My Family Will Regret Leaving Me Behind

I have no idea how Yara got my number.

“Elara, transfer two hundred thousand to Kael right now. He's about to get married!”

“You're his mother, or am I? Or, you can have him call me 'mom', and I might consider it.”

Yara lost her composure, starting to curse.

I swiftly hung up and blocked her, giving my boyfriend a smile.

Sure enough, once you let go of any sense of decorum, your mental state improves drastically.

By the time I got to school, it was already seven.

I had to wake up at four every morning to prepare breakfast for my younger brother, Kael, who was just a few months younger than me.

Though I call him my brother, we have no blood relation.

When I was two, my parents divorced. I stayed with my father, who later remarried a woman three years younger than him, bringing along a boy who was just a few months younger than me. They both changed their surnames and formed a new family.

But, in this family, I was never welcomed.

Standing at the door of the classroom, wearing an oversized coat and faded pants, I hesitated.

These were clothes Yara no longer wore and left behind for me.

How long had it been since I bought new clothes? Maybe close to ten years, or maybe even longer. I couldn't remember.

The only time I bought new clothes was when I was seven, a year that still sticks in my mind.

It was snowing heavily, and my father took us all out to shop for New Year goods.

“Mom, I want this!”

Young Kael pointed at a high-end clothing store, and I only remember the logo—a swoosh.

Inside, a down jacket cost hundreds, even thousands. I glanced at the price tag and quickly withdrew my hand.

To me at the time, it was as if it were priced in the stars.

Yara hesitated for a moment, but Kael's incessant whining convinced her. She smiled and nodded.

“Okay, how about we buy this one?”

My father furrowed his brow, took out his wallet, counted a stack of bills, and handed them to the cashier.

As we left the store, Kael seemed pleased.

He looked at my hands, which were empty.

“Mom, why doesn’t sister have new clothes?”

Yara's face, once filled with smiles, darkened. She pulled me aside and said harshly.

“Did you teach Kael to say that?”

“No, I didn’t!”

I weakly defended myself, but to Yara, that was just an admission of guilt.

“Slap!”

A sharp slap echoed across my face, resonating in my heart at the age of seven. The red handprint remained imprinted.

“You’re so devious for someone so young. When you grow up, are you going to scheme against me and your dad?”

Countless passersby stared at us, and I felt utterly humiliated, tears welling in my eyes.

“Still want new clothes? Don’t you have enough? Do you know how hard your dad and I work to make money? You’re such a waste!”

Yara raised her hand again, but my father stopped her.

“Enough, you don’t feel embarrassed doing this in public? Let’s go, we’re heading home.”

With that, he didn’t even look at me, just grabbed Kael’s hand and walked toward home.

Yara ignored me and followed my dad’s steps. In the snowstorm, they looked like a real family of three, while I was just an outsider...

From that day on, I never asked for new clothes again. Not once.

At seventeen, I had already ingrained self-doubt and poverty deep into my bones.

With a heavy heart, I lowered my head and walked into the classroom, unable to meet the mocking stares of my classmates.

Though it wasn’t the first time I wore something this odd, I still couldn’t lift my head.

Sure enough, as soon as I stepped inside, a few girls gathered and started gossiping, throwing occasional glances in my direction.

I buried my head deeper, wishing I could bury myself in my books.

The bell for class rang, and the homeroom teacher entered, carrying a pile of books.

I let out a breath of relief. It was only during class that I could regain the little dignity I had left.

“Now, I’m going to announce the results of our class’s first mock exam.”

Some students craned their necks, eyes filled with expectation, while others lay bored on their desks, not caring much about what the teacher was saying.