Chapter 1

My mother, Anna Grant, endured my father, John Grant, siphoning family funds privately to support his younger brother, Benjamin Grant.

He lent my uncle a hundred thousand dollars for the down payment on Benjamin's house, sixty thousand as a business loan for running a restaurant, and thirty thousand dollars for his children's school fees.

However, Anna never got a penny from John.

John would always claim that supporting Benjamin was his responsibility as the older brother. As a result, our small family of three was forced to scrape by on nothing more than Anna's one-thousand-dollar monthly wage.

Until that day, only two chipped bowls were left in the house after all the others had been broken. Anna asked John for four dollars to buy three new ones, but John said he had no money.

Anna said nothing. Instead, she walked into the kitchen and smashed the last two bowls. "I want a divorce," she said in a soft yet unusually firm voice.

John froze for a second, then flew into a rage.

Anna ignored him, turned around, and looked at me. "Alex, who are you going with?"

She thought I would choose her. But what I said next left both of them frozen.

*****

That night, the clatter of Anna's smashing bowls rang out sharp and clear. The porcelain shattered into innumerable fragments on the ground, a stark metaphor for their three decades of marriage.

"I want a divorce as soon as possible." Anna stood among the shards, her voice flat to the point of horror.

John was huddled on the sofa scrolling through his phone. At her words, he froze for a split second before springing to his feet in a rage. "Have you lost your mind? All over four bucks?"

"Yes." Anna met his gaze, her eyes free of rage, only a lifeless calm lingering in them.

The air in the living room turned rigid in an instant. Streetlights outside spilled through the window, painting fragmented light and shadow across the floor.

This confined, old house was furnished with pieces from more than a decade prior. The sofa's leather was split open, the sponge underneath peeking out. My elementary school certificates, pasted on the wall, had yellowed under the dim glow.

John's face flushed crimson, his finger shaking as he jabbed at Anna. "For thirty years, I never hit you or said a harsh word. You live under my roof and eat my food. Now you're leaving me over some broken bowls?"

"Eat your food?" Anna let out a bitter laugh. "John, tell me, how many years has it been since meat graced our dining table? Six years? Our son starved almost every single day during his three years of high school."

John was tongue-tied, his face paling and flushing by turns.

"I only make one thousand dollars a month. That's for water and electricity, groceries, and our son's living costs." Anna's voice climbed. "But you? You make nearly twice my salary every month. Where the hell did all that money go?"

John's gaze darted away, guilty. "You... You have no right to question my personal expenses."

"Personal expenses?" Anna scoffed. "You gave your brother a hundred grand for his house down payment. Another sixty grand when he opened that restaurant. You paid thirty grand for his kid's private school tuition.

"She said, "Add up all the little handouts over the years, and you'll find out you have given whatever ours to your brother."

John's voice trailed off, weakening. "He's my brother."

"Then what am I to you? And what about our son?" Anna glared at him, her face soaked with tears.

Anna pressed on, "I asked you for four bucks for the bowls, and you said you had nothing. You remember the last time I asked you for money? Thirty years ago, our wedding year. For three whole decades, I never asked you for a dime."

With that, she turned to me, huddled in the corner. "Alex, who will you stay with?"

Her voice was faint, yet laced with certainty. She was convinced I'd choose her without a second thought.

After all, our family income over the years had come from her. My tuition, my living costs, and everything had depended on her poorly paid job.

I knew she worked as a mall shopping guide, putting in over twelve hours a day, so much so that the varicose veins on her legs had grown increasingly severe.

John also glanced at me, his guilt plain to see.

I slowly rose from the sofa. At that moment, the noise of neighbors arguing drifted in through the window, and a child wailed downstairs.

Everything felt so absurd. Looking at the two people who'd raised me for twenty-four years, I suddenly felt like a stranger to them.

"I'm not staying with either of you," I said.

The words hung in the air, and both my parents froze. The only sound in the living room was the steady tick-tock of the wall clock.

"What are you saying?" John was the first to snap out of it. "You're my son. You won't choose me?"

Anna's face was a mix of shock and the agony of betrayal. "Alex, what are you talking about? All these years I've--"

I cut her off, pulled the marriage certificate from my bag, and slammed it down on the coffee table. "Because I'm already married, and I took on her family name."

My brief words turned the already explosive tension in the house into an impenetrable freeze.