Chapter 1
The table was spread with a generous Christmas Eve feast.
A plate of slow-braised pork was brought to the table. The sauce was dark and glossy, the meat perfectly marbled with fat and lean. It was Grandma's signature dish.
Bethany's fork paused in mid-air.
She worked away from home all year, and only during the holidays could she come back and have a taste of this.
Everyone at the table was chatting and laughing, no one paying her any attention.
She carefully reached out with her fork, aiming for the plate of slow-braised pork.
Just as her fork touched a piece that looked the most tender, a sharp shout rang out. "Put it down!"
It was Grandma.
Her voice was sharp as an ice pick, piercing right through the noisy room.
Everyone's eyes snapped to Bethany and her fork, hovering in the air.
Bethany's hand trembled, and she lost her grip on the fork.
The piece of slow-braised pork she'd picked up dropped onto the table with a soft plop, rolled a couple of times, and got covered in sauce.
Grandma's face had completely darkened, her wrinkles filled with anger. "Your brother hasn't started eating yet. Your nephew hasn't eaten. You're a girl. Where are your manners?"
Bethany's mind went blank.
It was all about manners.
In this family, the manners were whatever Grandma said.
The manners were that the best things always went to her brother Myron Stephens first and to her nephew Timmy Stephens.
She, the daughter, was always last.
Myron set down his wine glass, trying to smooth things over. "Come on, Mom, Beth only gets to come home once a year. Let her have a bite. It's not a big deal."
Alyssa Stephens, his wife, immediately chimed in with a snarky tone. "That's not the way, Myron. Mom's rules are rules. Timmy's watching. What if he starts acting up?"
She picked up a large piece of pork and put it onto Timmy's plate as she spoke. "Eat up, Tim. Grandma made this especially for you."
Timmy, only five years old, asked innocently, "Why can't Aunt Bethany have any?"
Alyssa quickly covered his mouth. "Shh, kids shouldn't say things like that."
Bethany felt like a cold hand was squeezing her heart, tightening bit by bit.
She stared at the piece of meat on the table and felt like she was looking at herself.
It was unwanted, an eyesore, not even good enough to be on the table.
Her father, Gavin Stephens, stayed silent the whole time, sitting there with a grim expression, drinking.
Her mother, Jane Stephens, nudged her gently with an elbow. Her eyes were full of pleading.
Her eyes seemed to say, "Just bear it. Apologize to your Grandma."
Bethany didn't understand why she had to apologize.
She didn't know what she had done wrong.
All she wanted was one bite of slow-braised pork from her own family's table on Christmas Eve.
Was that too much to ask?
All the resentment and anger she had been holding back for over twenty years finally burst out of her, like a volcano erupting.
Her lips trembled, her voice raspy and strained. "Why can't I have any?"
Her voice was barely above a whisper, but in the dead silence of the dining room, it hit like a thunderclap.
Grandma smacked the table, and the plates and bowls rattled. "How dare you talk back to me?
"I spent all day cooking this whole spread. Who do you think it's for? Of course it's for my grandson.
"And here you are, grabbing food the second you sit down. Do you have no respect for me? Do you have no respect for this family?"
Bethany's eyes were rimmed with tears, but she lifted her chin defiantly, locking eyes with Grandma's furious glare. "Just because I picked up one piece of meat?"
"This isn't about a piece of meat!" Grandma's voice was even sharper. "This is about manners. About respect.
"Is this how your parents raised you? Running wild out there, forgetting every rule this family has?"
Finally, Gavin stirred.
He slammed his wine glass down and got to his feet.
Everyone thought he was about to step in and calm things down.
But he circled the table and came to a stop right in front of Bethany.
He didn't say a single word.
He lifted his hand.
A sharp, resounding slap hit Bethany right across the face.
The world went dead silent.
All she could hear was the sharp ringing in her ears.
Bethany's head snapped to the side from the force of the slap, her cheek burning and swelling up in an instant.
She felt something warm trickle from the corner of her mouth.
