Father's Birthday Cake

I glared at them coldly. "If it's so hard for you, then don't pay for my school! I don't even want to study! I know, I'll quit school immediately. You can pay for Steven's tuition instead. How about that?"

Mom looked at me, hurt, and approached cautiously, "Your brother dropped out of middle school and has already fallen far behind. Yvonne, you're Mom and Dad's pride. We only want you to be happy. Please don't be so willful."

Steven helped Dad with his wound, his face reddening with fury. "Are you trying to make us mad on purpose?! If you're sick in the head, go see a doctor! I don't want a sister like you! Let's sever ties officially. From now on, you're no longer part of our family!"

My brother grabbed my bag, ripped out a sheet of white paper, and wrote on it with a pen.

After he was done, he walked up to me and slapped the disowning agreement on my forehead, glaring at me fiercely.

I burst out laughing.

"A disowning agreement? Fine, I don't want to be family with people like you anyway. The thought of having a family like you people makes me sick. I hope you guys suffer."

I picked up the pen from the ground to sign the paper, but Mom rushed over, hugged my waist and wetted my hand with her tears.

"Yvonne, your brother is just confused. Don't listen to him. You can't sign that!"

Dad, tears running down his pale cheeks, knelt before me, slapping himself hard.

"Yvonne, I apologize to you, okay? I don't know what I did to make you upset… You can hit me or yell at me, I don't mind… But please, don't disown us. We love you. If you're still angry… I'll let you vent. You can take it out on me."

He took out a knife, trembling, and put it in my hand, gesturing to cut off his thumb.

Mom cried, urging me not to, since he's my father.

She recalled countless things from the past in front of everyone.

She recalled how good they had been to me over the years.

Back in elementary school, my brother got a perfect score and excitedly brought it home to show Mom and Dad.

Dad was too engrossed in smoking in the yard to look up. Mom was busy cooking for me in the kitchen, so she just gave a perfunctory nod and told him not to be too arrogant.

Then, I also came home.

I scored in the 80s in every subject in the final exam.

Dad was moved to tears, saying I was born to be a scholar.

Mom picked me up and spun me around, showering kisses on my left cheek. "Oh, my dear, you're amazing! Scoring in the 80s means there's room for improvement. Come, try the ravioli I made for you! It's your reward!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Steven awkwardly picking at his fingers.

That kind of favoritism happened many times in our lives.

In middle school, my brother wanted to take a chess lesson. He begged Dad to sign him up since his friends were joining.

Without hesitation, Dad tore the registration form to pieces and scattered them on my brother's face. "You little brat, already wasting my money at such a young age!"

"Your sister will be going to high school soon, and there are plenty of expenses. You should drop out and work to earn money to support her."

The sky that day was gray, just like today.

Steven ran out crying, cursing me for being a demon who stole Mom and Dad's love.

I touched my face and saw tears sparkling in my hands.

Later, I searched for Steven for two whole days but couldn't find him.