After the divorce, Jim kept the house he'd bought before they were married. The rest of the savings went straight to Karen.

In my previous life, I was clueless about this deal.

Life post-divorce was a financial struggle.

Karen handed me just five bucks a day—enough for a plain plate of spaghetti with a side of pickles at the school cafe.

High school was tough, and I was still growing; a single bowl was never enough.

But I knew money was tight, so I kept my complaints to myself.

That was until I saw her dropping off lunch at my brother's school.

A box full of jumbo shrimp and a plate of beef that had been stewed till it fell apart.

Seeing that spread, teenage me almost drooled.

"Mom, what are you doing here? I thought you were at work?"

Karen's face flickered with embarrassment when she saw me.

"Mind your own beeswax, kiddo. Your brother needs his strength. You think cafeteria food's gonna make him tall?"

Karen got more defensive the more she spoke.

Then, patting my brother on the head, she said with a sigh, "I worry about him, you know. Ever since your dad dumped him at that boarding school, it's like he doesn't even care. That son of bitch!"

I glanced at my brother, not even out of middle school and already heavyset, then down at my own scrawny uniform.

No words came out...

I felt like a rat peeking out from the sewer, spying on someone else's happiness.

Mom, am I not your kid too?

Eventually, Karen and Jim got the divorce papers signed.

I ended up with Dad, and Johnny stayed with Mom.

She finally got what she'd always wanted—full custody of her son.

I wonder, without me there to sacrifice, will they still be happy?

Once the divorce was finalized, Jim was quick to head back to his overseas job.

He planned to send me to a boarding school, just like he had arranged for Johnny before.

But I refused.

When Grandma was still with us, she ran the household since Karen was mostly out playing cards, only coming home to eat.

When she won, she'd bring little toys for Johnny.

Picking him up, she'd coo, "Missed Mommy, sweetie?"

But when she lost, it was a different story.

I was her target, always finding some fault to yell about.

After blowing off steam, she'd lighten up and say, "Be good, Jessie. Mommy doesn't like it when you misbehave."

I was always good. I learned all the chores from Grandma, hoping it might make Karen love me a bit more.

By third grade, I was cooking full meals.

After Grandma passed, I took over all the chores.

So, looking after myself was no big deal.

Jim knew it too. He just gave me a bank card and set up a regular transfer.

That was enough. Love might be scarce, but at least I had money.