It was a stifling July morning with no breeze in the air.

Wearing only my pajamas, my hair a tangled mess, I walked along the small country road. The villagers working in the fields called out to me.

“Hey, Anna, what did you do this time to get kicked out by your mom so early?”

This wasn’t new to them. I was often thrown out of the house, not because I’d done something wrong but because my sister would start trouble, and my mother would always take her side.

Every time, I’d hear my mother’s screams telling me to get out.

Somehow, whenever something went wrong, I was always to blame.

Ignoring their taunts, I trudged on, not knowing where to go.

The world felt vast, but there was no place for me to belong.

Why was I even born if there was no room for me?

A stray mother cat darted across the path, her kittens following closely behind. Even animals knew to protect their young. Why did my mother hate me so much?

I followed the cat up the hill until I lost track of her.

I collapsed onto a large rock, staring at the sheer drop below. I was dying anyway – what did it matter if I jumped?

But I didn’t. There was still one person in this world who cared about me, and no matter what, I had to see him one last time. My father.

Unlike my mother’s hatred, my father loved me deeply.

He worked far away most of the year, but whenever he returned, he always brought gifts.

If my sister got one, I got one too.

Whenever he bought new clothes, he’d buy two – one for my sister and one for me.

When he took us out, he’d hold my sister’s hand in one hand and mine in the other.

With him around, I felt just as cherished as my sister.

A sharp pain twisted in my stomach, forcing my eyes shut. Tears streamed down my face, falling into the abyss below.

Suddenly, the sound of rain woke me.

Fat raindrops splattered on my face, and I opened my eyes to the sight of the pouring rain. Finally, I broke down and cried.

“Dad, I miss you so much.”

I hid on the hill for three days and nights before my dad finally found me, weak and barely alive, on the fourth morning, leading a group of villagers.

I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything and had caught a fever from the rain. I was delirious, but I’d never forget the warmth of my father’s arms as he held me.

“Anna, it’s okay. I’m taking you home,” he kept saying.

I forced my eyes open just a little, and the bright sunlight fell across his familiar face. He was like a warm ray of light breaking through all my darkness.

At that moment, I felt that even if I died, it would be worth it.

“Dad...” I whispered before everything went black.

When I woke up again, I was back in my bed.

Dad was sitting beside me, and I clung to his hand like it was my lifeline.

My mother pretended to care, bringing me some ginger tea to warm me up, her face painted with concern.

“Anna, you’ve really been acting up lately, disappearing without a word. You know how worried I was,” she lied through her teeth.

In truth, she hadn’t even bothered to tell Dad that I was missing, nor had she called the police. She hadn’t searched for me at all. She’d probably hoped I’d never come back.

It was our kind neighbor, Julia, who noticed I was gone and called my father.

Mom shot me a warning look, afraid I’d spill the truth. Then she put on her sweetest smile and urged Dad to hurry back to work.

He had taken time off to come home and check on me, and now that I seemed to be okay, he stood up to leave.

But I couldn’t let go of his hand.

I knew that if I did, I’d lose him forever.

I made up my mind to expose my mother’s lies.

It wasn’t about the chance to go to college – after all, I was dying. I just wanted to remain the pride of my father’s heart.

“Dad, I didn’t score in the low range. I actually did really well. I could’ve made it into a top university.”

My mother’s face twisted in rage. She slammed the ginger tea down, and it splashed across my face.

It didn’t hurt. Instead, it felt oddly satisfying.

For once, her mask slipped in front of Dad.

My sister, afraid of losing her chance at college, started crying and throwing a fit.

The house descended into chaos, and everyone waited for Dad to be the voice of reason.

I believed in him. I was sure my loving father would be angry and demand justice for me.

But reality hit me like a punch to the gut. He gently pried my fingers from his hand, avoiding my gaze.

“Anna,” he said quietly, “It’s too late to change things now. I’m sorry.”

My mind went blank.

The father I’d always seen as fair and just had chosen my sister over me.

I felt the ground collapse beneath me.

A metallic taste rose in my throat, and I coughed up blood. I turned away, wiping my mouth with a tissue as the door closed behind him.

The room was silent, and I looked at the bloodstained tissue in my hand.

“Is this finally the end?” I laughed, but tears blurred my vision. “Why, Dad? Why are you just like her?”

Dad no longer loved me. No one cared about me in this world.

Maybe I really was just an extra person all along.

I drifted in and out of consciousness for a long time, only waking up when a parched throat forced me to.

Desperate for water, I struggled out of bed, stumbling along the walls as I left my room.

In the kitchen, I overheard my dad, speaking in hushed tones over the phone.

“Hey, honey, I’ll be back soon. Could you pick up our son for me?”

My heart froze. In that instant, everything clicked into place.

My dad, the one I thought loved me the most, had another family – a wife, a child.

So that’s why he always took my sister’s side. He was afraid the truth would get out, and it would ruin things for him.

I was nothing but a convenient sacrifice, a means to keep his two worlds in balance.

The realization hit me like a slap.

The man I believed cared about me never truly did.

Ha! What a perfect calculation.

I had always believed that my dad loved me the most, but the truth was, he never really loved me at all.

All along, I was nothing but a pathetic fool, abandoned by love.

He turned and spotted me, his face going pale. “How much did you hear?” he demanded, trying to sound authoritative but failing.

“Dad... I’m dying,” I cried out, hoping that maybe, just maybe, he’d wake up to the reality and care for me in my last moments.

But he merely frowned, frustrated. “Anna, stop making a scene. Can’t you just be reasonable for once?”

My last shred of hope shattered into a thousand pieces.

At that moment, my mom walked in, her mask finally slipping as she snapped, “All these years, and you’re still around? Always pretending to be at death’s door just to get attention.”

My sister clapped mockingly, sneering, “Finally, good riddance! Maybe now I won’t be embarrassed every time someone asks about you.”

The three people I called family turned on me, united in their disdain.

Fury surged through me, nearly making me cough up blood again.

Stumbling, I turned on my heel and staggered out of the house.

I left that hellhole behind without a shred of regret.

I wasn’t looking back.