I stared at the lunchbox on the table and reached out my hand toward it.
When my mother came out, she was holding the durian I'd bought two days earlier.
When I wanted to eat it, she told me she'd eaten it—turns out she'd been saving it for my sister.
"I saved some food for you on the table. I really don't know what you have to complain about. I treat both of you sisters equally."
But not long after, my mother returned carrying the lunchbox.
"Sylvia, did you touch Melody's food?"
The lunchbox slammed onto the floor, spilling its contents.
Tomato scrambled eggs with only tomatoes, chili stir-fried pork with only chili peppers, soybeans stewed with pig's trotters with only soybeans.
I forced a grin and joked, "Mom, the food looks fine. Didn't Melody eat any?"
My mother instinctively retorted. "This is clearly leftovers she picked through. How could Melody eat such food?"
As soon as she said it, her face turned deathly pale.
I felt like I was about to cry.
"So this is the kind of food I'm supposed to eat?"
Back then, my mother had refused to stay with my sister and chose to stay with me instead.