Chapter 3

There was no way I was going to have any of that meal.

My dad decided to make noodles for themselves, leaving me out.

They ate at the coffee table while I silently cleaned up the spilled food.

The phone rang.

I glanced at it, picked it up, and went to the balcony.

It was my primary doctor calling.

"Kiera, are you sure you want to give up treatment? Even though it's late-stage, we can still try, at least to ease your pain... "

"Professor Huang, I can't afford it, " I declined directly.

Silence followed from the other end.

I whispered, "Professor Huang, thank you... but I've really decided to give up. Also, about the paid organ donation I asked you about last time... "

Professor Huang sighed, "For a donation involving multiple organs like yours, the legal compensation can reach over a million. If the recipient is willing, it could be even more... "

"I only need eight hundred thousand."

Yes, I only needed eight hundred thousand.

Because I owed my mom exactly that amount.

This figure was precisely calculated three days before I started university.

It was then that I learned every single expense of mine had been meticulously recorded.

A hair tie cost fifty cents, a school uniform a hundred and twenty, and living expenses at my aunt's house were eighteen hundred a month...

Even the number of toothpicks I used had a price tag.

Besides recording expenses, my mom kept track of grievances.

She even kept a 'grudge ledger, ' noting every slight.

In it, she noted the time I ate a pot of ribs, how I opposed my brother's birth, and how my reckless behavior led to the tragic deaths of my uncle's family.

My mom tallied up my expenses and added her worries, anger, and those recorded grudges.

After thorough calculation, she arrived at the figure of eight hundred thousand.

That day, my mom threw a thick hardcover notebook at my face.

"Look at you, living off me, yet becoming my enemy!

From today on, fend for yourself. You're an adult now, and I won't be taking care of you anymore. Also, remember you owe me eight hundred thousand for raising you!"

Back from the balcony, Laurie asked, "Sis, why were you sneaking around? Got a boyfriend?"

My mom snorted, her triangular eyes rolling at me.

"No one would seriously date her; she's only good for a casual fling!"

Sometimes, I really wished she wasn't my biological mother.

Maybe then it wouldn't hurt so much.

Just then, my mom seemed to remember something.

She turned to Laurie, her eyes smiling, "Sweetheart, when are you and Dustin getting engaged?"

My mom's expressions were like flipping a switch, harsh for me and sweet for my sister.

She switched seamlessly.

Laurie pouted, "His sister isn't well. She's having surgery soon, so we'll wait until after that."

Laurie had found herself a wealthy young man and was close to marriage.

Where's the justice in that?

Why does someone as naturally malicious as her sail smoothly, while someone like me can only struggle in the mire?

My mom patted Laurie's hand.

"Sweetheart, didn't you get your driver's license? Tomorrow, your aunt will give you an engagement gift. I calculated it; if we pay in full, that car will cost just over a hundred thousand!"

My hand paused as I wiped the floor.

I looked up at my mom and slowly spoke, my voice distant as if it wasn't my own.

"Mom, didn't you say we had no money?"

Half a year ago, after fainting three times in a week, my counselor forcibly sent me to the hospital.

Only then did I find out I had a tumor in my brain.

The doctor said surgery was urgent.

Back then, I called my mom.

"Mom, I'm sick. I need surgery, and it'll cost ten thousand. Could you lend it to me... "

But before I could explain further, my mom interrupted, "Where would we have the money?

Your cousin has had leg pain for months and hasn't seen a doctor. What's so special about a headache? Don't think you can trick me into giving you money, and don't forget you still owe me eight hundred thousand!"

So, they had no money to give me ten thousand for surgery but could afford to buy Laurie a car worth a hundred thousand?

My mom was enraged by my questioning.

She came over and snatched the dirty rag from my hand, slapping it across my face.

"Looking for money? Why not use your 'skills' at thieving? Can't steal any? Why not hit up your so-called boyfriends for cash?

Oh, I get it, you're not worth anything, right? Just good enough for free rides!"

Her mouth kept running.

Marked as a thief and worthless, those labels stuck with me.

Ten years now.

From middle school to high school, then university.

Classmates came and went, but my mom would bring it up now and then.

Because she wanted me to remember... for the rest of my life.