Departure in Despair

After I had just cleaned up all the mess on the floor, my mom pushed open my bedroom door with a cake box in hand. She sat down in front of me and showed me the box.

"You haven't eaten dinner yet, right? There are some leftovers. Eat."

Although my family would doubt and hurt me again and again, I would always soften up whenever I faced my mom.

Back in my original world, I lost both my parents when I was very young. I had to live with my uncle and aunt. They treated me as nothing but a burden, providing me only with the bare minimum. Whenever I saw others in their mom's arms, I would always watch them enviously.

When I came to this world, I enjoyed the familial love I never had. My mom treated me like her treasure and loved to call me "her baby Fiona". When I was sick and got hospitalized, she would care for me and stay with me the whole day, delaying her work.

From my new parents, I experienced the things I never had. I grew addicted to their affection, so much so that I didn't return to my original world even after I had finished my mission.

However, everything changed the moment Remy was found.

I stopped my thoughts from wandering too far, and opened the cake box in front of me with shaky hands.

Whatever tenderness in my heart instantly dissipated when I saw what was inside. It really was leftover cake—in fact, there wasn't much left to begin with. There was only one piece left, most likely after all the pieces had been taken. It lay sadly on the side.

My mom should have just thrown it away, but she still brought this tiny piece for me. I wasn't sure if I should hold the box or just drop it.

My mom, thinking I was overjoyed, grinned.

"Alright! Now that you've eaten the cake and celebrated your birthday, there's something I want to tell you. I heard from your teachers that you managed to get a recommendation for guaranteed admission. Can you tell your teachers to give it to Remy? With your results, it should be easy for you to get into Royal University. But for Remy, it'll be difficult. Speaking of which, you owe Remy this. Don't forget what you did to her."

My mom's voice was gentle, but her words were akin to blades cutting right into my heart. I felt something hard stuck in my throat, choking me.

"I can't do that, Mom."

My mom frowned, displeased with my disobedience. "Why can't you, when all you need to do is say a few words? It's just like what Remy said. You've never treated her like she's family! I can do anything for you, but you tell me you can't do something so simple when I need your help. Is this how you repay me, Fiona?"

When I saw how impatient my mom was as she looked at me, my insides throbbed painfully. At that moment, I wanted to tell her a lot of things.

I wanted to explain why I couldn't do what she told me to.

I wanted to ask her if I should just give everything to Remy without question.

I wanted to ask her if…if she really hated me that much.

Despite that, I swallowed all the words that I wanted to say.

What was the point of telling her all those things? If they believed this was how I was like, explaining myself to them was pointless.

"Alright, Mom. I'll talk to my teacher about it," I said, lowering my gaze.

She seemed quite surprised with my lack of resistance. "You really will?"

I couldn't blame her for being suspicious. Previously, whenever they told me to let Remy have her way, I would shake my head in protest and voice my unwillingness. They had to yell at me first, and only then would I give whatever Remy wanted with a frown.

This time, I didn't fight back before agreeing to it.

In a few more days, I would be leaving. Arguing was pointless.

My mom, unaware of my thoughts, smiled serenely.

"It's just as Blake said. You'll mature after we ignore you for a few days. See? You finally understand that Remy's your younger sister. You have to go easy on her. You owe her so much, so this is how you should repay her. In the future, you should be like this and stop fighting with her again. Understand?"

Mocking language, turning a blind eye to the situation. That was the best way to educate one's child.

I looked at the gentle woman in front of me, finding her starkly different from how I remembered her. The way she cared for me in the past seemed like a product of my delusion.

A bitter smile reached my lips, and I suppressed the anguish inside of me.

Once my mom had the answer she wanted, she didn't stay. When I heard the door closing, I looked at the "cake" in front of me for a while before throwing it into her bin.

Don't waver, Fiona. That's not your mom.