Chapter 1

I worked out of town, sending my dad, Grover Scott, 1,500 dollars every month right on time.

My brother, Jason Scott, lived in town and only came home once a month, always empty-handed.

But my dad always said, "Jason's busy with work. It's the thought that counts."

I put up with it for ten years.

Until that Christmas Eve, when Grover said in front of everyone, "You can always rely on sons. Daughters are bound to leave for another family sooner or later."

I just laughed on the spot.

After the holiday, I went back to the city and stopped sending money altogether.

Just three days later, Jason called me.

"Hey Emily, Dad says you forgot to send the money this month," Jason said.

After I said what I needed to say, I hung up on Jason.

*****

My name was Emily Scott, and I worked in a city more than a thousand kilometers from home.

For ten years, on the fifth of every month, my dad's bank account received a $1,500 deposit like clockwork.

Rain or shine, it never missed a beat.

That money was how I paid him back for everything he did for me growing up, and it was my duty as his daughter.

My brother, Jason, worked in the local town, just a half-hour drive from home.

He came home once a month, sometimes twice.

Every time, he showed up empty-handed, ate dinner, and then just got up and left.

Still, my dad always had the same thing to say.

"Jason's got a lot going on at work. It's enough that he makes the effort to visit."

"You're a girl working away from home. It's easier for you, so you should do more for the family."

I had been hearing these lines for ten years and grew tired of them.

And my heart had slowly turned cold.

But this year, everything changed during Christmas.

It was the first time I'd come home for the holiday since I started working three years ago.

I brought a ton of gifts for everyone in the family.

I bought Grover the smart massage chair he'd been dreaming about for ages. It cost me nearly three thousand dollars.

I got Jason the latest phone.

At dinner, all the relatives were saying how I'd made something of myself, and how thoughtful I was.

Grover had a few drinks, his cheeks turning red. He waved his hand, cutting off their compliments.

He didn't even glance at me. Instead, he slapped Jason on the shoulder, looking proud as ever.

Grover scoffed, "Daughters? What's the use of relying on them?

"Doesn't matter how much you do for her, she'll just end up someone else's. Once she's married, she's gone for good, like water poured out, never coming back.

"In the end, when it comes to caring for you in old age and seeing you off, it's always the son you can rely on."

In that moment, the lively atmosphere at the table vanished.

Everyone's eyes locked onto me.

I could see sympathy, awkwardness, and even a bit of curiosity in their gaze, like they were waiting for the drama to unfold.

My hand was still raised, holding the fork, about to serve Grover some food.

My hand paused midair, fork still holding the food.

I laughed.

It was not a bitter laugh, not a forced smile, just a real laugh, so absurd it bubbled up from deep inside me.

Ten years, two hundred thousand dollars, and all I got was being called "water poured out", someone who was always meant to leave.

It turned out that everything I did never mattered to him, not compared to his son, who never lifted a finger.

I slowly put down my fork and stood up.

I said, "You're right, Dad.

"In the end, sons are the ones you can really rely on."

I picked up my coat and walked out, with everyone stunned, watching me leave.

On Christmas Eve, everything was festive with all the decorations.

I knew something inside me broke completely with those words.

I didn't return to the city where I worked. Instead, I stayed at a hotel near my hometown.

Three days later, I bought the earliest high-speed train ticket.

I left without telling anyone.

Back in my tiny apartment, the first thing I did was pull out my phone.

I opened the banking app and found the monthly automatic transfer setting.

Recipient: Grover Scott.

Amount: $5,000.

I just stared at that screen for what felt like forever.

Then, a simple tap of my finger ended it.

I deleted the setting and confirmed.

Ten years of habits was gone in a single moment.

Back in the city where I worked, I poured all my energy into my job.

It was like nothing had ever happened.

I didn't block anyone in my family.

I didn't say a single word in the family group chat.

I was like a stone dropped into a lake; after stirring up a few ripples, I slipped beneath the surface, quiet and invisible.

The first day passed, calm as ever.

My parents didn't text me.

Jason never called.

In the family group chat, they were still busy gossiping about which relative was up to what.

It was as if my early departure was no big deal, just something that barely mattered.

The next day was just the same.

I even saw Mom post a picture on her feed of Jason out shopping with her.

The caption said: [Only sons are truly thoughtful.]

I tapped on the post and just stared at the picture quietly.