
Finally Receiving a Mother's Love, After Becoming Ashes
Chapter 2
The boy pointed to a man in the distance, and the stranger immediately let me go and ran off in a hurry.
The boy told me not to be scared and asked why I was not home yet. I then told him everything.
He comforted me, "You did great on the test. I'm sure your parents are worried sick about you being out so late. And even if they love your sister more, that doesn't mean they don't love you at all. They're just not good at showing it. Don't worry, I'll walk you home."
After listening to the boy's words, a flicker of hope lit up inside me. How could they not love me at all, right?
The boy walked me to my doorstep, and I felt unease and anticipation.
…
As soon as I stepped inside, I saw Mom standing there.
When she saw me being brought home, her face was full of worry as she pulled me into a tight embrace.
"Nessa, where have you been? I've been so worried!"
Was this a dream? Could it be that Mom did care about me? The boy was right. Mom still loved me.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and her embrace felt so warm.
"It was the boy who brought me home."
As I told her what happened, her expression shifted from worry to anger, but when she looked at me, there was nothing but affection in her eyes!
The boy left, leaving Mom in a flurry of thanks and gratitude.
I gently closed the door and turned around, only to see Mom's dark, stormy face.
The hopeful look in my eyes quickly faded when I saw the long ruler in her hand.
She grabbed and yanked me over, rifling through my backpack until she pulled out my test paper.
When she saw the score, her face twisted with anger.
"87 only? How many times have I told you? You need to score 100! A hundred! What's wrong with you? Why can't you get a perfect score? Is it really that hard? Why can't you be like your sister?! You're nothing like my child!!"
It was all a lie. Everything was a lie. Mom was just putting on a show for the boy. She did not love me at all.
I hugged myself, staring blankly at the floor.
I was so stupid. Maybe I really was not Mom's child. Perhaps that was why I could not get a hundred. And that was why Mom didn't love me.
Yes, that must be it.
How could there be a mother who did not love her own child?
If a mother truly loved her child, would she treat them like this?
Where was my real mother? When would she come and find me?
…
After Dad read my papers, he remained silent for quite a while before speaking up.
"Even though Nessa isn't as good as Jenny, you promised me you'd take good care of her. In a family like ours, with all the education we have, it'd be so embarrassing if the others found out."
It would be so embarrassing if the others found out. How ridiculous.
Was reputation really more important than their kids?
Mom scoffed and said assertively, "I'm doing this for her own good. If Jenny could get full marks, she should too! That's the way it should be. She should be like Jenny!"
…
Dad did not respond, silently agreeing with Mom's words.
I honestly was not as good as my sister. I could not bring pride to him. No one would ever say to Dad that he was such a great professor and he had raised such an exceptional daughter.
Whenever my others saw me, they would shake their heads with a sigh, with their faces full of regret as they said,
"Ah, I feel sorry for you. Jenny was such an outstanding girl!"
"Nessa just isn't as capable as her sister, sigh…"
"Jenny was directly admitted to Harvard University back then. She was such a promising young talent, and she was beautiful too."
I started becoming increasingly curious about my sister's brilliance.
I tried to piece together who she was from the scattered words of the elders.
My curiosity grew stronger.
I wanted to visit Jenny's room and look around.
However, Mom would never allow anyone in there. She even did all the cleaning herself.
Curiosity killed the cat.
One afternoon, driven by some unknown impulse, I found myself in that room.
…
Dad, with a dry mouth, quickly drank a glass of water before tossing the diary to Mom.
Mom casually flipped it open and began reading aloud.