1 It was my twentieth New Year's Eve, and like every year before, my parents were too busy with work to celebrate with me. I went to watch the fireworks alone, and that’s when I saw them. With another girl. They took her to a lavish seafood dinner. They bought her a million-dollar necklace. They gifted her a brand-new Lamborghini. And the way they looked at her—it was pure, unadulterated adoration. I heard them cooing, “Crystal, you’re more our daughter than our own flesh and blood.” “You’re the child we love the most.” Then, she turned and her eyes met mine across the crowd. A provocative smirk played on her lips. The simple warmth of the roasted sweet potato in my hands turned to ash. I looked down at my own outfit, a collection of thrift-store finds that probably cost less than ten dollars, and a bitter, acidic feeling churned in my stomach. … I ran home like a fugitive, burrowing under my covers and sobbing into my pillow. In a fit of grief, I hurled the only teddy bear I owned across the room. It was a gift for my eighth birthday—the only gift I’d received in twenty years. I cherished it, holding it every night as I slept, because my mother had sewn it by hand. I remembered that time. She had stayed up late every night, her fingers pricked and bleeding, sometimes even skipping meals to finish it. Seeing her sacrifice hurt me, so I learned to be a good, undemanding daughter. Ever since elementary school, I’d collected bottles after class to make a little extra money. In college, I lived on a diet of plain rice and water, my clothes a patchwork of repairs. I ignored the whispers and the jokes from other students. I held my parents’ words in my heart like a mantra: “We’re a poor family, Ava. Every penny counts.” But tonight, I learned the truth. My parents weren’t poor. They were supporting a secret princess, showering her with a life of endless luxury. I didn’t sleep at all, my tears soaking through my pillow. My mind reeled, unable to make sense of any of it. “Ava, time to get up.” “The sun’s already high in the sky, sleepyhead.” I heard my parents’ voices from the living room. I wiped my eyes and walked out of my room. Seeing them back in their usual faded, worn-out clothes felt surreal, like I was in a dream. “Ava, we brought you something from the company dinner last night. It’s all shrimp and crab.” My mother handed me a takeout container. Any other time, I would have danced with joy, thrown my arms around her neck, and rushed to heat up the food. This time, I didn’t move. I remembered the seafood restaurant. I remembered Crystal. It hit me like a punch to the gut. Every New Year’s Day, the special meal my mother brought me was probably Crystal’s leftovers. Who was their real daughter? “And I’ve got cookies and candy for you,” my father said, pulling a handful from his coat pocket. “Just as sweet as my best girl.” Crystal’s rejects, no doubt. And I was the fool who had treasured these crumbs every year, basking in the glow of their fake warmth. Noticing my unusual silence, my mother pulled me into a hug, studying my face. “Ava, you seem off today.” “Your eyes are so red, and you look pale. Are you getting sick?” How could my eyes not be red after crying all night? My vision was still blurry. “Come on, Ava, I’m taking you to the doctor,” my father said, already on his feet. He hadn't even had a sip of water, yet he was frantic with worry. They were always so gentle. They had always cared for me so deeply. I remembered a winter night when I had a high fever. It was pouring rain outside. My father wrapped me in a blanket, held me tight, and ran all the way to the hospital. Not a single drop of rain touched me. He was soaked to the bone, shivering violently from the cold, but his only concern was for me. And this same loving father had been lying to me for twenty years. Raising me in poverty. Showering Crystal with wealth. The thought made a fresh wave of grief wash over me, and I started crying again. My parents panicked, asking what was wrong, if someone had bullied me. I shook my head and said, deliberately, “I went to see the fireworks by myself last night. I saw a beautiful girl with her parents. They bought her so many wonderful things.” My voice broke. “But I was all alone. I’ve been all alone for so many years.” My parents exchanged a look. A flicker of panic crossed their faces. It was gone in an instant, but I saw it. My mother’s eyes reddened, and she squeezed out a few tears, pulling me tighter. “Oh, Ava,” she said, her voice thick with guilt. “It’s our fault. We’re useless. We can’t give you a life of luxury, and we’re always too busy with work to be with you.” Before, her tears would have made me rush to comfort her. Now, all I saw was a masterful performance, one that had fooled me for two decades. Too busy with work? Or too busy taking care of Crystal? “Ava.” My father took on his familiar role as the wise educator. “We may be poor, but we have our pride. There’s no need to be envious of others.” I wasn’t envious of others. I was envious of Crystal—the adopted daughter who was treated better than their own. “Okay, okay, let’s not talk about this. I’ll go heat up your food,” my mother said, changing the subject. She warmed up the seafood, but even though it was a delicacy I’d never had before, I couldn’t bring myself to touch it. I just picked at my plain rice. “Ava, why aren’t you eating the shrimp and crab?” “You’re still growing! You need proper nutrition.” They started shelling the shrimp and picking out the crab meat for me, filling my bowl. But