Chapter 4

The moment I closed the bedroom door, it felt like the whole world went quiet.

I took out my own set of blue cotton pajamas from the suitcase, the motions almost automatic.

When my fingers brushed against the soft fabric, I finally felt that everything was real.

I'd worn these pajamas for five years now, and though they were faded from countless washes, they were the only familiar warmth I had left.

I set them down by the bed and sat on the edge.

Sitting on Camille's cartoon sheets, I felt an irony I couldn't put into words.

This used to be my space, my sanctuary, but now it was soaked in someone else's vibe.

I raised my head and took in the room.

The place was a wreck, and it was all my doing.

Camille's textbooks, her diary, her stationery, and those bright, colorful dresses were strewn across the floor.

They felt like silent witnesses, accusing me of my recklessness, my jealousy, and how unloved I was.

Finally, I couldn't hold back my tears anymore. They fell in silence, scalding as they slid down my cheeks and dropped onto the cold floor.

How did things get this way?

I tried to look back on the past twenty-eight years of my life.

I was Jessica, an ordinary girl, the only child of my parents.

My parents never failed to love me, not once.

We weren't rich, but our home was always full of warmth and laughter.

I always thought this was what happiness really was.

I believed I'd always have this special love, only for me.

But that all changed today.

Today, this cold, harsh reality shattered everything I'd ever believed in.

Their only child?

Being loved?

A warm home?

All of it was a lie.

I thought my parents were upset because I lied, but instead, they were ecstatic about the arrival of another daughter.

I thought I was preparing a surprise for them, but they were the ones who shocked me.

Outside the door, I could hear my dad yelling in anger, while my mom was sobbing, and Camille was sniffling.

"Jessica, open the door right now! Are you out of your mind?" my dad shouted.

"Jess, you're scaring me. Please, open the door," my mom pleaded.

"Dad, Mom, my books are all wet," Camille cried.

Their voices were like knives, stabbing straight into my heart.

My parents' voices were something I once longed to hear, but now they filled me with nothing but disgust.

I wiped away my tears, trying to pull myself together.

No, I couldn't let this defeat me.

I was not that little girl who used to cry at everything.

I was a twenty-eight-year-old, independent adult.

I needed an explanation, no matter whether it could make sense of all this or not.

I took a deep breath, got to my feet, and headed for the door.

I gripped the doorknob and twisted. Then the door swung open with a soft click.

In the living room, the three of them stood there, stunned.

My mom's eyes were red and puffy, with tear stains still on her cheeks.

My dad's face was livid, his chest heaving as he struggled to contain his anger.

Camille stood behind them, her eyes swollen from crying, looking at me miserably as she hugged a textbook damp with water.

I didn't look at them. I walked straight to the center of the living room.

"Dad, Mom," I said, my voice so calm that it even surprised me. "Let's sit down and talk this through."

I pointed at the couch.

My parents exchanged a glance, both looking confused, and I could see a flicker of caution in their eyes.

Eventually, they sat down.

Camille hesitated for a second and then sat down next to my mom, gripping the hem of Mom's shirt.

With that posture, she looked like the real victim in this family, and I was the villain who invaded her territory.