It was blood.
Bethany looked at her father, stunned.
This was the man who never even scolded her growing up, not once.
And now, over a piece of slow-braised pork she never even got to eat, he slapped her right in front of everyone.
Jane gasped and tried to step forward, but Alyssa grabbed her arm and held her back.
"Oh, come on, it's Christmas Eve. What are you doing?" Alyssa said, but her eyes were full of smug satisfaction.
Myron was stunned, his mouth hanging open, but no words came out.
Only Grandma looked pleased. "That's right. A disrespectful girl like her needs to be put in her place."
Gavin's hand was still trembling slightly after the slap.
He looked at Bethany with cold eyes. There was no trace of guilt. "Apologize to your grandma."
Bethany's tears finally broke free, falling in big, heavy drops.
She didn't feel the pain. She only felt cold.
It was like the chill started deep inside her, spreading out until she felt frozen, unable to move.
Twenty years of being obedient, twenty years of swallowing her pride had all become a joke in this single moment.
It turned out that she wasn't even as important as a piece of slow-braised pork in this family.
She was someone to take the blame, get yelled at, or slapped whenever they wanted.
She looked at her father's cold face, her grandma's harsh mouth, her sister-in-law's smug expression, and her mother's weak, tearful eyes.
Finally, her eyes settled on the piece of slow-braised pork lying on the table.
It was oily and messy.
It was just like where she was.
Gavin saw that she wasn't moving. His pride was wounded, and his anger flared even hotter.
He jabbed a finger right at Bethany's nose, spitting out each word through gritted teeth. "I told you to apologize to your grandma. Now!"
Apologize? She slowly lifted her head, blinking through a haze of tears, and saw her father's face contorted with rage.
In that instant, something inside her broke for good.
She slowly got to her feet, every movement heavy, as if she was using up the last of her strength.
Everyone thought she was about to give in.
Grandma's lips even curled into a smug little smile.
Bethany didn't walk toward Grandma.
She turned and walked toward the door.
"Where do you think you're going?" Gavin roared after her.
Bethany didn't look back.
She walked to the entryway and grabbed her coat and bag.
Outside, the sounds of Christmas celebrations echoed through the night.
Every house was lit up, filled with laughter and joy.
But she was about to be kicked out of her own home.
No, she wasn't being kicked out.
She was leaving on her own.
This place wasn't her home anymore.
Gavin was shaking with rage as he chased after her. "Bethany! If you walk out that door, don't ever come back."
Bethany's hand was already on the doorknob.
She heard her father's threat, but she didn't hesitate for a second.
She even managed a smile, but it was so sad it looked worse than crying.
She whispered something, almost to herself. "Fine."
The door opened.
The cold wind outside, carrying the scent of fireworks, swept in.
It slapped against her stinging cheek, cutting like a blade.
She stepped out.
Behind her, her father's angry yelling, her mother's crying, and Grandma's venomous curses filled the air. "Let her go. The farther the better. Ungrateful brat!"
Bethany didn't look back.
Step by step, she walked into the swirling blizzard of Christmas Eve.
Behind her, the door slammed shut with a loud bang.
It cut off all the noise.
And it cut off her entire past.
She stood alone on the empty street, snowflakes landing in her hair and on her face.
Her warm tears mingled with the icy snowflakes.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
She pulled it out. It was a text from the bank.
A notification that her year-end bonus had been deposited.
It was a hefty sum.
It was money she'd earned by grinding herself down all year.
She'd been planning to give two-thirds of it to her parents as a generous cash gift.
But now, there was no point.
Bethany stared at the number on the screen, and suddenly, she laughed.
She laughed through her tears.
She laughed like she was losing her mind.
She had money in her pocket now.
She could get her own apartment and buy her own slow-braised pork.
She could eat as much as she wanted.
She didn't have to put up with anyone's attitude ever again.
She wiped away her tears, opened the ride-hailing app, and booked a ride to the best hotel downtown.
She was done with Christmas.