I Returned Home, Only to Be Kicked Away

Now, wearing a look of protectiveness, my father held my nephew tightly and glared at me.

“Lily, you’re an adult—why argue with a child?”

“He’s your nephew. Can’t you just let him be?”

Holding my head, I struggled to stand and faced him.

“He just called Lulu and me worthless little bitches!”

My father’s eyes darkened.

“I heard him!”

“Children talk nonsense. Why take it to heart?”

His words stabbed me like a knife.

He heard it?

So he wasn’t even pretending anymore.

He ignored everything done to me the moment I walked in, yet jumped up the second I scolded my nephew.

As always, what they couldn’t give me as a child, they still can’t give me now.

Disheartened, I grabbed my daughter’s hand and turned to leave.

My mother came from the kitchen holding dishes, set them on the table, and hurried to stop me.

“How can you be mad at your own father?”

I dropped my daughter’s hand and pointed at my bleeding forehead.

“My brother did this to me—and you say I’m mad?”

My mother wiped her hands on her apron.

“Why did your brother hit you? Don’t you know? You promised to buy your nephew snacks—what happened?”

She narrowed her eyes at me, her tone sharp.

“Lily, I’m not saying this to criticize you, but you really are selfish!”

“Just because your brother asked for the medical reimbursement, you got angry and refused to buy snacks for your nephew! Isn’t that it?”

My eyes widened in disbelief.

So that’s what she truly thought of me?

Just then, my daughter, who had gone to pack her schoolbag, suddenly cried out.

I turned and saw my nephew biting her wrist.

Panicked, I ran over and instinctively pushed him away. Before I could ask why, my brother grabbed my hair and slapped me five times.

My mother pulled my nephew—who had fallen flat—into her arms and demanded what had happened.

It turned out he wanted the rag on my daughter’s schoolbag. When she refused, he bit her.

I thought my mother would scold him after knowing this.

But instead, she glared coldly at my daughter.

“Why couldn’t you just give it to your brother? Everything here belongs to him. You’re just a little girl—why fight him?”

Ignoring the pain, I hugged my daughter tightly. “No, it’s not like that…”

But my mother went on, “No wonder your brother hit you. Don’t you know Jack is the heart of this family?”

“So what if he took Emma’s things? It’s just a rag. It costs nothing!”

“You have one brother and one nephew. If you don’t leave your money to them, who else—some outsider?”

When she said “outsider,” her gaze lingered on my daughter.

That was my breaking point.

“How can my own daughter be an outsider? So I’ve always been one too, right? Fine—I’m leaving. Don’t expect me back!”

My mother shouted after me, “Aren’t you staying for dinner?”

I turned toward the table.

There were my brother’s favorite braised ribs and my nephew’s braised prawns—but no boiled fish.

I sneered.

“Enjoy your happy family of five. Have a great meal.”

After all, without my support, I wonder if they can still live such a comfortable life!