The Other Daughter

Everything from before now felt like knives stabbing into my heart one after another.

Compared to the pain on my face, my heart was bleeding far more.

I searched desperately for proof that Mom loved me. At least she used to call me to bed at night. She would put food on my plate at the dinner table. And…

My throat closed. In 26 years of my life, after combing through my memories again and again, those were the only two pieces of evidence I could find that Mom loved me.

Across from me, Mom was gently patting Suri’s back, her expression soft and affectionate, her voice warm—an expression I had never once seen directed at me.

My tears finally broke free. For the first time in 26 years, I admitted in my heart that my mother might not love me at all.

She continued lecturing, her voice sharp with irritation, "Elowen Voss, you’re getting more childish as you age. How old is your sister? As the older one, shouldn’t you give in to her? Look how badly you scared Suri!"

I couldn’t take it anymore. For the first time in all these years, I shouted back at her.

"Mom! Look at my face! Suri nearly disfigured me. Why won’t you say a word to her?!"

Tears and snot streamed down together. I knew I looked miserable, but I couldn’t stop. I just wanted an explanation from her.

Mom looked me up and down in surprise, as if shocked that I could raise my voice at all.

In the past, I had always been timid at home, terrified of upsetting her, in fear that she would stop loving me, but now I finally understood.

Maybe the love I had begged for had never existed in the first place. How could I lose something I never had?

Her expression returned to that same matter-of-fact indifference. "You were ugly even as a child, so plain no one could pick you out in a crowd. You’re not even a fraction as pretty as Suri. Now that your face is ruined, people might look at you out of pity. You should be thanking Suri."

Hearing those absurd words come from her mouth, I felt like I had fallen into an ice pit. Even the blood still running down my forehead seemed to turn cold.

So in her eyes, her eldest daughter was just an unsightly embarrassment, something that couldn’t compare to Suri in the slightest.

I struggled to my feet and started toward the door. I didn’t want to stay here for even one more second.

I didn’t want to watch Mom and her precious Suri clinging to each other while I stood there like a stranger.

However, before I could reach the door, Mom blocked my path.

Frowning, she rummaged through a box, pulled out gauze and antiseptic, and shoved them into my hands.

"You’re running away from home just because I said a few things? You’re an adult, but you can’t even handle criticism. With all those bloody holes in your face, treat them first. I’m going to buy groceries. When I get back, we’ll eat together. You and Suri stay home and get along."

Without waiting for my response, she turned and walked out.

I clutched the gauze and antiseptic tightly. Suddenly, a fragile hope sparked inside me.

I almost argued with myself. Did this count? Did this count as proof that Mom still loved me? It had to count… Otherwise, why would she stop me from leaving?

I was still trying to convince myself when a cold, sinister voice came from behind me.

"Hey. What do you think Mom will buy: shrimp or ribs?"

I spun around. Suri was standing behind me.

"Don’t bother guessing. Mom will definitely buy shrimp, because shrimp are my favorite," she said with absolute certainty, not a trace of guilt, only a provoking look in her eyes.

I straightened my back, suppressing the panic surging inside me, and shot back stubbornly, "That’s impossible. I just asked Mom to buy ribs for me."