Entering the snack shop, my nephew dashed off like a wild horse, slipping from my hand and grabbing things everywhere.

Soon, he filled a whole basket and went to the counter. Many of the items were pricey, and he barely ate them anyway.

“Hello, that’s 1,360 dollars in total. Do you have a membership?” the cashier asked warmly.

Seeing only 800 dollars left in my WhatsApp balance, I crouched down and said gently,

“Jack, Auntie’s short on money today. Can we put some back?”

To reassure him, I even showed him my balance. I thought he’d understand, but he instantly threw a tantrum. “No! These are my favorites—I want them all! If you don’t buy them, I’ll tell Dad you’re mean!”

Frustrated, I took out a box of macarons from the basket.

“You don’t even like these. Can you put them back?”

He quickly snapped, “Those are my classmates’ favorites! You can’t put them back!”

I glanced at the price—nine tiny macarons for nearly two hundred dollars.

I said firmly, “If your classmate likes them, let him buy them himself. I don’t have that much today. Put them back, or we’re not buying anything!”

He burst into tears and ran out shouting,

“I’ll tell Dad you’re stingy! You promised to buy snacks and broke your word!”

I apologized to the cashier and rushed after him with my daughter.

But he was gone. The shop was three stops from home. Worried he’d get lost, I searched under the blazing sun, my daughter in tow, but couldn’t find him.

Finally, I texted my mom, “Mom, is Jack home yet?”

After a long while, she replied, “He’s home.”

Relieved, I finally relaxed.

But as soon as I entered the house with my daughter, a teacup flew toward me.

I couldn’t dodge. It smashed into my head, sharp pain bursting as blood streamed down my forehead.

My brother sat on the sofa, glaring.

My nephew stood beside him, sticking out his tongue smugly. He mouthed, “Serves you right!”

My mother was in the kitchen, and my father sat opposite with a magnifying glass, pretending not to see.

My daughter, frightened, whispered, “Mom, does it hurt?” Then, clenching her fists, she ran to my brother. “Uncle, what right do you have to hit my mom?”

Before he could reply, my nephew rushed up and shoved her hard in the chest.

“This is our house! You’re just a little girl—don’t yell here!”

“So what if he hit your mom? She’s a meanie! My mom said you two are useless nobodies!”

Rage surged through me. I rushed over and covered my daughter’s ears, shielding her from his vile words.

Then I glared at my nephew and scolded him,

“How dare you talk like that? Where are your manners?”

My brother shot up instantly.

Before he could swing, a powerful blow struck me from behind.

My already bleeding head slammed against the coffee table.

The room spun wildly.

Everything doubled—I might have a concussion.

When my vision steadied, I saw it clearly—

it was my father who had hit me.

He had dropped his newspaper and rushed at me just as I was scolding my nephew.

Now, wearing a look of protectiveness, my father held my nephew tightly and glared at me.

“Lily, you’re an adult—why argue with a child?”

“He’s your nephew. Can’t you just let him be?”

Holding my head, I struggled to stand and faced him.

“He just called Lulu and me worthless little bitches!”

My father’s eyes darkened.

“I heard him!”

“Children talk nonsense. Why take it to heart?”

His words stabbed me like a knife.

He heard it?

So he wasn’t even pretending anymore.

He ignored everything done to me the moment I walked in, yet jumped up the second I scolded my nephew.

As always, what they couldn’t give me as a child, they still can’t give me now.

Disheartened, I grabbed my daughter’s hand and turned to leave.

My mother came from the kitchen holding dishes, set them on the table, and hurried to stop me.

“How can you be mad at your own father?”

I dropped my daughter’s hand and pointed at my bleeding forehead.

“My brother did this to me—and you say I’m mad?”

My mother wiped her hands on her apron.

“Why did your brother hit you? Don’t you know? You promised to buy your nephew snacks—what happened?”

She narrowed her eyes at me, her tone sharp.

“Lily, I’m not saying this to criticize you, but you really are selfish!”

“Just because your brother asked for the medical reimbursement, you got angry and refused to buy snacks for your nephew! Isn’t that it?”

My eyes widened in disbelief.

So that’s what she truly thought of me?

Just then, my daughter, who had gone to pack her schoolbag, suddenly cried out.

I turned and saw my nephew biting her wrist.

Panicked, I ran over and instinctively pushed him away. Before I could ask why, my brother grabbed my hair and slapped me five times.

My mother pulled my nephew—who had fallen flat—into her arms and demanded what had happened.

It turned out he wanted the rag on my daughter’s schoolbag. When she refused, he bit her.

I thought my mother would scold him after knowing this.

But instead, she glared coldly at my daughter.

“Why couldn’t you just give it to your brother? Everything here belongs to him. You’re just a little girl—why fight him?”

Ignoring the pain, I hugged my daughter tightly. “No, it’s not like that…”

But my mother went on, “No wonder your brother hit you. Don’t you know Jack is the heart of this family?”

“So what if he took Emma’s things? It’s just a rag. It costs nothing!”

“You have one brother and one nephew. If you don’t leave your money to them, who else—some outsider?”

When she said “outsider,” her gaze lingered on my daughter.

That was my breaking point.

“How can my own daughter be an outsider? So I’ve always been one too, right? Fine—I’m leaving. Don’t expect me back!”

My mother shouted after me, “Aren’t you staying for dinner?”

I turned toward the table.

There were my brother’s favorite braised ribs and my nephew’s braised prawns—but no boiled fish.

I sneered.

“Enjoy your happy family of five. Have a great meal.”

After all, without my support, I wonder if they can still live such a comfortable life!