My Mother Stole My Future to Secure My Cousin’s Success

"Take it away. My father doesn’t need your things. Julia has already burned offerings for him. Take it away!"

With a single kick, my mother sent the gold ingots I had folded all night scattering onto the ground.

In the silent mountain, I was the only one left, kneeling in the dirt, rubbing my swollen ankle as I picked up the paper ingots now covered in mud.

Fortunately, I managed to make it down the mountain before sunset.

Today was Memorial Day, and as was tradition, our family gathered for a meal at the old house.

As soon as I stepped into the yard, my mother poked her head out and snapped, "Why are you so late? Everyone’s been waiting for you!"

I looked inside. My aunt sat in the living room beside Julia, who was pregnant, while her proud husband lounged beside her. My parents hovered around them, eagerly handing them melon seeds and fruit, laughing and chatting as if entertaining honored guests.

Meanwhile, my husband, Nate Nolan, lay sprawled on a single-seater sofa, glued to his phone, idly shaking our daughter’s walker with his foot.

The moment she saw me, my daughter pouted and let out an aggrieved cry.

I ignored the pain in my swollen ankle, hurried forward, and scooped her into my arms, gently soothing her.

Looking at the warmth shared among the family—the laughter, the doting smiles—I felt an ache rise in my chest. My daughter and I were nothing more than outsiders in this household. No, perhaps even less than that.

Julia rested a hand on her slightly rounded belly and smirked. "Oh, look at her—just because she gave birth to a daughter, she treats her like a rare treasure. So delicate."

My aunt burst into laughter. "Pfft—"

And my mother, wiping tears of amusement, practically collapsed against the sofa’s armrest. "Who says she doesn’t? Every single day, she cradles that child like she’s made of glass. I’m her grandmother, but I can’t even scold her."

"Mom," I said, my voice tight with restraint. "She’s just a child. It wouldn’t take much effort for you to—"

Before I could finish, Nate shifted his posture, scrolling on his phone without looking up. "Enough. Go cook already. I’m starving."

The resentment and exhaustion boiled inside me, but there was nowhere to release it.

With no choice, I secured my daughter to my back with a sling and made my way to the kitchen. My entire body ached—my waist sore, my legs weak from climbing the mountain all day—but no one seemed to care. The weight of sadness pressed down on me.

This house—this so-called home—felt nothing like one. It was nothing but an icy, lifeless shell.

I stirred the pot, my tears falling silently into the steam.

Do I really deserve to live like this?

From the living room, Julia’s laughter rang out, pulling me back to memories I had long buried.

I remembered how, as a child, my mother had favored Julia in everything.

Back then, we all lived together in my grandparents’ old house. Julia, taller and more graceful than me, always stood out.

I was left to wear her discarded shoes.

She outgrew them too quickly, and my mother never once thought of buying me a pair of my own.

So, every morning before school, I stuffed crumpled paper inside my socks just to keep my heels from slipping out.

I didn’t want anyone to laugh at me.

But my mother would sneer, saying I walked too timidly, that I lacked the poise and elegance of Julia.

What she always forgot—or chose to ignore—was that the money for Julia’s beautiful, well-fitting clothes and shoes came from my aunt’s endless requests.

My mother never had money for me. But she always had money for them.

My aunt didn’t work. When she ran out of funds, she would turn to my mother, sending Julia to act pitifully and beg for pocket money.

As a child, I had no concept of money. My mother constantly spoke about how hard life was for my aunt, and how we had to help because we were family.

And so, I believed her.

I thought it was normal.

But then, my mother lied.

She told me we were drowning in mortgage debt. She made me take out my savings—everything I had set aside for my future.

And she didn’t hesitate.

She handed it all over to my aunt, just so Julia could have the chance to study abroad.