The money I earned from tirelessly working from dawn to dusk, climbing mountains, and crossing rivers was nowhere near enough for tuition, let alone living expenses.
I counted the few banknotes hidden under my pillow night after night, my heart racing with anxiety.
Because I was trying to save up for school, I did less work at home, and my mother grew colder towards me.
She thought it was better to marry me off early and keep the money firmly in her hands.
"A girl's education is just a waste of money. You're lucky we feed you well. Marrying you off and using the money to support Henry is your duty!"
With that money, her son, Henry, could have meat to eat, new clothes to wear, and a school to attend.
But Dad was different; he had a long-term vision. He thought it better to sell for a reasonable price once and earn enough to cover Henry's expenses for building a house and getting married.
"Angela, if you get into high school, I expect a hefty wedding gift, and then your brother won't have to worry," he said.
I felt like a commodity, subject to their evaluations and comments.
If I were a product, at least the owner would take good care of it, worried about depreciating its value.