While accompanying my parents to transfer the title of my new house, I saw a video my sister posted online titled "A Toast to the Past." In the video, my sister was smiling, basking in my parents' adoring gazes. "First toast: When I was little, I was misdiagnosed with leukemia. My parents had a second child to save me, but it turned out to be a false alarm. Afraid they couldn't take care of me properly, they sent my little sister to live in the countryside." "Second toast: After my sister came back, our family went bankrupt. But for the sake of my image, my parents still threw me a huge birthday party at a luxury hotel." "Third toast: I didn't get into my dream college, so my parents sold everything to send me abroad. Now, I'm happily living off them." "Fourth toast: To my parents again. I'm getting married the day after tomorrow. To give me status in my husband's family, Mom is secretly transferring the family house to my name tomorrow." I realized I couldn't lie to myself anymore. 1 I was alone in the bathroom when I saw the video. The air around me seemed to freeze. I zoomed in on the video, playing it over and over. Three faces I knew better than anyone. Unwilling to believe it, I switched to a burner account and commented: [Does the poster have a sister?] Surprisingly, my sister replied quickly. [The house was actually bought by my sister. We're transferring it to my parents today, but she doesn't know it's ultimately going to me~] I gripped my phone tight, then let go. My mom’s voice urged from outside: "Paige, did you fall in? Hurry up, our number is almost called!" I wiped my eyes but couldn't open my mouth. Recently, I bought a three-bedroom apartment downtown with my own savings, paid in full. When my parents found out, they repeatedly persuaded me to transfer the title to them. "It's safer in our name. If your boyfriend is just after your property, this protects you." My sister, Chloe, chimed in: "Mom and Dad are right. It's not safe for a girl to have property in her name." I discussed it with my boyfriend, Liam. He was furious. "Paige, do you just do whatever your parents say? You're an adult. Can't you think for yourself?" We had a huge fight. Subconsciously, I believed my parents. I ignored Liam's hesitation. Walking out of the bathroom, I rubbed my dry eyes. My mom didn't notice anything wrong. She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the registration desk, scolding me as usual. "You child, you're always so slow. You're nothing like your sister." I paused. Thinking of the video, I couldn't help but ask: "Mom, why did you send me to the countryside when I was born?" 2 As soon as I spoke, my mom's face changed. Embarrassment mixed with guilt, finally settling into impatience. "I told you, your dad and I were busy. We couldn't handle two kids, and you were a high-needs baby. We had no choice." I swallowed the bitterness in my throat. I already knew the answer. Chloe and I are only ten months apart. When she was born, she was misdiagnosed with leukemia. My parents heard cord blood could save her, so my mom risked her life to have a second child immediately. Me. But fate loves a joke. As soon as I was born prematurely, the hospital revealed Chloe was misdiagnosed. She just had malnutrition. Meanwhile, I was born six pounds four ounces, healthy and loud. Back then, my parents were hoping for a son. They couldn't bear to send Chloe away, so I became the abandoned one. When I was six, Grandpa died. My parents brought Chloe back for the funeral. That's when I learned from Grandma's whispers that I wasn't an unwanted orphan. I had parents and a sister. After the funeral, Grandma held my mom's hand, teary-eyed, saying she was getting too old to care for me and wanted them to take me back to the city. I hid behind Grandma, terrified of leaving her, crying my eyes out. My mom just frowned and said, "Mom, it's not that I don't want to. Look at her, she's not close to us at all. Taking care of Chloe is already exhausting; I can't handle her." In the end, I was left behind. From that day on, the village ladies looked at me with careful pity. Like tiny needles pricking my heart. Not painful, just uncomfortable. Later, I studied hard and got into a top middle school in the county with the highest scores. That's when my parents seemed to remember they had a forgotten daughter in the countryside. When I first returned to the city, I gathered the courage to ask why they sent me away. Their answer then was word-for-word the same as my mom's answer now. 3 I knew everything. I knew about the misdiagnosis, their desire for a son, their hesitation-free choice to keep Chloe. As long as they were willing to explain, even if it was the same lie, I chose to believe it. Because deep down, I wished