the food tasted like cardboard. Their hypocrisy was suffocating. They preached about nutrition while spending all their money on Crystal. The irony was sickening. After the meal, I took a deep breath. “I want a new computer.” It was the first time I had ever asked for anything. The laptop I used for my university classes was a second-hand clunker I’d bought for fifty dollars. It froze every time I tried to open a document. But I’d never dared to ask for a new one, terrified of adding to our financial burden. In fact, any money I made from part-time jobs, I gave to my mother to help pay off our supposed “debts.” My father sighed heavily. “Ava, can you just make do with the one you have? We still haven’t paid off all our debts.” “Yes, Ava, please don’t be difficult. Once you graduate and get a job, you can save up and buy one yourself,” my mother added, her face a mask of weary concern. Of course. This was exactly what I expected. A chill crept through me as the scene from last night replayed in my mind. A sports car, a diamond necklace, millions of dollars spent without a second thought. But a computer for their own daughter, a simple tool for her education, was too much to ask. Sensing my despair, my father sat down beside me, forcing a smile. “Hey, honey, how about we all go to the movies tonight?” “Yes, that’s a great idea! We’ll even get you a big bucket of popcorn,” my mother chimed in brightly. “Okay,” I said after a moment’s hesitation. Spending a holiday with my parents had always been my deepest wish. They both let out a visible sigh of relief. Just then, my father’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, and his expression shifted. He exchanged another one of those looks with my mother. “Oh, shoot. That’s Mr. Henderson. He wants to meet to discuss a work issue.” “Ava, you stay here, okay? And don’t go out. There are a lot of strange people around during the holidays.” With that hurried instruction, they rushed out the door. A work issue? Really? A knot of suspicion tightened in my gut. I slipped out of the house and followed them, just in time to see that familiar Lamborghini pull up. Crystal got out and threw herself into my mother’s arms. The gesture was so practiced, so much more natural than my own hugs ever were. A doting smile spread across my mother’s face. My father, however, put on a stern expression. “I told you not to come here! Why did you disobey me?” Too late. The secret was already out. “But I missed you!” Crystal whined, pulling out a set of movie tickets. “Mom, Dad, please come to the movies with me tonight? The last time we went was two months ago.” My parents hesitated, glancing at each other. Sensing their reluctance, Crystal pouted. “Daddy, Mommy, am I not your favorite daughter anymore?” “Of course you are! You will always be our favorite,” my mother said instantly. “Is it because Ava wanted you to spend time with her?” Crystal asked, blinking her big, innocent eyes. “If so, that’s okay, you should go. I don’t mind.” Her saccharine, manipulative tone made my skin crawl. “That’s not it at all,” my mother denied quickly. “We have a client meeting today. You go home first, and we’ll see if we have time tonight.” “That’s right,” my father added. “If we’re free, I’ll call you.” “Okay, then,” Crystal said, her lip trembling as she disappeared back into her car. I felt sick to my stomach, but I didn’t confront them. I went back home and pretended nothing had happened. I wanted to see who they would choose tonight. I didn’t even bother to fix myself up. Usually, when I went out with them, I would wash my hair, maybe put on a little perfume. That evening, my father came to me. “Ava, the company just called. Your mom and I have to go in and work overtime tonight, so…” “It’s fine. You should go,” I said, cutting him off. “Okay, then. Be a good girl and go to bed early.” “There are some noodles in the kitchen. If you get hungry, you can make some for yourself.” They breathed another sigh of relief and hurried away. I watched them go, tears streaming down my face. In the end, they chose their adopted daughter over their real one. All I wanted was one evening. Just one. Was that too much to ask? Why were they doing this to me? I stormed into my room and pulled out the box of birthday cards they had given me over the years. “Ava, we hope your new year is filled with joy. We love you!” “Ava, another year older! Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. Health and happiness are what matter most.” “Our Ava is the most beautiful, most thoughtful girl in the world! You’re our little angel.” These cards were my only birthday presents. I had treasured them because they were filled with their love for me. But it was all fake. I tore the cards to shreds. Then I tore up every academic award, every certificate of achievement I had ever earned. I had worked so hard, spending every spare moment in the library, even turning down a chance to study abroad just so I could stay close to them, find a good job, and improve our family’s life. Now, all that effort felt like a bitter joke. Another sleepless night. Another night spent crying. But somewhere in the darkness, a thought crystallized in my mind. I needed to live for myself. The next morning, I called my academic advisor. “Professor Davis, is that spot for the overseas study program still available?” “Yes, yes! We were hoping you’d say yes!” Professor Davis sounded thrilled. “You’re my most brilliant student, Ava. This opportunity will open so many doors for you.” “And don’t worry about