Chapter 2 · The ATM Daughter Finally Unplugged

Jason was carrying a shopping bag that was clearly Mom's, looking bored and impatient.

Mom, on the other hand, was all smiles, her face lit up with joy.

I shut off my phone, my face blank.

That was nice.

With her thoughtful son around, she probably didn't need me anymore, the daughter who was always meant to leave, just "water poured out."'

On the third day, the fifth of the month, this was the day I always sent money, month after month, for ten years.

That morning, I was in a meeting at work.

My phone buzzed on the conference table.

I ignored it.

Ten minutes later, it buzzed again.

It was another WhatsApp message.

I figured it was probably Grover, realizing the money hadn't hit his account and texting to ask why.

That was fine.

I'd already come up with the perfect excuse.

When the meeting wrapped up, I headed back to my desk and grabbed my phone.

I opened up WhatsApp and found the message wasn't from my father, but my mother.

She sent me a picture of a gold bracelet at a jewelry store.

And right below it, she messaged: [Emily, I got my eye on this bracelet. Jason thinks it's nice. What do you think?]

I stared at the picture of the bracelet.

The price tag practically jumped out at me; it cost 4,600 dollars.

I stared at the price, and suddenly my stomach twisted in a storm of pure disgust.

They'd always been like this for ten years.

Jason was always the one sweet-talking, making big promises, and keeping them smiling.

And I was always the one handing over the money.

I was never really their daughter.

I was just an ATM that dispensed cash right on schedule.

Back then, I used to make excuses for them.

Maybe they just weren't good at expressing themselves.

Maybe I still mattered to them, somewhere deep down.

But after Dad said, "Sons are the only ones you can really count on," all those illusions I clung to just went up in smoke.

I closed the chat and left it on read.

I spent the whole afternoon spaced out.

I knew this was just the beginning.

The real storm was yet to come.

Sure enough, at seven that evening, my phone's ringtone blared.

His name flashed on the screen: Jason.

Jason finally called me.

It only took three days, quicker than I thought he'd cave.

I stared at Jason's name on the screen, letting it ring out for ages.

Only when the ringtone was about to cut off did I lazily pick up, slow and unbothered.

I stayed silent, waiting for him to say something first.

On the other end, the TV was blaring, and Jason spoke in his usual matter-of-fact tone.

"Hey, Emily? It's me, Jason."

I replied with a flat "Mm."

He seemed annoyed by how distant I was, paused, then continued.

"So, what are you doing?

"I was just talking to Dad, and he said... did you forget to transfer the money this month?"

He really emphasized the word "forgot," almost like he was hinting at something or giving me an excuse.

It felt like he was both reminding me and offering me a way to save face.

Nice of him to say it that way.

I held my phone and walked over to the window.

The neon lights outside danced before my eyes, but they felt cold as ever.

I let out a quiet laugh; it was soft, but loud enough for Jason to catch on the other end.

"I didn't forget," I said.

Jason was caught off guard on the other end.

I could just picture the dumbfounded look on his face.

I spoke, enunciating every word.

"I just want Dad to see how 'reliable' and 'filial' his so-called son really is."

There was a long silence on the other end.

The TV was still making noise in the background.

After about half a minute, Jason finally spoke up, sounding both shocked and annoyed.

"What's that supposed to mean, Emily?

"Are you just mad at Dad or something?"

I leaned against the cold window, my voice calm and detached, like I was talking about someone else's life.

"I'm not upset.

"I just finally get it.

"Dad's right. Taking care of him in his old age? That's the son's job. I'm just the daughter who's bound to leave someday, so why bother getting involved?

"That 1,500 dollars? Consider it me stepping aside early so you can show off how 'filial' you are."

I could hear Jason breathing harder.

He shot back, "What the hell are you talking about?

"Mom and Dad raised us. Shouldn't you be sending them some money?

"You make a ton every month. 1,500 dollars is nothing for you, isn't it?"

My smirk grew even more sarcastic.

I said, "Sure, it's nothing.

"But from now on, not a single dollar of mine will ever go to you or the family again.

"Jason, aren't you the one living nearby? The one Dad always brags about as his 'dutiful son'?

"Well, let's see you step up now."

