I'm an Outsider in My Own Home

As for Mamma and Papa, it wasn't that I never tried to win them over.

Back in school, desperate for Papa's approval, I studied from dawn till dusk and finally earned the top score in my grade.

When I excitedly handed him my report card, he was on the phone discussing business. He just gave it a cursory glance and then casually placed it into a pile of scrap paper.

That same day, Fabio merely tossed his exam paper—which also had the top score—onto the table with indifference, and Papa was so delighted he cracked open a good bottle of wine.

"Now that's my son."

Papa raised his wine glass and looked straight past me at Fabio, not sparing me a flicker of attention.

…

Last night, I had a sudden, severe allergic reaction.

Large red hives broke out all over my body, my throat swelled severely, and even breathing became incredibly difficult.

Fighting the agony of suffocation, I dialed the number for the family's private medical team to beg for help.

But the line that was supposed to be on standby around the clock was constantly busy, and I couldn't get through no matter what.

In desperation, I called Mamma, who managed the family's private medical team.

"Mamma, I'm having a severe allergic reaction. I can't breathe or get through to the medical team—"

She cut me off dismissively. "Just take some medicine, okay? I'm busy right now. I'll call you back later."

The next second, she heartlessly hung up.

Stumbling, I took a taxi to our family's private hospital, only to be told that all the specialists were out.

In the end, I barely escaped with my life thanks to a panicked intern nurse in the emergency room who scrambled to inject me with the anti-histamine shot.

While I lay weakly in the hospital bed, I scrolled through Francesca's Instagram updates.

The photo showed the family's private medical team and the hospital's specialists, all fully geared up, gathered around Pico.

The caption read, "I was nearly scared to death when my precious Pico choked on a nut. Luckily, Mamma brought in the best specialist right away."

The comments below were all flattery and words of comfort.

With a bitter smile, I glanced at the red hives on the back of my hand that still hadn't fully faded.

My own Mamma went to all that trouble for a pet rat, yet she couldn't even be bothered to call and ask if I was alright.

When I pushed open the door to the house the next day, the scene inside was exactly as I had left it. Dirty dishes were piled on the table, and the trash can was knocked over on the floor.

I was about to go lie down and rest when I heard Mamma say, "What happened last night gave me such a shock. Thank goodness Pico is alright."

Then came Francesca's soft, coy voice. "Mamma, you were so amazing, calling all the specialists over. I don't know what I would've done without you."

They walked into the living room and saw me and the mess I hadn't had a chance to clean up.

"This house is an absolute mess. Valentina, why didn't you clean it up?" Mamma asked with a frown.

"I was in the hospital last night," I replied.

She looked me over. "What happened?"

"I had a severe allergic reaction and almost went into shock. I called you and told you about it."

She was dumbfounded.

I thought perhaps she might show a flicker of concern. But no, she just shrugged and said, "Well, you're perfectly fine now, aren't you? Is something so trivial really worth trotting out for sympathy?"

I looked at her. "But you called away all the doctors to treat Pico, so I almost died."

Mamma's frown deepened. The look she gave me held no guilt, only irritation.

"Are you blaming me? What have I ever done wrong by you? I raised you all these years. And now you're jealous of Pico, of all things? Honestly, you're just tiresome."

Here I was being called tiresome again. Yet all I ever wanted was just a little bit of care from my family.

Finally, all the emotions I had held back came flooding out, and the words slipped out.

"To you, I matter less than a rat. If that's the case, why did you even have me in the first place?"

She froze, then slapped me across the face.

"You ungrateful brat! How can you blame us for your allergic attack? All you ever do is whine about how nobody cares about you. Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why you're such a worthless, utterly disappointing waste of space?"

Francesca, cuddling Pico in her arms, watched me with a grin.

"Alright, alright. If you're really that jealous of Pico, I'll apologize on its behalf. Now go take out the trash."

Papa stood to the side, his face dark. He jabbed a finger at my face and roared angrily, "That's enough! Do as Francesca says, now!"

The three of them stood shoulder to shoulder with a rat at their side. They looked more like a family than I ever did with them.

Meanwhile, I lay sprawled on the cold floor, clutching my swollen cheek, too drained even to shed a tear.

I braced myself against the wall and slowly stood up. Head lowered, I said numbly, "Since I'm so worthless, I'll leave. From now on, just pretend you've lost a maid. That way, I won't be an eyesore to you anymore."

Papa let out a cold snort. "Getting bold enough to threaten me, are you? Walk out that door and don't expect to get another cent from this family!"

He was about to hurl more insults when Francesca suddenly shrieked, "Oh no! My precious Pico seems to be coughing!"

Papa's and Mamma's expressions instantly changed, panic flaring. "Quick! Call the doctor immediately!"

They hurriedly brushed past me.

The heavy wooden door slammed shut in my face with a bang.

I stood quietly in place for two seconds, then turned around and went back to my cold and gloomy room. I stuffed the few clothes I had into my bag.

It was well below freezing outside. Bracing against the biting wind, I dragged my peeling suitcase and walked resolutely into the depths of winter without looking back.