pride.

If anyone mentioned I was good at painting too, she brushed it off.

“What? Sophia just wastes time. Luckily, I never let her pursue it, or she wouldn’t have even gotten into college!”

Nurturing?

I laughed bitterly.

“I paid for all my own college expenses. Why can’t Emily do the same?”

“If you love nurturing talent so much, Mom, why don’t you get a job yourself and fund Emily’s dream of being a singer?”

“You’re getting more and more ungrateful!”

Fuming, she grabbed Emily and slammed the door.

“Let’s eat out. Let her do whatever she wants!”

The noisy house fell silent.

For once, I felt at peace.

I received Mr. Johnson’s documents and packed my luggage.

Four days left until I moved to the U.S.

When they came back the next morning, Mom dropped a bag on the table.

“You haven’t eaten, right? Emily and I bought you something—eat it while it’s hot.”

Maybe she wanted to make peace.

But she gave me a look as if it was some great favor.

As I opened the bag, she was already talking like usual.

“We were out all night, and you didn’t even worry? You should be grateful. Your sister thought of you and brought food for you.”

“In my opinion, you’re just too selfish. Your sister is far more considerate than you.”

I looked at the bag of pork dumplings and felt nauseated.

When I set the bag aside and headed straight into the kitchen to cook, she grew agitated.

“Your sister and I thought of you, and this is the attitude you give us?”

I kept my expression flat.

“I don’t eat pork dumplings.”

As a child, I loved meat, but Mom thought it was too expensive.

So she would always buy fatty cuts of pork that others didn’t want.

I couldn’t stomach the fat and would throw up every time.

She would just frown and call me picky and dramatic.

From then on, I never touched pork dumplings or any fatty meat again.

“You just have to nitpick, don’t you? Turning good intentions into insults! I told you your sister shouldn’t bother being nice to you!”

From the corner of my eye, I caught Emily smirking at me with satisfaction.

“Sophia, why can’t you just eat what’s given to you? Mom bought you something nice, and you won’t eat it—aren’t you only making things harder on yourself?”

I gave a short laugh.

“Dumplings count as something nice? I remember Mom often sneaking you out to restaurants. Don’t tell me she never bought you anything better.”

Yes, for Emily, Mom always spared no expense.

When I was eating pickles with bread, she was feeding Emily the most expensive formula.

When I thought cafeteria noodles were a treat, Mom was already taking her out for barbecue.

Emily hated fat, so Mom would carefully trim it away. She ate meat every meal, while I got whatever vegetables were left over.

All because, as the older sister, I was expected to yield to her.

Later, Mom even pointed at me in front of relatives and complained:

“Why doesn’t this child ever want to eat something good? Emily just loves meat.”

“I guess that’s just fate. Emily was born lucky.”

“Sophia was just born to suffer.”

But was that suffering my choice?

Ignoring their colorful faces, I dragged my suitcase out the door.

Their curses were shut behind it.

And I felt nothing but exhilaration.

I thought I could spend the last few days in peace, but the next evening at the hotel, scrolling through videos, I saw my mom again.

This time she wasn’t doing the “Three Glasses of Wine” toast.

Instead, she posted two clips accusing her eldest daughter—me—of terrible behavior in the past two days.

Both went viral.

As a “suffering mother,” she drew endless sympathy, and many urged her to livestream and chat about it.

So there she was, on livestream, speaking passionately.

“We mothers are too forgiving. If I’d known she’d turn out this way, I’d never have given birth to her!”

Beside her, Emily played the role of innocent little angel, handing her water with just the right touch of pity, moving the viewers to tears.

“Good thing you have another daughter, otherwise you’d be heartbroken.”

“Right, if this were ancient times, that eldest daughter would’ve been cast out by family law long ago. How dare she act so arrogantly today?”

The comments flooded in.

Some even dug up my photos, my college, and where I worked.

A few went so far as to find my phone number, sending abusive texts and calling to harass me.

The mother and daughter were delighted, though they acted pitiful, thanking viewers for “standing up for them.”

Just before the livestream ended, a famous influencer entered the room.

“Hello, I’ve got a reality show about families that would be perfect for you. Would you consider coming on so we can talk things through with your eldest daughter?”

“Of course, of course!” Mom said eagerly, nodding nonstop, even suggesting Emily join too.

“In a family, there are no grudges that last overnight. Emily and I have never given up on her!”