They Chose Her, so I Chose to Cut Ties

I forcefully suppressed my sobs and said, "I want you to come home. Right now."

Mom was silent for a few seconds on the other end of the line before she asked, "Why are you being so immature? I'm busy right now. Let's talk later tonight."

"I want you to come home now!" I shouted before I softened my voice and mumbled in a teary voice, "My head hurts so much, Mom. I think I have a fever."

It was my first time lying to Mom.

In the past, whenever I got sick, Mom would immediately rush to my side. She even carried me to the clinic that was two blocks away when I started running a high fever in the middle of the night once.

The doctor had said that my life would be in danger if she had been a second too late.

Mom kept vigil by my bedside the entire night, crying until her eyes were swollen.

"Alright. I'll be home soon. Stay in bed and don't move around."

A bitter sensation spread through me after I hung up.

Mom cared about me. She probably had a valid reason for having that photo. Perhaps the woman was her relative's child. Perhaps she had simply taken the picture for her friend.

I tried my best to comfort myself.

…

Mom burst through the door about 20 minutes later, carrying a bag of antipyretics and fruits.

"Why did you suddenly catch a fever? Didn't you cover yourself with your blanket at night?" she asked as she brushed her hand against my forehead, frowning slightly. "You don't feel hot."

I looked at her and spotted a new necklace peeking from her collar. It was the same necklace that she had been wearing in the photo.

I had seen the same necklace in a magazine. It cost close to 10,000 dollars.

I felt as if something heavy was weighing my heart down. The hope that I had been desperately clinging to was extinguished.

Mom had always treated me well in the past, but she always acted miserly when it came to materialistic things. She constantly talked about our family's abysmal financial situation and reminded me to behave maturely.

We couldn't spend frivolously because Dad worked himself to the bone to provide for us. I also had to start working when I entered university to pay for my own school fees.

As a result, I had no choice but to make up excuse after excuse to explain my absence from my class gatherings.

I hesitated for a long time before asking Mom if I could buy a book that wasn't related to my academics, only for her to cry about how we were poor.

It turned out that she was just saving all her money to spend on her other daughter.

"Let's take your temperature."

Mom rummaged through the first aid kit until she found the thermometer.

I quietly watched her as she shook it, feeling like my heart was being stabbed by knives.

I always told myself that I had to be more understanding of Mom and Dad, reminding myself that their lives weren't a walk in the park either.

However, when faced with the truth, my understanding of their circumstances felt like a massive joke.

My eyes reddened as I opened my mouth. I was going to question Mom for the first time and the last time.

"Isabelle's mother gave her a laptop for her birthday, Mom. Michelle's parents brought her on a trip to Heatherfield for five days. Even Rachel, who's less well off than we are, received a handmade scarf from her mother. She even saved up enough money to buy the art supplies that Rachel wanted."

Mom's hand froze in the air at my words. Her smile stiffened.

"But," I continued as I frantically wiped my tears and fixed a smile on my face. "I told them that I didn't envy them. I told them that my mother gets up every morning to make breakfast for me, and she hasn't missed a single day in six years.

"When I broke a bone in second grade, she took off from work for a whole month to take care of me, carrying me up and down the stairs every day. She never scolded me when I flunked my exams. Instead, she would just hug me and tell me to try harder next time.

"There's no way that my mother doesn't love me and give me the best that she can. I'm about to turn 18 soon, so she's probably preparing a surprise for me.

"Mom… You…"

I had so much more to say—so many more grievances that I hadn't expressed. But I couldn't stop my tears from falling.

My throat tightened painfully to the point that I couldn't speak. I could only force myself to look up at her.

Mom clumsily wiped the tears from my eyes, but they continued to endlessly roll down my face. She sighed and remained silent.

A long time passed before she murmured, "It's not that I don't love you, Ally. It's just that… Our family's going through a rough patch right now. Your father's business isn't doing well, and my department—"

I raised my hand and scrubbed my face. My voice sounded utterly wrecked when I said, "I know that it hasn't been easy for you. That's why I've been wearing the same 20-dollar uniform for three years and using the same 10-dollar bag for five years.

"I've never asked for a birthday present that costs more than 20 dollars. I've also never signed up for any tutoring classes. I earned all my academic achievements through my own effort."

My voice had turned hoarse by the time I was done speaking.