Her Three Toasts, My Final Goodbye

“Then let Emily get a part-time job. Work two months, play for one—it’s still enough.”

But Emily refused instantly.

“I won’t! Who wants to be a laborer?”

Seeing me unmoved, Mom hurled her keychain at me.

“Are you trying to destroy this family?”

“I raised you, fed you, paid for your schooling, and now you can’t help pay for your sister’s? How selfish can you be?”

“All you care about is money now!”

The keys hit me hard, but instead of pain, I felt relief—

Like a dam finally breaking inside me.

I looked at her, eyes red but smiling.

“Mom, do you remember when my teacher told you I had real talent for painting?”

“That was years ago. Why bring it up now?”

Her eyes darted away, her voice weak.

But I couldn’t help remembering.

When I was little, my art teacher saw my potential and suggested I study it seriously.

For the first time, someone recognized me. I blushed and told Mom, expecting encouragement.

But she only scowled.

“Sophia, you haven’t even mastered schoolwork, and now you want to draw? Don’t you feel guilty after everything I’ve done for you?”

“Art costs money. I can’t afford that! That teacher of yours is ruining you!”

The first sketchbook my teacher gave me—she shredded it to pieces.

She said ordinary people like us couldn’t afford such dreams.

Even when I consistently ranked top of my grade, she was never satisfied if I didn’t get perfect scores.

But Emily was different.

When she scored average, Mom took her out for celebratory feasts.

When I wanted to come along, Mom frowned.

“You’re preparing for college entrance exams. Go study. You can eat whatever you want after.”

Later, when Emily was caught listening to music in class, the teacher called home.

Mom was thrilled, listened to her sing off-key, and then hired an expensive private music tutor that very night.

“My Emily is going to be a famous singer one day! She needs the best training!”

She bragged to neighbors about Emily’s singing, glowing with pride.

If anyone mentioned I was good at painting too, she brushed it off.

“What? Sophia just wastes time. Luckily, I never let her pursue it, or she wouldn’t have even gotten into college!”

Nurturing?

I laughed bitterly.

“I paid for all my own college expenses. Why can’t Emily do the same?”

“If you love nurturing talent so much, Mom, why don’t you get a job yourself and fund Emily’s dream of being a singer?”

“You’re getting more and more ungrateful!”

Fuming, she grabbed Emily and slammed the door.

“Let’s eat out. Let her do whatever she wants!”

The noisy house fell silent.

For once, I felt at peace.

I received Mr. Johnson’s documents and packed my luggage.

Four days left until I moved to the U.S.

When they came back the next morning, Mom dropped a bag on the table.

“You haven’t eaten, right? Emily and I bought you something—eat it while it’s hot.”

Maybe she wanted to make peace.

But she gave me a look as if it was some great favor.

As I opened the bag, she was already talking like usual.

“We were out all night, and you didn’t even worry? You should be grateful. Your sister thought of you and brought food for you.”