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Family Ends Here, For Eternity Novel Cover

Family Ends Here, For Eternity

A simple morning meal reveals a painful truth about family dynamics. When her mother bakes a fresh batch of croissants, the protagonist is left with only two, while her sister Melody is allowed to eat sixteen. Asking for more only invites harsh scolding. Accused of being greedy and compared unfavorably to her sister, the protagonist points out the unfairness. Instead of understanding, her mother flies into a rage, packs the leftovers for Melody, and condemns her own child as calculating.
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Chapter 1

In the morning, my mother baked a full tray of croissants, but I only got to eat two.

The rest were all store-bought frozen croissants.

So, I complained, “Mom, could I get more fresh baked croissants?”

My mother frowned and scolded me as she heard that, “Are you some kind of glutton reincarnated?”

“You've already finished everything and now you want more? Look at your sister—she's not nearly as greedy as you."

I glanced at my sister's plate, which still held plenty of croissants and argued, "But I only ate two, while Melody ate sixteen."

My mother flew into a rage. She scolded me while packing up the remaining croissants for my sister to take away.

"You even counted how many croissants your sister ate? You're so calculating!"

Calculating?

How could she call me by that when she wouldn't even give me the croissants that were left on Melody's plate?

——

My sister, Melody Lester, rarely got a long weekend off, so my mother decided to make fresh baked croissants.

The key to making croissants lied in the layers of the pastry.

Early in the morning, I helped her to get some ingredients in the supermarket and prepared the dishes.

My mother prepared the filling because our family recipe produced an out-of-this-world filling.

I took charge of layering the croissants, filling a whole tray in no time.

By the time Melody came home, all the croissants were already in the oven.

While the croissants baked, my mother shooed me out of the kitchen. I had no choice but to chat with my sister.

Fresh baked croissants were served at the table. Each of us got a plate.

Melody said happily, "Mom, I've been craving these. The croissants outside just can't compare to yours."

I nodded in agreement.

By the third croissant, I noticed something was off and spit it out.

These weren't fresh baked croissants—they were the frozen croissants I'd bought from the store and stored in the fridge.

I glanced at my sister. She was eating one after another, each one filled with the best filling.

I was certain I'd made enough croissants for three people.

Refusing to believe it, I kept eating. But by the time I finished the croissants on my plate, I hadn't found any fresh baked croissants.

My stomach felt uncomfortably full, but what hurt even more was my heart.

Melody ate with relish and my mother even picked croissants from her own plate to give her. The two of them chatted away, completely leaving me out.

I could not help but complain, "Mom, I want to eat more croissants."

My sudden outburst shattered the warm mother-daughter moment.

I was usually not so tactless, but after working so hard, I just wanted a few more croissants. Surely, my mother shouldn't blame me.

She glanced at my empty plate and frowned.

“Are you some kind of glutton reincarnated? You've already finished everything and now you want more? Look at your sister—she's not nearly as greedy as you."

But my sister's plate was practically overflowing.

In the past, I might have just let it slide, but remembering the diary I'd seen earlier, I felt compelled to argue. "But I only ate two, while Melody ate sixteen."

I pointed at my sister's still-full plate, making my mother stare at me in disbelief, her face flushing red with anger.

"You even counted how many croissants your sister ate? You're so calculating!" 

"How did I end up with such a calculating daughter? So greedy?"

I just wanted to say that I didn't mean to count them. I was just trying to work out what had happened to all the freshly baked croissants for three people — had I made too few?

But before I could explain, I saw my mother stormed into the kitchen, packing up the unbaked croissants.

She grabbed my sister and even took the croissants left in the plates. "Melody, Sylvia is so petty! Let's go—we're not eating here anymore!"

Tears blurred my vision.

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