Chapter 2

Debra only sent a quick holiday text to check in.

She had become a lot more mature.

When Debra turned eighteen, she really made us proud. She unexpectedly got into a university in Ovine.

David and I were over the moon as we brought her home.

But she wasn't nearly as happy as I'd hoped.

I thought she'd be just like when she was little, always clinging to me and telling me I was the most beautiful mom in the world.

But to my surprise, when she saw David and me, she only gave us a polite greeting.

My smile faltered for a moment, but I didn't let it get to me.

It'd been so long since we'd seen each other. Of course things felt a bit distant. With a little time, we'd get close again.

What really caught me off guard was how mature and independent Debra had become.

She washed her own clothes, cooked her own meals, wasn't picky about food, and didn't even bother asking for spending money.

It was only when I asked that I realized she'd already lined up a part-time gig long ago.

She was practically invisible at home.

The house was filled with Jacob's toys and figurines. There wasn't a single pink thing in sight.

Debra had a strong sense of boundaries, only treating her room as her own private world.

That door, not too big or too small, might as well have split us into two separate households.

We were a family, and she was a family all by herself.

David and I had steady jobs, so we didn't have to struggle anymore.

We put all our energy into the family, and for Jacob, we tried to give him whatever he wanted.

But when it came to my daughter Debra...

I racked my brain, trying to remember, and realized that ever since she walked through our door, she'd never once asked us for anything.

I felt a pang of guilt, wanting to make it up to her, but then it hit me. I didn't really know her at all.

I had no clue what kind of food she liked, what TV shows she watched, which celebrities she admired, or even her favorite color.

I knew nothing about her.

It always felt like Debra was shrouded in a thick, white mist.

I could touch her, but I could never see through the fog to who she really was.

One day, after dinner, Jacob started chatting with me.

"Mom, why is Debra called Debra? It sounds kind of lame," Jacob said.

I flinched instinctively, glanced at her tightly shut door, and whispered, scolding him quietly. "Jacob! Don't say that! How could Debra's name be lame?"

But the more I spoke, the more hollow my words sounded.

Was Debra's name really that lame? It was.

Folks in the countryside always said that giving a kid a humble name meant they'd grow up strong and healthy.

When Debra was born, our family was so poor we could barely put food on the table.

Back then, I was so frail that I couldn't even speak up for myself. Molly just went ahead and named her Debra, which sounded old school.

David didn't say a word, and my protest was barely a whisper. It was so quiet that nobody even noticed.

So Molly kept calling her Debra, and before long, everyone else did too. That was how the name stuck.

But times are different now. Debra once told me, through tears, that her classmates made fun of her name and she wanted to change it.

Back then, when we were doing her official paperwork, we actually could've changed it.

But I thought it was too much hassle, so I brushed it off.

After that, Debra never mentioned it again.

Feeling a mix of emotions, I ordered the trendiest cake for her.

A few hours later, I stood outside her door, cake in hand, about to knock.

But suddenly, laughter burst out from her room.

It was Debra's laughter. She sounded like she was chatting with a friend on the phone.

I hadn't heard her laugh like that in forever.

She hardly ever talked at home, and she almost never laughed.

It turned out this was how she was with her friends.

I leaned in close to the door, finally overhearing what they were talking about.

Apparently, Debra's birthday was ten days ago, and they were reminiscing about the party games they played back then.

A wave of panic washed over me.

Was her birthday really ten days ago? I actually forgot her birthday.

No. Debra used to call me a month before her birthday, begging me for a birthday gift.

But what happened this year?

My mind was still stuck on how much she'd grown up and matured.

And why didn't she ask me for anything?

Suddenly, the door swung open.

Debra instantly wiped the smile off her face when she saw me.

"Mom, what's up?" she asked.

Her eyes landed on the cake I was holding.

I forced a nervous smile. "Well... I forgot your birthday earlier, so I got you this cake to make up for it."

Debra flashed me that perfect, practiced smile. "Thanks, Mom. I'll have the cake later, but my friends are waiting for me, so I gotta go."

She slipped out the door, not even touching my sleeve, didn't look at the cake again, and was gone before I could say anything.

I watched her leave without a hint of hesitation.

In a daze, I felt like I'd become the person who once abandoned her in the countryside.

I stood there, unmoving, until my feet went numb.

It wasn't until Jacob called out to me that I snapped out of it.

I shook my head at him and said, "It's nothing."

The cream on the cake slowly melted away.

It just sat there until it ended up in the trash, never getting to see its owner.

When Debra turned twenty-three, she graduated from college.

It should've been a day to celebrate, but instead, our family was hit with a sudden tragedy.

Molly passed away.

She slipped and fell by accident, and that was it.