On my birthday, my parents hosted a "College Wish Mystery Box" game for Stella and me. Inside the mystery boxes were paper slips with things like a deed to a condo, a black card, a week-long luxury trip to Hawaii. The rules were simple: the further away your college was from home, the more mystery boxes you got to draw. Two days ago, my parents forced me to enroll in a local community college. Meanwhile, Stella's college was in New York, over a thousand miles away. My heart sank. I expected nothing from this game. My sister, Stella, casually tossed one box to me and swept the remaining ones into her arms. She eagerly ripped open her first box and waved the slip of paper in the air, grinning from ear to ear. The next moment, Mom placed a real estate deed into her hands. "Since Stella is going so far, we bought you a condo in New York. If you don't like the dorms, your dad and I can fly over and stay with you anytime." Then, Mom tossed a debit card onto my lap. "Since you're staying local, we're moving to New York. We'll wire your allowance to this card from now on." I took the card and opened my mouth to speak, but Trevor pulled out four plane tickets with a dazzling smile. "Off to Hawaii. Stella wanted to see the ocean. Let's have some fun before college starts." The tickets had already been booked. There was none for me. I gripped the debit card tightly, comforting myself. At least I still had money to pay for my tuition. But three days later, my tuition payment failed. The number flashing on the screen made me freeze instantly. Balance: $1. It wasn't even enough to cover the bank's processing fee. A sudden chill rushed down my spine. It turned out that in this "mystery box game," Stella got the mystery. But for me, from beginning to end, everything had been rigged.
Laughter drifted in from the living room. "Mom, how does this dress look for the beach?" Stella twirled in front of the mirror. My brother, Trevor, stood nearby with five or six dresses draped over his arm. Mom stood at the kitchen door, her face creasing with a warm smile. "Beautiful! Stella, you're a natural-born model. You look stunning in everything." The edges of the debit card pressed hard into my palm. I forced the words out of my tight throat. "Mom... there's only $1 on this card." Before I could finish, the atmosphere in the living room shifted instantly. The smiles vanished from everyone's faces. Mom grabbed a spatula from the kitchen and whacked me hard on the head. She acted as if she hadn't heard a word. "All you do is laze around in your room! Get in here and help with dinner!" I couldn't hold back my grievance and anger any longer. "Mom! I said there's only $1 on this card! The tuition deadline is tomorrow!" In eighteen years, this was the only card I had ever received from my parents. That was why I had clutched it so desperately in my hand. For an entire night. The room fell into a dead silence. Stella's eyes welled up with tears, and they began to roll down her cheeks on cue. "Serena, I was short on cash when I bought my new phone yesterday... so I used that card." A wave of fury rushed to my head. I forgot how to breathe for a second. "That was my card! It was my mystery box! How could you..." Mom practically flew across the room and slapped me hard across the face. "You're the older sister! Isn't it only natural for you to let Stella have things?" "How could she? Because you're the older sister, that's why!" The stinging pain on my cheek radiated to the back of my head. My face was forced to the side. Because I was the older sister, all the family resources belonged to her. The love of my parents and Trevor belonged to her, too. The night before my SATs, Mom drugged my water with sleeping pills. Everyone in the house knew about it. Because I missed a crucial section of the exam, I ran to the test center crying. But Mom only stood there with her hands on her hips, speaking coldly. "If you score too high, Stella will be sad. You need to let her shine." Yet, when the results came out, my score was still higher than hers. I was still better than her. I wanted to apply to colleges in New York, but Mom snatched my laptop and locked me in my room. No one cared about my ruined future. On the day the application closed, she walked into my room with a cup of coffee and casually said: "Stella can only get into a mediocre university in New York, and it costs a fortune. You have to make a sacrifice for her." "You'll attend the local state college. It's close to home and costs very little." I covered my face, a deep, hollow sadness carving through my heart. "What about me? How am I supposed to pay my tuition?" Mom didn't answer. She turned and went back to the kitchen. Trevor went back to holding up dresses against Stella. The living room buzzed with laughter again. My words were like a tiny pebble dropped into the ocean, leaving no ripple. My spine went stiff. I stood there, feeling utterly helpless and humiliated. Dad, who was sitting on the sofa, turned around and frowned at me. "Serena, didn't your mom tell you to help out? Why are you still standing there? Are you just waiting to be fed?" One accusation after