The Girl They Buried Came Back a Queen

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Disappointment instantly clouded my father’s face.

“Ava, you just got home and you’re already bullying Delilah again? You’re hopeless!”

“Ava, why would you do this?” My mother looked at me with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “You and Delilah are both my daughters. I’ve always cared deeply for you…”

She shook her head, gently pulling Delilah away from me with a pained expression. Delilah leaned against her, but her eyes gleamed with triumph. She mouthed silently at me: “You’re getting kicked out today.”

But what she said aloud was very different.

“Mom, Dad, please don’t blame my sister,” she said softly, her voice trembling with carefully measured sorrow. “We used our connections to make sure she had decent food and drink in prison, but she still wasn’t free. It’s only natural that she feels… bitter.”

She choked back a sob as if heartbroken on my behalf.

With each word she spoke, my father’s expression darkened further.

“Ava, you’ve learned nothing! I knew it—prison life was too easy on you!”

I could barely breathe, the allergic reaction tightening my chest like a vice. I reached out desperately. “Please… medicine…”

But my father waved me off with an impatient bark. “Enough! Since when do you have allergies? Don’t make up more lies to gain sympathy!”

My mother gave a weary sigh. “Forget it. If Ava is willing to admit her mistake, let’s just eat dinner.”

Daniel happened to be walking down the stairs. His eyes paused on me, filled with disappointment.

“Why do you always have to cause trouble for Delilah?” he muttered before continuing on.

They led the sniffling Delilah downstairs like she was the victim.

I collapsed to the floor, frantically searching for the allergy medicine through blurred vision. Finally, I found it, fumbling to unscrew the cap and shove a pill into my mouth before the suffocating pain could consume me.

It took forever for my breathing to return to normal.

I never wanted to go through that again.

I still remember the first time they discovered I was allergic to pollen—how the entire family had stayed up all night in my room, watching over me.

My brother even ordered the gardener to replace every flower in the garden with grass and shade trees. There was always allergy medicine in the house—just in case.

But now, they’d forgotten. Worse—they accused me of faking it.

A servant came to guide me to the table. The smell of rich food hit me, but all I could do was stare at the bowl of rice in front of me. I didn’t dare touch the vibrant dishes piled on the table.

Two years in prison had trained my stomach to survive on stale rice.

On bad days, when the guards were in a foul mood, we got nothing at all.

One time, they threw a hamburger into a corner.

I hadn’t eaten in two days. I crawled to the corner like an animal—but before I could reach it, a pair of steel-like hands shoved me back.

From then on, I never dared touch anything that looked “delicious” again.

Seeing me curled over my rice, my mother looked at me with concern.

“Ava, why are you so thin? Here—eat more.” She placed a hamburger on my plate, her tone soft. “This was your favorite, remember? I had it made especially for you.”

The moment I saw it, my body locked up. My breath caught in my throat. My hands began to tremble uncontrollably.

Then, I threw up violently.

“Ava!” my mother cried out, rushing to my side.

A doctor was called.

After a quick exam, he removed his stethoscope, concern etched deep into his features. “She’s exhibiting symptoms of severe trauma—either psychological or physical. Her body is rejecting even familiar stimuli.”

He paused, then added grimly, “I strongly suggest you bring in a psychiatrist. If left untreated, this could have long-term consequences.”

My mother covered her mouth, eyes wide with horror. “What… What happened to my daughter?!”