I smiled. "Mr. Jones, please step aside."
Probably wanting to preserve his dignity, Dylan didn't follow.
Looking out the window, I saw him get a call and hurriedly get into his car and leave.
It was probably because Isaac's condition had worsened again.
Watching the car gradually disappear from view, a strange feeling stirred in my heart. I couldn't tell if it was relief or freedom.
2
I had no feelings for the Jones family.
Ten years ago, when I found out I wasn't Isaac's biological daughter, I only felt relieved.
The world in front of me became blurry, but the memories became clear.
A sigh seemed to pass through the layers of time, awakening something again.
My mom frowned angrily and said, "Haven't you played this piece many times? Why can't you still get it? Lydia can play it."
The girl, Lydia Lewis, standing by the piano, was sweet and clever. She had big, bright eyes. She was the daughter of a doctor.
Lydia never got shy when praised and smiled, saying, "It's because you teach well."
Lydia was neither humble nor arrogant. She was about my age but much better at everything.
She actually seemed more like the Jones family's pampered eldest daughter than I did.