Mommy stormed home in a rage.

Daddy was still playing video games.

When he saw her come back, he didn’t even turn his head.

“Wasn’t Cassie at the playground?”

“She’s dead!

“That damn girl—when she comes back, I’ll beat her to death!”

Daddy’s fingers never paused on the keyboard.

“Don’t talk like that.

“You’re at fault too. If you hadn’t altered the dress you promised Cassie to fit Bella instead, Cassie wouldn’t have run out in anger.”

Mommy exploded at the slightest provocation and suddenly hurled a sofa cushion at Daddy.

“How is that my fault?”

“That performance dress was something Bella urgently needed! Cassie has so many dresses—what difference does one more make?”

“When you put it that way, Cassie wasn’t wrong to say you were biased!” Daddy retorted.

“Biased? Bella is younger. What’s wrong with letting her have her way? Shouldn’t Cassie, as the older sister, know better?

“I spend tens of thousands every year on Cassie’s tutoring—doesn’t that count as favoring her too?”

“Know better? Is that what you call being scolded so badly she doesn’t dare come home?” Daddy challenged.

“That’s because she has a guilty conscience! Who knows where she’s hiding, having fun on purpose just to anger me!” Mommy replied in growing anger.

My parents shouted back and forth, neither giving an inch.

They did not notice a small figure crouched in the corner of the living room, covering her ears in terror.

She was still wearing the dress I had never worn before—the one that had been taken back to the mall and exchanged for a smaller size.

I drifted over, hugged my knees, and curled up across from her, staring at the dress on her body.

It was blue, studded with rhinestones, and very beautiful as it glittered brightly.

Like the dress Cinderella wore in cartoons.

Daddy had promised long ago that he would buy it for me if I passed my exam.

I studied desperately for a long time, and finally, I passed.

But on the day the dress arrived, Bella cried and said she wanted to wear a princess dress for her kindergarten performance.

Without another word, Mommy took the dress and the receipt and went to the mall to exchange it for the smallest size.

“Cassie, you’re the older sister. Give in to Bella. I’ll buy you something better next time.”

There was no next time.

I lowered my head and looked at the dress I was wearing, washed until it had faded.

At the lower right corner were a few ink stains splashed onto the hem by my deskmate, stains that no amount of washing could remove.

Bella’s expression grew more and more unfocused.

Every time she heard my name, her body trembled.

At last, she could no longer bear it and burst into loud, wrenching sobs.

“Cassie ran! Cassie ran away!”

My parents’ fierce argument came to an abrupt halt.

Mommy hurried over, pulled Bella into her arms, and gently patted her back.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I was wrong. I scared you, didn’t I?

“It’s all Cassie’s fault for running off. When she comes back, we’ll punish her!”

Daddy also walked over.

He sighed, his voice weary.

“All right, all right. Don’t cry. Tomorrow, Daddy’ll buy you a doll, okay?”

But Bella cried harder than ever, hysterical, endlessly calling out to me.

That night, Bella developed a high fever.

Mommy held Bella’s hand, her face drawn with exhaustion as she stroked it again and again.

In the silence, she sounded as if she were talking to herself, her voice hoarse as she complained, “Cassie has always been trouble. Now she won’t even come home, and she still has to torment us like this…

“If she hadn’t been so disobedient and run off, how would she have frightened you like this?

“How would you have gotten a fever…

“If she had even a shred of conscience, she should come back on her own and admit her mistake…”

I stood on the other side of the hospital bed, watching Mommy’s worn yet gentle profile.

When she looked at Bella, the pain and tenderness in her eyes were so unmistakably real.

I had longed for that kind of tenderness countless times in my dreams, even if only once.

Now that I saw it with my own eyes, it was not for me.

A sharp ache rose in my chest.

So it turned out that even ghosts could feel sorrow.

I slowly reached out my hand, wanting to touch Mommy’s hair, loosened by exhaustion, wanting to tell her to stop scolding me, as I was never coming back.

My fingertips still passed straight through, causing not even a ripple.

Apart from making Bella sick and giving Mommy one more reason to complain about me, my death left nothing at all.

The next day, my parents discharged Bella from the hospital.

She looked drained and vacant.

As Daddy folded the princess dress, his fingertips brushed against a patch of stiff, dark red fabric at the cuff.

After a long moment, he called out to Mommy.

“Come take a look at this… is this… is this blood?”

Mommy leaned in.

After a while, her face turned deathly pale.

She grabbed Bella’s arm and began checking her frantically.

“Bella, tell Mommy—where are you hurt? Let Mommy see!”

Daddy also panicked and examined Bella’s other arm, even lifting her hair to check her scalp.

Bella only stared back with hollow, empty eyes, letting them move her as they pleased.

