Perfect Daughter Academy: My Mom's Biggest Regret

After taking me to the prep academy, Mom looked at me with such intense expectation that I could barely breathe.

"Don't disappoint me again."

I flipped through the academy's textbooks and schedules. It felt less like a guide to becoming the perfect daughter and more like a blueprint for building the perfect product.

Five minutes later, I took the placement test and scored a zero.

With a grim expression, the instructor, Madeline Turner, called me into her office.

Meanwhile, Mom's face hardened with disappointment. "Natalie, you're hopeless. I've never seen a child so ungrateful in my life."

She jabbed a finger at the red X's scrawled across my test paper as she spoke. "I raised you for 18 years, and now you want to go to a university over a thousand miles away? Is this how you repay me after everything I've done for you?

"And your goal is just getting into Fairhaven University with a 1450 score? Have you forgotten what I expected from you? You were supposed to be the state's top scholar!"

She tore the test paper into pieces, then slammed a fresh copy down on the desk. "Do it again now."

My face gave nothing away as I wrote down the answers Mom wanted to see.

Ever since I'd found out I was sick, I'd read countless books about acceptance, trying to make peace with both myself and Mom.

I told myself Mom just needed to lose herself before she could find her way back. But she never seemed to reach the end of that road.

Finally, Mom looked at the perfect score and smiled. "That's more like it. Now, go back to class."

…

On the third day, Mom suddenly appeared behind me during break. She was smiling, looking nothing like her usual demanding self.

"Nat, Ms. Turner said you've been doing well lately. Want to take a trip overseas and clear your head?"

I could barely contain my excitement. I didn't know why Mom suddenly had a change of heart, but I wanted to go somewhere with her. I didn't want to have any regrets at the end.

The thought alone made my eyes sting with tears.

"I'd love to, Mom. When are we leaving?"

Without missing a beat, her expression darkened. "Natalie, it seems you still haven't learned how to be a perfect daughter."

I stared at her, confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Do you know what other kids are doing right now? They're all in cram school, trying to get ahead. But all you think about is having fun. I honestly don't know if I can count on you for anything."

Mom went on, "Sometimes I wonder what I did wrong to end up with an ex-husband like your father and a daughter like you."

She raked her fingers through her hair, acting as though I'd committed some unforgivable sin.

Tears slid down my face. This was how it had always been. Every reward had only been a test.

Back in elementary school, Mom had promised to take me to an amusement park if I came in first in my class. But when I showed her my report card and begged her to take me, she slapped me.

"Natalie Jones! Is that why you study? Just so you can get rewarded for it?"

The blow left me stunned. Clutching my cheek, I retreated to my room.

Later, Mom did take me to the amusement park, but my heart wasn't in it.

She spent the entire day criticizing me. "You get upset if I don't bring you. But now that we're here, you act miserable. I swear, this family has done nothing but make my life harder!"

After that day, I never let myself hope for rewards again.

"All you ever do is cry and pout whenever things don't go your way! No wonder nobody wants to be around you!"

The past blurred together with the criticism ringing in my ears.

Just then, another violent pain exploded in my head. I grabbed a chair, doubled over, and started vomiting uncontrollably.

When I looked up, I met Mom's icy gaze.

"Are you done with your act? Then get back to class. I can check on your progress anytime."

I gripped the hem of my shirt tightly. "Why won't you believe that I'm sick? I—"

As usual, she cut me off mid-sentence. "Natalie Jones! Keep saying things like that, and I swear I'm done with you!"

For a brief second, I thought I saw tears glistening in Mom's eyes.

I shook my head hard. It had to be my imagination. How could she possibly cry for me, a daughter who never lived up to her expectations?

As I watched her figure disappear into the distance, I silently counted how many days I had left.

I only had four days left to live.