Introduction

After returning from a holiday trip, my mother suddenly told me my cousin was studying abroad.

She used my savings.

I strongly objected, but my parents ignored my protests and handed my bank card to my aunt.

Three years later, my cousin returned, having completed her studies. She met a wealthy man in Atlanta City and built a successful career and a comfortable life.

Meanwhile, my parents’ interference cost me both my postgraduate entrance exam and my civil service exam. I was forced into an arranged marriage with a man my aunt introduced, becoming nothing more than a "yellow-faced woman" burdened with endless housework.

During Memorial Day, when I returned home to pay respects to our ancestors, I overheard my mother kneeling before my grandfather’s tomb, crying:

“Dad, don’t worry. I took good care of my sister. I did everything you wanted me to.”

——

Main Text

I silently made my way up the hillside toward the middle of the mountain, where my grandfather’s tombstone stood.

From a distance, I saw my parents kneeling before the grave, burning paper money in their hands.

“Dad, don’t worry. I did as you asked—to be patient and care for my sister.”

“Now, her daughter Julia Long has returned from studying abroad. She has a good job and married well. She’ll have a lifetime of happiness.”

My father, busy preparing offerings, bowed to my grandfather’s tombstone.

“Dad, please watch over us and bless Nadia Nolan from heaven.”

My mother scoffed. “Enough. Don’t mention that unlucky girl. Just look at Julia and then at her—what an embarrassment. She failed the civil service exam, failed the postgraduate exam. At least Julia had the drive to stay abroad and bring back a rich husband. If we let her come, she’ll just bring bad luck.”

My father chuckled, trying to calm her down.

“Yes, yes. Don’t be angry. Dad is still watching.”

But my mother was indifferent. “If I hadn’t paid for Julia’s education, would she be this successful now? Julia was destined for wealth. It proves my decision was right.”

“You can’t blame the child,” my father sighed. “It was Nadia’s money you used for Julia’s studies. Of course, she’d feel resentful.”

“But I couldn’t let Julia suffer. My sister is my only sibling!”

I had heard these words too many times to count. Each syllable cut deep, each sentence lashed at my heart. I thought I had grown numb to their cruelty. But standing there, I still felt the unbearable ache.

It should have been me. I was supposed to study abroad.

I still remember that moment—how my mother forced my aunt to take my bank card in front of me.

All the scholarships I had earned, the money from my part-time jobs, the savings I had set aside for my postgraduate studies—gone.

My mother tricked me into handing it over.

She had always loved Julia more. That much I had known since childhood. But watching her give away my future so effortlessly, with my father’s silent approval, made me wonder:

What was I to this family? A mere stepping stone? A burden?

To my mother, I was nothing but a fool.

I was her biological daughter, the one closest to her by blood, yet she always chose others over me. All she left me were wounds and sharp edges.

Lost in thought, I almost missed a step. The mountain path was damp, and overgrown with weeds. As I made my way up again, I slipped. Pain shot through my ankle as it swelled instantly.

“Who’s there?”

My mother’s voice rang out sharply, snapping me back to reality. They had noticed me.

The moment my mother saw me, her face twisted in anger.

“I told you not to come, and yet here you are!”

Without a word, I placed a large basket of gold ingots on the ground—the ones I had carefully folded, one by one.

She looked at me with nothing but disgust.

"Take it away. My father doesn’t need your things. Julia has already burned offerings for him. Take it away!"

With a single kick, my mother sent the gold ingots I had folded all night scattering onto the ground.

In the silent mountain, I was the only one left, kneeling in the dirt, rubbing my swollen ankle as I picked up the paper ingots now covered in mud.

Fortunately, I managed to make it down the mountain before sunset.

Today was Memorial Day, and as was tradition, our family gathered for a meal at the old house.

As soon as I stepped into the yard, my mother poked her head out and snapped, "Why are you so late? Everyone’s been waiting for you!"

I looked inside. My aunt sat in the living room beside Julia, who was pregnant, while her proud husband lounged beside her. My parents hovered around them, eagerly handing them melon seeds and fruit, laughing and chatting as if entertaining honored guests.

Meanwhile, my husband, Nate Nolan, lay sprawled on a single-seater sofa, glued to his phone, idly shaking our daughter’s walker with his foot.

The moment she saw me, my daughter pouted and let out an aggrieved cry.

I ignored the pain in my swollen ankle, hurried forward, and scooped her into my arms, gently soothing her.

Looking at the warmth shared among the family—the laughter, the doting smiles—I felt an ache rise in my chest. My daughter and I were nothing more than outsiders in this household. No, perhaps even less than that.

Julia rested a hand on her slightly rounded belly and smirked. "Oh, look at her—just because she gave birth to a daughter, she treats her like a rare treasure. So delicate."

My aunt burst into laughter. "Pfft—"

And my mother, wiping tears of amusement, practically collapsed against the sofa’s armrest. "Who says she doesn’t? Every single day, she cradles that child like she’s made of glass. I’m her grandmother, but I can’t even scold her."

"Mom," I said, my voice tight with restraint. "She’s just a child. It wouldn’t take much effort for you to—"

Before I could finish, Nate shifted his posture, scrolling on his phone without looking up. "Enough. Go cook already. I’m starving."

The resentment and exhaustion boiled inside me, but there was nowhere to release it.

With no choice, I secured my daughter to my back with a sling and made my way to the kitchen. My entire body ached—my waist sore, my legs weak from climbing the mountain all day—but no one seemed to care. The weight of sadness pressed down on me.