tuition or living expenses,” he added. “The university will take care of everything.” Hearing his words, a wave of genuine warmth washed over me. “Thank you, Professor,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. Just as I hung up, my parents returned. “Ava, come and see what we brought you!” I walked out of my bedroom. It was a caramel apple, my childhood favorite. “Ava, we’re so sorry about last night,” my mother said, placing the apple in my hand and stroking my hair. “We have to go on a business trip, but when we get back, I promise we’ll take you to the movies.” “And we’ll buy you two buckets of popcorn!” my father added. “Okay,” I replied, my voice flat. They didn’t seem to notice my detachment, assuming I was being my usual, understanding self. They packed their bags, left me twenty dollars, and rushed out again. “Oh, by the way,” my mother said, popping her head back in the door a minute later. “If any packages arrive while we’re gone, don’t open them, okay?” In the past, I would have been heartbroken to see them leave. This time, I barely noticed. I was too busy filling out my study abroad application. That evening, a local courier delivered a package. I signed for it, but instead of putting it in my parents’ room like I always did, I looked at the sender’s address. Since my mother had specifically warned me not to open it, it was almost certainly from Crystal. After all, she wasn’t allowed to come to our house directly. Before I left, there was one question I needed answered. I had to see this “Crystal” my parents had adopted, to understand what made her so much better than me, so worthy of their love. I went to the address on the package. It was a standalone villa with two bodyguards stationed outside. The main gate was open, and I could clearly see Crystal inside, playing a grand piano. She was dressed in designer clothes, the picture of elegance. The contrast between her and my own shabby appearance was stark. Even the bodyguards looked at me like I was a beggar. “Go beg somewhere else.” “This isn't the place for you! Get lost!” they snarled, trying to shoo me away. But I stood my ground, my eyes fixed on the scene inside. Crystal noticed me. Her hands lifted from the keys, and she rose gracefully. “It’s alright,” she told the guards. “Let her in.” I stepped into the villa. The opulent decor, the soaring ceilings—I thought of my own tiny room, barely big enough for a single bed, and a fresh wave of bitterness washed over me. “You’ve always thought you lived a happy life, haven’t you?” Crystal began, her voice dripping with condescension. “Your teachers, your classmates—they all probably told you what loving parents you have.” It was true. My whole life, up until a few days ago, I had believed I was the luckiest girl in the world. “But from where I stand, your happiness is a joke.” A smirk played on her lips. “Look at this house. This piano. Look at the clothes I’m wearing, the jewelry I own.” “Everything is custom-made. And what have they given you? Scraps. Leftovers.” “Oh, and by the way,” she added, twisting the knife. “Every time they had to ‘work overtime,’ they were with me.” Her words were like daggers, piercing my heart. My eyes started to burn. “But… I’m a good student. I’m a good daughter,” I stammered, looking at her, lost. “Why… why…” “Because you’re plain and you have no class!” she laughed out loud. “You’re not beautiful and sophisticated like me. I’m the kind of daughter who makes them proud, who reflects well on them.” Her voice turned pitying. “The only reason they even keep you around is because they feel sorry for you. Guilt.” “I remember them saying you were born all wrinkled and ugly. You never really grew out of it, did you? A lost cause.” “They also said you have no social skills and a weak personality.” Her words hit me like physical blows. I stumbled backward, nearly falling. It was true. I was ordinary-looking, thin and unassuming. I was awkward in conversation, lacking her effortless grace. But my professor once told me: when you lose in life, do not lose your composure. I choked back my tears. “Fine. If they love you so much, I won’t fight for them anymore.” “I don’t care about being their precious heiress.” I turned and walked away. Behind me, I could hear Crystal’s triumphant laughter, but it couldn’t touch me anymore. With my parents gone for the next few days, I finalized my travel arrangements. Before I left, I wrote a farewell letter. It was the last act of a dutiful daughter. Two weeks later, my parents returned from their trip. They changed back into their old clothes and pushed open the front door with cheerful smiles. “Ava, my sweet girl, Mommy’s home!” “Daddy brought you some snacks! I know my little foodie will love them.” But there was no reply. I wasn’t there to run into their arms, shouting, “Welcome home! You must be tired!” I wasn’t there to bring them water or massage their shoulders. There was only a letter, lying silently on the table. My father frowned as he picked it up and tore it open. “By the time you read this, I will be far away.” “Crystal is beautiful and elegant. She can be the face of your family, and I understand why you would favor her. But I don’t think I’m worthless.” “So, I am going to pursue my own dreams.” “Don’t worry about me. And don’t try to find me.” I didn’t list my grievances. When you’ve been hurt enough, you stop feeling the need to complain. My father’s face went white. “Oh, no.” “Ava’s gone!” “She knows about Crystal…”
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