another was thrown at me. Like a mindless puppet, I walked into the kitchen. Every dish on the dinner table was covered in heavy hot sauce. Stella took a spoonful of the spicy chicken, and the entire plate was immediately moved right in front of her. Mom smiled warmly. "Eat up if you like it." I took small bites of my plain salad, my stomach throbbing with a dull pain. Ever since I developed a stomach ulcer, Stella suddenly claimed she loved spicy food. The dishes on the table became heavier and spicier. Even when I made my own salad, they would pour hot sauce all over it the moment I set it on the table. My throat felt like it was filled with broken glass. I gripped my fork tightly, my vision blurring. I didn't reach for any of the main dishes, and no one asked why. I put down my fork, and no one noticed. The cracked screen of my phone on the desk buzzed. It was a message from Mrs. Vance, my high school advisor. "Serena, it's such a shame. With your academic record, you could have easily gotten into an Ivy League. I suggest you retake the SATs next year. I can get you a full tuition waiver." I looked over at the dining table. All the food was piled up in front of Stella. They didn't plan to leave. They just sat there, chatting and laughing while watching her eat. I shoved the debit card back into my desk drawer and typed a reply. "Thank you, Mrs. Vance. I want to retake the exam."
The birthday dinner that night was booked by Trevor half a month in advance. When we were born, Stella let me come out one minute earlier. In return, I had yielded to her for eighteen years. An eight-tier cake stood in the center of the room. Stella wore a stunning emerald-green dress. Mom, Dad, and Trevor held up their phones and cameras. Flashlights blinked across Stella's face one after another. She shone like a precious gem. I stood a few yards away, wearing a wrinkled, faded white shirt. I clutched the hem of my shirt, my chest feeling incredibly tight. Stella had dozens of photo albums and hard drives full of videos from her childhood. Her first steps, her first meal... Everything was perfectly recorded. My only photo was from when I was ten years old. I had swiped a tiny bit of frosting from Stella's cake with my finger. Furious, she slammed the entire cake onto my face. She screamed and shoved the whipped cream into my eyes, rubbing it into my hair. "This is my cake! You thief! Eat it then! Eat it!" Mom grabbed me by the collar, spitting in my face as she yelled. "Serena! Why must you always steal from Stella?" The overly sweet cream slid into my mouth, but only bitterness spread in my heart. I lifted my head from the cream. Stella was laughing so hard she was in tears. That was the exact moment Trevor snapped the photo. Even in that photo, I only occupied a tiny corner. Later, even that corner was covered up by a cute sticker. Mom had said: "You looked too ugly crying. It ruins the aesthetic of the album." Their laughter kept ringing in my ears. I just wanted to run away. But as I turned to leave, a waiter carrying a tray of hot soup bumped into me, and the boiling broth poured right over my shoulder. A searing pain erupted across my back. I let out a sharp scream. The waitress quickly helped me to the side, apologizing frantically. "I'm so sorry, sweetie! Are you okay? Do we need to go to the hospital?" She was so panicked that tears were already pooling in her eyes. I forced a weak smile and bit my lip. "I'm fine. It's okay." Suddenly, Mom rushed over, her face turning dark and hostile. "Serena Davis! Do you not have eyes? Look at all this wasted food!" "Get out of here and change your clothes. Stop embarrassing us!" Looking at the annoyance and impatience in Mom's eyes, tears welled up, but I couldn't say a single word. Her mouth kept moving, spitting out endless complaints. "You always look so miserable, like the whole world owes you something." "You've never been able to handle public settings. All you do is embarrass us. You aren't even half as good as Stella." The waitress gently patted my shoulder, her eyes filled with pity. My mind went completely numb. I didn't know how to react. On my fourteenth birthday, I got my first period. My pants were stained with a large patch of blood, and I didn't even realize it. Mom dragged me to the center of the living room in front of all our relatives, her voice dripping with mockery. "Look at this shameless, embarrassing girl." I was pointed at and whispered about by our relatives for half an hour. That day, the last shred of warmth I had for this family died. But when Stella got her first period, Mom prepared everything for her in advance. She even called her school to get her a three-day leave. Dad bought her giant plushies to cheer her up. Trevor made her warm heating pads and pain relief teas one cup after another. Mom finally grew tired of yelling. She pointed at me and gave a final order. "Go change and get back here in thirty minutes. It's your birthday too." "Don't go hiding in your room. I don't want people talking behind our backs, calling us partial parents." I looked up. Mom had already taken the camera back to take pictures of Stella.
