Chapter 3

That night, I came down with a high fever. I tried to ignore the discomfort, crawled out of my room, and knocked on Mom's door.

Mom impatiently yanked the door open, her voice full of annoyance: "What now? Keeping people awake in the middle of the night? Are you happy only when I drop dead from exhaustion?"

I quickly shook my head, explaining, "No, Mom, I just feel really unwell, I wanted to…"

Before I could finish, she cut me off: "Unwell? What's there to feel unwell about? Chloe fell and hurt her leg today, and she didn't say she was unwell. Why are you acting unwell?"

Chloe's crying came from inside the room. Mom quickly rushed in, holding Chloe and comforting her.

"Chloe, what's wrong? Does it still hurt?"

Chloe buried her head in Mom's arms, sobbing, "Mom, it hurts! It's all Lily's fault for fighting with you today. I was so upset, I wasn't watching where I was going, and that's why I fell…"

Mom wiped her tears, her angry gaze turning to me: "It's all your fault. You're just a jinx. Why don't you just die?"

Tears blurred my vision. I heard Mom close the door, and I lay there on the floor all night.

Before, when Mom used to hit me for Chloe, I thought it was just because Chloe looked like Mom, so Mom doted on her especially.

But my appearance wasn't something I could control, so I tried to achieve perfection in other things.

From the time I started school, my grades were always at the top of the class, but when I showed my report card to Mom,

Mom was busy comforting Chloe, who had ranked last in her class. My report card, showing I was first in the whole school, was casually tossed into the trash.

I made many more efforts, winning countless awards, but in Mom's eyes, there was still only Chloe.

The teacher assigned an essay about our mothers. I wrote and tore, tore and wrote on the paper.

I could never remember a single time Mom had been gentle or caring towards me…

In the end, I turned in a blank piece of paper. The teacher made me stand at the front of the class for an entire period and lectured me in front of everyone, saying I was heartless.

I stood there, listening to all my classmates' essays, and thought for the whole class if Mom truly loved me.

As I got older, I gradually began to understand that Mom didn't love me, not because I wasn't good enough.

It was because she simply didn't like me, didn't like my existence.

I thought I was going to die, but I didn't.

I continued to live cautiously like that in the house for half a year.

Half a month before Chloe's birthday, Mom started preparing everything for Chloe's party and her birthday gifts.

My eyes red, I walked past her. Mom sighed helplessly, then called me back.

"Who are you putting on that long face for?"

"Chloe's birthday is in a few days. You better be happy. Don't let me see that sour expression on your face again."

I wanted to ask Mom why she held such grand birthday parties for Chloe every year but wouldn't allow me even a small celebration.

But the words caught in my throat. I nodded obediently and returned to my room.

Behind me, Mom happily hummed a tune, continuing to prepare.

Chloe merely mentioned wanting Dad to celebrate her birthday with her, and Mom, who usually fought with Dad the moment she saw him,

actually cooked a meal herself and humbly invited Dad to the birthday party.

Even more surprisingly, Dad agreed.

I crouched in the kitchen, crying silently, tears dripping into my rice bowl. I lost all appetite.

So I just poured the remaining rice and pickles into the trash.

Mom, furious, smashed my bowl, pointing at my nose and yelling, "Lily, if you don't want to eat, get out! What do you mean by secretly throwing it away? Is my cooking not good enough for your royal taste?"

I looked at the shattered pieces on the floor, trying to explain, "No, I just wasn't hungry…"

Before I could finish, a stinging slap landed squarely on my face.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw many pieces of meat, barely touched, discarded on Chloe's plate…