Without any identity or knowledge of her biological parents, my father took pity on her and brought her home, naming her Yoko Ford.
"Ann, from now on you have a little sister. I won't allow you to bully her, do you hear me?"
At that time, my father already disliked me, so he found another child he could love and care for.
Yoko was very intelligent, and she understood our relationship.
On her first day at our home, during dinner, she piled a lot of meat onto my plate.
"Ann, you should eat more meat. I'm satisfied with these vegetables."
But there was clearly a lot of meat left on the plate.
It was an unintentional remark that struck a chord.
My father felt heartbroken and praised Yoko for being so considerate.
"She must have gone through a lot to be so mature."
Shortly after, my father picked up a chicken leg from the plate and put it in Yoko's plate.
"Since Yoko just joined our family, you should be more accommodating to her. She is so well-behaved. If I ever catch you bullying her, I won't forgive you!"
Afterwards, my father poured more and more of his love into Yoko.
Meanwhile, on the day I reached adulthood, I left home because of the words he had said.