The waitress lent me a spare set of restaurant staff uniform to wear. When the fabric touched my skin, it felt like a thousand needles pricking my raw flesh. I took a sharp breath of cold air. Just then, my phone buzzed with a text from Trevor. "Serena, did you get burned? Are you okay?" I stared at the screen, dazed for a second. I typed in the reply box: "I'm fine. Thanks, Trevor." Before I could hit send, another text popped up. "Since you're fine, run over to the East District and buy a smoothie. Stella wants one." The East District was twenty-five miles away. A taxi ride would take at least forty minutes. I looked down, a self-deprecating smile forming on my lips. How could I ever expect anyone in this family to actually care about me? Three months ago, during class, a burning pain shot through my stomach, as if a red-hot iron had been dropped inside. The next second, I was rolling on the floor. A metallic taste rushed up my throat, and the ground was instantly stained with blood. Mrs. Vance rushed me to the emergency room. The doctor said it was a perforated stomach ulcer. The doctor asked for my family's contact info eight times. Mrs. Vance called every number, but they were all disconnected. It wasn't until the day I was discharged that I ran into them at the hospital lobby. Mom was holding Stella's arm, looking highly annoyed. "Where on earth have you been hiding these past few days? Stella sprained her ankle during gym class, and you weren't even there to help. What kind of sister are you?" My lips were pale, and I could barely stand. But I still held onto a tiny shred of hope as I explained. "Mom, I had a ruptured ulcer. I threw up a lot of blood." Her expression didn't change at all. I continued: "Why were all the emergency numbers you gave the school disconnected?" Mom's brows knitted into a tight, angry knot. "Stop making things up. Aren't you standing here perfectly fine? What disconnected numbers? I have no idea what you're talking about." The blood in my veins turned to ice. Trevor's texts kept spamming my screen. "Serena Davis, why aren't you here yet? Forget it, I'll go buy it myself. You're utterly useless." At the VIP dining table, Dad was red-faced from drinking. He had his arm around Stella, laughing so hard his shoulders shook. "Our Stella is going to New York!" Uncle Mike, who was sitting next to him, asked, "Which school?" Dad's eyes flashed with a hint of guilt. He laughed it off. "She chose a great major. New York has so many opportunities. We bought a condo there, so the whole family is moving to keep her company." Uncle Mike casually asked, "What about Serena? Did she get into a college in New York too?" Before Dad could speak, Mom let out a disdainful sneer. "With her grades and attitude? She's meant to stay in a small town forever." "We enrolled her in the local community college. It's a realistic path for someone like her." "As parents, we have to think long-term. Serena just isn't cut out for the big city." Uncle Mike lowered his head and didn't say another word. On the day the SAT scores were released, my parents spent three hours worrying over Stella's low score. They stayed up for three nights straight to help her find a mediocre college in New York. They called it "doing everything to give her a head start in life." But for me, they only took three seconds to lock me out of my future. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. The future they chose for me? I didn't want it! Uncle Mike stood up and waved at me. "Serena, why are you so late?" I forced a smile, but before I could take a few steps, Mom violently pushed me away. I stumbled backward. My burned back slammed hard against the edge of a table. A sharp, agonizing pain ripped through my skin. Mom's eyes were bloodshot, the veins on her temples throbbing with rage. "Serena Davis! I told you to change your clothes, and you show up wearing a waitress uniform?" "Are you doing this to spite us?" "If people see this, they'll think we're abusing you!" My ears rang, and tears blurred my eyes. "Aren't you?" I whispered. Mom froze for a fraction of a second, and then an even wilder fury erupted from her. "Serena Davis! You ungrateful brat! I went through painful labor to give birth to you, and I raised you for eighteen years. And in the end, you think I'm abusing you?"
