After a Long Time, I Finally Knew That Mommy and Daddy Don't Love Me

My parents said they favored daughters over sons.

Because of that, they bought me new dresses while my brother had to wear second-hand clothes and they gave me cake while he only got plain cookies. Even in our family photos, I always got the center spot.

They said, "Girls face too many disadvantages in this world. We spoil you more so you'll grow strong and independent. But your brother is a boy. He needs to learn responsibility."

But then came the day I had a fever and my brother volunteered to wash the dishes to help take care of me.

When my parents saw this when they got home, they angrily slapped me to the ground.

"We were the younger siblings enslaved by our eldest brother. We cherished you precisely so you'd treat your brother well and yet you did this!"

"How could we have given birth to such a bad child?"

Ignoring my fever, they dragged me out to the balcony.

"Since you can't learn to behave, starting today, you'll live out here. Don't come inside."

My brother tried to explain, but my mother chased him away with toys.

Outside, the snow was falling, which surprisingly eased my fever a little.

I crawled into a discarded cardboard box on the balcony and slowly closed my eyes.

I thought that if I just waited a little longer, until my parents' anger subsided, they would surely come and bring me back inside.

——

My body grew warmer and warmer. In my daze, I heard the balcony door open.

My mother walked over, still looking so gentle and elegant.

She opened her arms to me with a doting smile. "Seriously, why did you crawl into a cardboard box? Mom is getting you fever medicine. Next time, you can't let your brother wash the dishes. You're a girl, housework is for girls."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I reached out my hands to my mother, repeatedly promising, "I know. My brother will go to university. He just needs to focus on his studies and he doesn't need to clean. I won't do it again, Mom."

My body felt lighter and when I opened my eyes, I was in the kitchen.

My father and my brother were sitting on the sofa, one playing on his phone, the other playing with toys.

Meanwhile, my mother put on an apron and began tidying the kitchen while grumbling nonstop, "There should be a limit to her tantrums. Stella is getting lazier and lazier. She doesn't even want to wash the dishes and wants to enslave her brother instead."

My father immediately chimed in, "I think she's just spoiled. She thinks we always give in to her, so she's gotten used to doing everything according to her own whims. Her little brother is still so young and she wants him to wash the dishes? What a spoiled brat!"

I felt a pang of sadness. Looking at my father, I quietly protested, "I'm only half an hour older than him."

But deep down, I still felt guilty. "But Dad's right too. I am the older sister and I should take care of my little brother."

My parents always said that when you're wrong, you're wrong. You couldn't make excuses to dodge responsibility.

So, I ran to apologize to my brother, but he didn't even look at me. He just kept drawing with crayons I'd never seen before.

My father stood nearby, praising him, "Hide your crayons when you're done, don't let your naughty sister see them, or she'll snatch them again.

"And that designer backpack I got you again last time, if your sister wants it, just say it's a gift from a relative. She's so greedy, she'll definitely try to take it."

I stood frozen in place, staring blankly at the scene.

I'm five years old now and I understand some things.

My father told my brother to watch out for me, afraid I'd snatch things, but I've never snatched anything.

At first, when I realized that my parents treated my brother differently, I felt really sorry for him.