She didn’t cry, didn’t protest, and didn’t speak.

They found no wounds at all.

That blood did not belong to Bella.

I drifted over and looked at it as well.

That bloodstain must have been mine, from when that monster grabbed both Bella and me.

He had seized my hair and yanked it back violently.

In the burst of pain, I lost my balance, and my forehead slammed hard against a jutting corner of stone in the wall.

Warm liquid instantly blurred my left eye.

A few drops of blood splashed from my forehead and landed on the blue sleeve Bella was clutching tightly.

“Cassie!”

Bella’s piercing cry became the last clear sound in my memory.

After that, everything turned chaotic and dark.

I only remembered using my final strength to shove Bella toward the crowded plaza.

Then more fists fell, along with more pain.

When I became conscious again, I was floating lightly, crouched in front of the slice of cake Mommy had saved for me.

“It’s not Bella’s…”

Daddy’s eyes were blank, his voice trembling as he asked Mommy, “Then whose is it?”

Mommy didn’t answer.

She suddenly turned to look at Bella, who kept calling out my name over and over again.

She was clutching the water bottle, shaking uncontrollably.

Unlike the car ride to the hospital, filled with scolding and cursing, the return trip had been deathly silent.

I followed them into the residential compound.

Just as we reached the unit entrance, we ran into the neighbor’s college-aged son across the hall.

He was about to ride his bicycle out.

“Mr. and Mrs. Tesla? Bella’s okay now, right?”

He stopped his bike, a simple, honest smile on his face.

“Oh, right, happy belated birthday, Mrs. Tesla.

“Yesterday, we added a lot of mango to your cake. It was Cassie’s idea. She said it’s your favorite.”

I saw Mommy’s fingers twitch violently, her nails digging almost painfully into her own palm.

The young man continued, his tone light and teasing.

“Last month, Cassie helped out at my parents’ cake shop for an afternoon. She earned a little money and was so happy, said she wanted to buy you a birthday gift.

“She even asked my mom which hand cream was best for you, since your hands crack in winter.

“Cassie’s a really nice person. She’s so thoughtful, sensible, and efficient at work.”

My parents froze completely in place.

I was a little stunned, too.

I remembered that tube of hand cream.

I had hidden it in the smallest zippered pocket deep inside my backpack, like guarding a huge, sweet secret.

Every night after finishing my homework, I would secretly take it out and touch it.

I imagined, when Mommy received it, whether for just a fleeting moment, the corners of her mouth would curl upward.

Whether she would use those hands to gently rub my hair.

Even if only once.

But now, it probably still lay quietly in that backpack, alongside my body, long dead, tucked away in some dirty corner.

Mommy opened her mouth, probably wanting to argue like usual, but this time all the harsh words stuck in her throat.

For the first time, when the subject was me, she fell silent.

Back at home, the silence continued.

Without a word, Mommy grabbed the mop and began scrubbing the floor, pressing so hard it felt like she might puncture the wood.

Daddy didn’t turn on his computer.

He sat on the sofa, then suddenly looked up at Mommy.

“Cassie hasn’t come back all night.

“She’s only nine. Where could she be hiding?”

Mommy slammed the mop to the floor and ground her teeth as she growled.

“How would I know?”

“You spend all day on that stupid game! You don’t even care when our daughter runs off!”

“I don’t care?”

Daddy stood up abruptly, his voice rising.

“Every time I try to discipline her, who says I don’t do it right?

“Who was it that swapped the dress I bought, and said the older sister should always let the younger one have her way?”

“And you? Have you ever gone to a single-parent-teacher meeting with her? Have you ever washed a single piece of her clothing?”

Their shouting remained chaotic, each trying to prove their own innocence.

Adults were ridiculous, even better at playing dirty than children.

I sat on the chandelier, swinging my legs.

Luckily, I didn’t have to grow up.

“Last year, she had a fever and was in the hospital, and you played games outside the ward for three days!”

“And you? You took Bella to the children’s playground, leaving Cassie all alone in the hospital!”

Every word cut like a knife, yet it was as if they drew some sort of satisfaction from hurting each other.

Mommy suddenly stopped, panting, and looked around the house.

On the living room wall hung Bella’s first birthday photo, the coffee table was strewn with her toys, and even the fridge was plastered with her drawings.

Where were the traces of my existence?

Daddy followed her gaze and gradually went pale.

He opened his mouth, then slumped back onto the sofa, his voice barely audible.

“Have we… have we really not been good to Cassie?”

Yes.

They hadn’t been, for a long time.

Outside the window, the wail of sirens grew faintly, then louder, coming closer.

My parents instinctively moved to the window and looked down.

Mommy’s hand clutched Daddy’s arm tightly, her lips trembling.

“It can’t be, can it?”