I hung up before he could say another word.

Chapter 2

Jason was carrying a shopping bag that was clearly Mom's, looking bored and impatient.

Mom, on the other hand, was all smiles, her face lit up with joy.

I shut off my phone, my face blank.

That was nice.

With her thoughtful son around, she probably didn't need me anymore, the daughter who was always meant to leave, just "water poured out."'

On the third day, the fifth of the month, this was the day I always sent money, month after month, for ten years.

That morning, I was in a meeting at work.

My phone buzzed on the conference table.

I ignored it.

Ten minutes later, it buzzed again.

It was another WhatsApp message.

I figured it was probably Grover, realizing the money hadn't hit his account and texting to ask why.

That was fine.

I'd already come up with the perfect excuse.

When the meeting wrapped up, I headed back to my desk and grabbed my phone.

I opened up WhatsApp and found the message wasn't from my father, but my mother.

She sent me a picture of a gold bracelet at a jewelry store.

And right below it, she messaged: [Emily, I got my eye on this bracelet. Jason thinks it's nice. What do you think?]

I stared at the picture of the bracelet.

The price tag practically jumped out at me; it cost 4,600 dollars.

I stared at the price, and suddenly my stomach twisted in a storm of pure disgust.

They'd always been like this for ten years.

Jason was always the one sweet-talking, making big promises, and keeping them smiling.

And I was always the one handing over the money.

I was never really their daughter.

I was just an ATM that dispensed cash right on schedule.

Back then, I used to make excuses for them.

Maybe they just weren't good at expressing themselves.

Maybe I still mattered to them, somewhere deep down.

But after Dad said, "Sons are the only ones you can really count on," all those illusions I clung to just went up in smoke.

I closed the chat and left it on read.

I spent the whole afternoon spaced out.

I knew this was just the beginning.

The real storm was yet to come.

Sure enough, at seven that evening, my phone's ringtone blared.

His name flashed on the screen: Jason.

Jason finally called me.

It only took three days, quicker than I thought he'd cave.

I stared at Jason's name on the screen, letting it ring out for ages.

Only when the ringtone was about to cut off did I lazily pick up, slow and unbothered.

I stayed silent, waiting for him to say something first.

On the other end, the TV was blaring, and Jason spoke in his usual matter-of-fact tone.

"Hey, Emily? It's me, Jason."

I replied with a flat "Mm."

He seemed annoyed by how distant I was, paused, then continued.

"So, what are you doing?

"I was just talking to Dad, and he said... did you forget to transfer the money this month?"

He really emphasized the word "forgot," almost like he was hinting at something or giving me an excuse.

It felt like he was both reminding me and offering me a way to save face.

Nice of him to say it that way.

I held my phone and walked over to the window.

The neon lights outside danced before my eyes, but they felt cold as ever.

I let out a quiet laugh; it was soft, but loud enough for Jason to catch on the other end.

"I didn't forget," I said.

Jason was caught off guard on the other end.

I could just picture the dumbfounded look on his face.

I spoke, enunciating every word.

"I just want Dad to see how 'reliable' and 'filial' his so-called son really is."

There was a long silence on the other end.

The TV was still making noise in the background.

After about half a minute, Jason finally spoke up, sounding both shocked and annoyed.

"What's that supposed to mean, Emily?

"Are you just mad at Dad or something?"

I leaned against the cold window, my voice calm and detached, like I was talking about someone else's life.

"I'm not upset.

"I just finally get it.

"Dad's right. Taking care of him in his old age? That's the son's job. I'm just the daughter who's bound to leave someday, so why bother getting involved?

"That 1,500 dollars? Consider it me stepping aside early so you can show off how 'filial' you are."

I could hear Jason breathing harder.

He shot back, "What the hell are you talking about?

"Mom and Dad raised us. Shouldn't you be sending them some money?

"You make a ton every month. 1,500 dollars is nothing for you, isn't it?"

My smirk grew even more sarcastic.

I said, "Sure, it's nothing.

"But from now on, not a single dollar of mine will ever go to you or the family again.

"Jason, aren't you the one living nearby? The one Dad always brags about as his 'dutiful son'?

"Well, let's see you step up now."

I hung up before he could say another word.