This house—this so-called home—felt nothing like one. It was nothing but an icy, lifeless shell.

I stirred the pot, my tears falling silently into the steam.

Do I really deserve to live like this?

From the living room, Julia’s laughter rang out, pulling me back to memories I had long buried.

I remembered how, as a child, my mother had favored Julia in everything.

Back then, we all lived together in my grandparents’ old house. Julia, taller and more graceful than me, always stood out.

I was left to wear her discarded shoes.

She outgrew them too quickly, and my mother never once thought of buying me a pair of my own.

So, every morning before school, I stuffed crumpled paper inside my socks just to keep my heels from slipping out.

I didn’t want anyone to laugh at me.

But my mother would sneer, saying I walked too timidly, that I lacked the poise and elegance of Julia.

What she always forgot—or chose to ignore—was that the money for Julia’s beautiful, well-fitting clothes and shoes came from my aunt’s endless requests.

My mother never had money for me. But she always had money for them.

My aunt didn’t work. When she ran out of funds, she would turn to my mother, sending Julia to act pitifully and beg for pocket money.

As a child, I had no concept of money. My mother constantly spoke about how hard life was for my aunt, and how we had to help because we were family.

And so, I believed her.

I thought it was normal.

But then, my mother lied.

She told me we were drowning in mortgage debt. She made me take out my savings—everything I had set aside for my future.

And she didn’t hesitate.

She handed it all over to my aunt, just so Julia could have the chance to study abroad.

I realized something was terribly wrong.

Desperate, I threatened to end my life if my mother didn’t tell me the truth. She looked at me coldly and said,

"Julia wants to go abroad, so you should give it to her."

"Your grandfather’s last wish before he died was for me to take good care of your aunt. You know that better than anyone."

"Your aunt has had a hard life. Julia is better than you—why are you so jealous?"

I cried, I begged, I went on a hunger strike, but all I got in return was ridicule colder than winter.

That bank card held every scholarship and paycheck I had saved since high school—250,000 yuan. That was my tuition, my dream, my future.

Yet my mother only scoffed.

"What are you starving for? Your sister is the one who’s nearly starving!"

She stood at the kitchen door, her voice full of impatience.

"Bring out whatever you’ve cooked and let your sister eat first. She’s delicate—she can’t stand being hungry!"

She looked at Julia with nothing but distress.

Sixteen dishes were spread across the table. By the time I finished preparing the last one and placed it down, only scraps remained—some garlic, chili, and watery vegetable soup.

I picked through the leftovers, searching for anything edible.

"Forget it," I told myself.

It had always been like this—before marriage and after.

After eating their fill, my mother reached out and touched Julia’s slightly bulging belly, her eyes full of adoration.

"Oh, Julia, I have a feeling this baby is a boy. Not bad, not bad—much better than your sister."

Julia blushed and tilted her chin slightly, her voice dripping with false humility.

"Aunt, don’t say that. Boys and girls are the same, as long as my husband likes them."

Her husband, the well-dressed and ever-smug son-in-law, chuckled, patting Julia’s hand. "Boys are good, boys are good..."

From the other side of the room, laughter erupted as Nate scrolled through his phone. I turned to look at him.

I had been an outstanding student all my life—top of my class, disciplined, determined. And yet, I ended up married to this town’s infamous good-for-nothing, a man who never even finished junior high.

That year, I should never have married him.

When my dream of studying abroad was crushed, I didn’t give up. I set my sights on becoming a civil servant.

But when the political background check was announced, someone maliciously reported me.

Rumors spread like wildfire. My mother dragged me to my grandfather’s grave, forcing me to kneel.

"Swear!" she demanded. "Swear that you will never take the postgraduate exam, never take the civil service exam, and never bring shame upon me again!"

Later, I secretly moved into a rented apartment to prepare for my postgraduate entrance exam. When my mother found out, she burned all my study materials, nearly setting my room on fire.

Then, my four-year relationship ended.

His parents disapproved of me. My aunt wasted no time, scheming behind my back.

"I've had someone calculate your daughter’s fate," she told my mother. "She’s destined for hardship. Her path is to marry and fulfill her duty as a wife. That’s the only way."

And my mother believed her.

They took my dowry deposit while I was away.

That night, my mother did something she had never done before—she cooked an elaborate meal and shared a few drinks with me, her voice unusually gentle.

"As long as you listen to me, I’ll find you a good husband," she promised.

Naively, I thought she had finally freed herself from my aunt’s control.

I didn’t know then that I was nothing more than bait.

That night, a man entered my room.

That man later became Nate.

—

A sudden commotion jolted me back to the present.

"Oh, baby—"

My daughter was at my aunt’s feet, coughing violently, her tiny face flushed red.

"It’s just a little mustard. Girls can’t be this weak. She’s too delicate!" my aunt scoffed.

I rushed forward, scooping my daughter into my arms. She sobbed, struggling to breathe. I frantically searched for water—there was nothing but wine on the table.

"Aunt! How can a one-year-old eat mustard? She’s just a baby! Do you have any conscience at all?"

My mother’s hand struck my face before I could react.

"Pa—!"

The stinging slap rang through the room.

Her voice was sharp, unforgiving. "You are getting out of control! How dare you speak like that?"

Tears welled in my eyes as I held my daughter close.

"She’s only one! What if she choked?" My voice trembled with rage. "How can you be so heartless?"