
Left Without a Share, Her Daughter Lost Her Mind
Chapter 3
“I deliberately didn’t kill this goose first, just in case it wasn’t fresh enough. I thought I would slaughter it right away for you to eat immediately, so you could enjoy the freshest taste.”
“And these vegetables, they’re not dirty at all—they’re all homegrown and very fresh.” Halfway through my explanation, I noticed the feathers scattered across the floor and went to the kitchen to look for a rag to clean things up.
“Mrs. Adams, which rag is used for wiping the floor? I’ll clean this right now.”
I smiled and asked Mrs. Adams and David twice, yet both acted as if they hadn’t heard me. David stared out the window, while Mrs. Adams kept cracking sunflower seeds without even looking up.
I took a rag from the shelf by the kitchen door and was about to crouch down to wipe the floor when Mrs. Adams suddenly yelled, “Hey!” and hurried over, snatching the rag from my hand.
“This isn’t for wiping the floor, it’s for wiping the table! How could you use this for that?”
She turned around, took another rag from the bathroom, and tossed it to the floor near me.
“Use this one.”
I stood there for a second, the rag at my feet, feeling awkward but still determined to clean up the mess.
I picked it up just as the memory of earlier flashed through my mind—the phone call with Sarah, her voice rushed, laughter faintly drifting behind her words.
I had wanted to tell her that I was carrying too many things, that taking a taxi would be difficult.
But she simply said, “There are taxis everywhere at the station. Just take one yourself, I’ll send you the address on Instagram.” And before I could say another word, the call had already ended.
I stared at my dim phone screen, then at all the things I had brought for her, and finally sighed.
What if Sarah really had an urgent issue at home?
Thinking that, I forced myself to flag down a taxi, loaded all my things inside, and tried to ignore the cold wind soaking my clothes.
By the time I finally reached Sarah’s doorstep, tired and carrying bag after bag, I hadn’t expected to hear loud laughter and cheerful voices echoing from inside the house.
I opened the door and saw David, leaning back scrolling on his phone, and Sarah playing happily with little Henry, who was laughing so hard, he rolled across the floor. Nothing in sight looked urgent at all.
When Sarah noticed me entering, she quickly stood up, rubbing her hands awkwardly as she explained,
“Mom! You’re here! Henry kept begging me to play with him the whole day, and I just couldn’t pull myself away, so I couldn’t come pick you up.”
I looked at her, then at Mrs. Adams and David relaxing comfortably in the room, and disappointment quietly settled in my chest.
There were so many adults at home. Even if Henry was clingy, would it really have been so hard for David to pick me up?
The words hovered on my lips, but I forced myself to swallow them.
Just then, the goose I brought suddenly flapped its wings, tipping the bamboo basket over and scattering vegetables all over the floor, feathers drifting through the air.
The laughter in the room stopped immediately.
David sprang to his feet, glanced sharply at the mess in front of me, and his face clouded over.
“Mom, what are you doing?”
“We just had this floor waxed—spent thousands on it! And look at this junk you dragged in, messing up everything. Can you even cover the cleaning and maintenance costs?”
He bent down and nudged the vegetables with his foot, frowning deeper as he stepped back in disgust.
“And these wilted vegetables you brought, grown with manure—are they even safe? What if they transmit bacteria to Henry? He only eats imported organic produce; he can’t eat things from who knows where!”
Seeing the stains spreading across the floor, guilt washed over me, yet I still hoped Sarah would defend me somehow.
But she avoided my eyes and moved to stand beside her husband, gently saying, “Mom, don’t be upset. Life in the city is very convenient. We can get anything we need just downstairs. Really, you don’t need to trouble yourself bringing things from the countryside anymore. It’s tiring for you, and honestly, no one at home really eats them, so they just end up being thrown away.”
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