those reasons were true. I wished they cared about me, even a little. "Mom, Dad, do you know what day it is?" I sat on the cold bench, looking at my anxious parents. They froze. "What day is it?" Recovering quickly, my mom smiled coyly. "I know, it's an auspicious day for property transfer! You silly child, being superstitious!" Bitterness surged in my throat, suffocating me. "Today is my birthday." Silence again. Memories flooded back. When I was first brought home, before I could adjust, Dad's business went bankrupt. The big apartment, the car, the cabinet full of dolls in Chloe's room—all mortgaged overnight. My birthday coincided with moving day. The truck rumbled downstairs. Mom busied herself in the kitchen and brought out a bowl of longevity noodles with two pieces of bok choy. Red-eyed, she told me: "Paige, I'm sorry. We have no money. I can only make you noodles. Look at your sister, she didn't even get noodles for her birthday. You need to be sensible and yield to her." I thought Chloe really suffered. From then on, I stopped celebrating birthdays. I yielded everything to her. I washed the dishes she didn't want to wash. I wore the old clothes she didn't like. I never asked for the toys she demanded. Until the college entrance exam results came out. I held my acceptance letter to a top university, my fingertips burning. In the living room, Mom was crying over Chloe failing to get in. "My poor baby, we can't afford two kids in college. How can we face Paige..." Those words stabbed my heart. Watching Chloe's grievance and Mom's tears, I silently stuffed my acceptance letter deep into a drawer. That night, Chloe said she was going south to work to "support my education." My parents sighed in silence. "Chloe is sacrificing so much." She left that night with her luggage. A few days later, Mom held a recruitment flyer. "Your sister is working. We can't afford your tuition. You should go work in a factory too." For the next three years, I worked on an assembly line until my hands were calloused. I kept $50 a month and sent the rest home. My parents always said Chloe was suffering in the south, making it impossible for me to mention going back to school. Until I saw Chloe's video today. It wasn't that we were too poor for two bowls of noodles. The grievance of "poverty" was reserved only for me. Mom's "suffering" meant Chloe didn't have to work in a factory. Chloe's "work" was studying abroad. And I, who gave up my dreams and suffered for three years, was the fool kept in the dark. The cold broadcast called Mom's number, pulling me back. Looking at my anxious parents, I suddenly felt choked by that bowl of noodles from when I was twelve. 4 "Oh, stop it. You're an adult, why are you so petty?" Mom waved her hand dismissively. "It's just a birthday. I'll make you longevity noodles when we get home." Dad stood up, urging, "Alright, enough talk. Let's transfer the title." I shook off Mom's hand. While they weren't looking, I snatched the number slip. I tore it to shreds. "Mom, Dad, I have work. Let's do this another time." Mom stared at my hand and screamed: "Paige! Why did you tear it?!" Her voice was shrill and trembling, eyes fixed on the confetti falling from my fingers. Dad's face darkened instantly, anger burning in his tone: "Do you know how hard it was to get this number? Your mom and I came yesterday to ask about the process and lined up before dawn today! You just tore it up? What are you doing?" 5 Their "important business" was just taking my property to give Chloe face in her new family. Dad's desperation was undisguised. He didn't notice my knuckles turning white. I stepped back, avoiding their hands. I dropped the last pieces of paper. "I told you, work emergency. Another time." Seeing my resolve, Mom's tone softened instantly, coaxing: "What can't wait? The transfer takes a moment. Afterwards, Mom will take you to eat something good, better than noodles, okay?" She moved closer, trying to take my hand, desperation in her eyes. I stepped back again. Dad's face was grim, brow furrowed hard. He guessed with certainty: "Did that boyfriend of yours say something? Why did you change your mind?" Mom's brow furrowed too, her softness gone. Her voice rose, sharp and scolding: "I knew that boyfriend wasn't good! He's manipulating you! Paige, don't be stupid. Only Mom and Dad truly care about you! Let's talk at home, I'll get a new number. We must transfer the title today!" She turned toward the machine. Watching one rushing to judge and the other rushing to transfer, the fire in my chest exploded. I couldn't hold it back. I screamed with all my strength. My voice trembled. "Are you thinking about me, or have you only ever thought about Chloe?!"
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