“I knew it—too much studying makes people forget where they came from. Look at those Ivy League kids—they leave the country and never come back. You’re the same. The more you study, the wilder your heart gets. You even dare go against Mom and Dad. Well, today I’ll make things right. Mom doesn’t dare deal with you, but I do!”
This room was carved out of the balcony.
It was a two-bedroom apartment. I remember when I first came here, Margaret looked at me uneasily.
“Emily, your dad and I don’t have much. The apartment’s small, there’s no extra room. But I don’t want you to feel wronged. How about this—you take our bedroom, and your dad and I will sleep in the living room. No matter how hard it is, we want you to live well.”
But she didn’t move an inch until I said,
“It’s okay. I’ll sleep on the couch. I’ll manage.”
Only then did she smile.
“Our Emily is so considerate.”
Yes. I was always the considerate one.
Because in this world, I never had the choice not to be.
Mom never sold her blood. Dad never went to the hospital. One night passed, and it was as if nothing had happened.
When I stepped into the living room, the admission letter was gone from the table.