The air in the dining hall became suffocatingly tense. Mom's screeching voice echoed off the walls. My chest heaved uncontrollably. "I wish you had never given birth to me!" Hearing this, Dad rushed over and kicked me hard behind my knee. I collapsed, my knees slamming heavily onto the hard floor. He looked down at me, his voice cold and sharp. "Serena Davis, you are completely out of line." He shook his head, his words dripping with venom. "Today is your eighteenth birthday. We have raised you for eighteen years. Since you want to cut ties with this family, let's make things clear in front of everyone today. From this moment on, we are no longer your parents, and you are no longer our daughter." "We will act as if we never had you. Whatever happens to you in the future has nothing to do with us!" Uncle Mike hurriedly grabbed Dad's arm. "Andrew! You can't just say things like that!" Then he ran over to me, his eyes full of panic. "Serena, sweetie, just apologize to your parents." But neither side moved. Uncle Mike let out a heavy sigh. I looked at Mom. She looked like she was heartbroken, leaning on Stella's shoulder and sobbing dramatically. Seconds ticked by. The silent standoff between my family and me continued. Finally, I let out a slow breath. My voice was eerily calm. "Fine." I stood up. I didn't bow my head. I didn't apologize. The entire room fell dead silent. Dad didn't give me another look. He put his arm around Mom and walked out of the hall. Stella, who was walking behind them, suddenly turned back. She grabbed a pile of dirty table rags and threw them right at my face. "Serena, since you love being a waitress so much, clean all these tables! Have fun!" I sat on the floor in silence until all the guests had left. When I got home at eight that night, Trevor was already tossing my suitcases out of the front door. "Serena, you can't blame Dad for this. You went too far. We've already sold this house." "We're going to Hawaii for vacation tomorrow, and then we're flying straight to New York to move in with Stella. We're leaving tomorrow morning." He gave me a cold, distant look. "Good luck to you." The door slammed shut. Through the window, I could see Mom and Stella sitting on the couch watching TV, laughing. There wasn't a trace of sadness on their faces. The wheels on my old suitcase were broken, and the zipper was busted. I only dragged it a few feet before my clothes spilled onto the dirty pavement. The hot summer breeze blew from the end of the hallway, but I felt entirely frozen. A few minutes later, Mom's voice drifted through the thin window. "Now that we've finally gotten rid of that burden, we can focus on Stella in New York." "Andrew, your plan was brilliant. Forcing her to cut ties in public was perfect." Dad laughed in agreement. "Exactly. We raised her to eighteen. We've done our duty." My chest felt like it was crushed under a heavy weight. My throat was tight, and I couldn't even let out a sound. Something was gnawing at my heart, cutting away the very last piece of affection I had for them. It turned out that in the eyes of the people I called family for eighteen years, I was nothing but a burden. I didn't bother picking up the broken suitcase. I left it there, along with my past, in that suffocating house. In September, I went back to high school and sat in my familiar classroom. Stella's Snapchat and Instagram stories were filled with updates. "My first time seeing the ocean, and it's with my amazing family." "Being my parents' daughter is the best thing ever. The whole family moved to New York just to stay with me. I'm crying tears of joy." The attached picture showed the deed to the New York condo. Only her name was on it. Their dinner table was still covered with all the dishes she loved. I scrolled down quickly, my phone lagging. Maybe it was a sign telling me to stop looking back. I closed my eyes, tossed the phone into the trash can, and gripped my pen tightly. My future was mine to write, and mine alone.
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