Chapter 5

On my birthday, I woke up early, planning to make myself some pasta.

I'd never really celebrated my birthday growing up, but this time, I figured I'd treat myself for once.

The moment I stepped into the kitchen, I spotted a plate of pesto pasta on the table with steam still rising from it. It looked delicious.

Did Claudia's words finally get to Mom the other day? Did she suddenly feel guilty and make me this pasta?

I grabbed a fork, eager to dig in.

I had just sat down when Mom stormed in. "That's not for you."

I widened my eyes, shocked. "What? Is it someone else's birthday, too?"

Mom seemed deaf to my question, already coming up with an excuse. "The pasta's expired. You can't eat that."

Paying no mind to my feelings, she snatched the plate right out of my hands and dumped it straight into the slop bucket.

I bit my lip, my eyes stinging with tears. "I don't care if it's expired."

Mom scoffed. "Oh, you don't care if it's expired? Then go eat it out of the slop bucket."

She shot me a glare sharp enough to cut glass. "You worthless trash."

After hurling insults, she snatched her bag and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

I lost all my appetite.

But that look in her eyes reminded me of how she'd gazed at Yelena that day.

How could she show Yelena so much love and tenderness but never once offer the same to me?

After locking the door, I gazed up at the clear blue sky.

Just another bleak day.

Maybe school was the only place where I could actually breathe.

I wanted nothing more than to move into the dorms, just to avoid her entirely.

But knowing her, she'd never agree. And if I asked, she'd probably just hurl another round of cruel insults at me.

After school, Harry waited for me at the school gate.

It had been ages since I last saw him.

As soon as he saw me come out, he pulled an iPhone from his jacket and handed it to me. "Here, it's for you."

It was the latest iPhone.

I frowned at him, and Harry quickly explained, "It's not from me. It's from my mom. You two met, right? Since you share a birthday with Yelena, Mom got you a present."

"How did she know I didn't have a phone?" I asked.

"You really don't have one?" Harry said in surprise, then added, "I told her. She'd been racking her brain trying to figure out what to get you."

I looked at the iPhone and gave it back. "This is way too much. Please take it back. I can't accept it."

"It's from my mom. If you don't want it, give it back to her yourself." Harry said, shoving the iPhone into my backpack.

He turned to leave. "Gotta go. It's Yelena's birthday today. I'll see you tomorrow for your number."

"Wait up." I stopped him.

He gave me an expectant, curious look.

I asked, "Do you have any cash on you?"

"What?" He hadn't expected me to ask for money, especially not for food.

I picked a pasta joint and ordered carbonara pasta.

Harry wasn't a fan of pasta, so he ordered risotto instead.

He sat across from me, sympathy written all over his face. "Damn, why are you so broke? You're nothing like the campus hotshot I imagined."

I slurped my pasta and shrugged. "Well, you did call me a campus hotshot. Obviously, there's got to be a jaw-dropping backstory."

It was a hefty serving of pasta, but I didn't even leave a single trace of sauce behind. I ate it all.

Harry, sitting across from me, seemed to have lost his appetite just from watching me eat—he'd only taken a few bites of his risotto before stopping.

Eyeing my empty plate, he asked, "Want some more?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm good."

He watched me, lips drawn tight in barely contained surprise, before finally blurting out, "Who would've thought someone your size could eat that much?"

I sneered. "Oh, you don't know the half of it."

"Harry, this meal's on me," I told him. "I'll pay you back once I get my scholarship—then I'll treat you to another one."

As we stepped out of the pasta place, Harry scratched his head and sighed. "You know what? Seeing how pitiful you are, this one's on me. You can treat me after you land that scholarship, deal?"

I nodded. "All right."

Harry was about to leave when he suddenly turned back. "Did you bring your ID?"

"What for?" I asked.

He took me to get a SIM card, inserted it into the new iPhone himself, and added his number to my contacts.

Grinning triumphantly, he said, "You can't return the phone now."

That night, after being bombarded by Harry's messages, I finally followed him on Instagram and scrolled through his posts.

Harry's sister Yelena's sixteenth birthday party was nothing short of spectacular.

A pool party was in full swing—a crowd gathered to celebrate her birthday, with a live violinist serenading the guests. Yelena, dressed in a gown, posed for photos beside a towering birthday cake that dwarfed my height.

She smiled radiantly in a family photo, surrounded by her parents, grandparents, and her brother Harry.

Everyone gathered around her like stars orbiting the sun.

Of course I was envious.

All I ever wanted was for Beatrice to treat me the way any mom would. That would've been enough.

I lay in bed, tossing and turning, struggling to fall asleep.

I glanced at my phone. It was already well past midnight.

Why wasn't she home yet?

Worried, I rushed to the shop to check on her, only to hear her yelling at my dad.