Right after high school graduation, I, the most homebody person I knew, chose a college two thousand miles away. My parents roared in fury, “All this over a single room?!” Yes. I was an only child from a middle-class family that owned three properties. Yet, for eighteen years, I was never allowed to have my own independent room. Chapter 1 At my eighteenth birthday party, I loudly made my wish in front of all our family and friends. “I want my own little room.” The room went silent. A relative looked utterly shocked: “She doesn’t have her own room? A girl her age needs some privacy.” “She’s an only child! My husband and I have two kids, and we gave up the living room just to make three bedrooms.” Ignoring the instant change in my parents’ expressions, I gave a frank smile: “That’s right, I don’t have my own room.” My dad struggled to force out a laugh: “She’s kidding. We only have one daughter and three houses. Would we deny her a room?” My mom desperately tried to signal me with her eyes: “Sunny is just messing with us. Quick, make another wish.” I sighed inwardly and stated solemnly: “Mom and Dad, I’m eighteen now. I genuinely want my own private space.” The room fell silent again. Relatives exchanged glances, then looked at my parents with complicated expressions. Both my parents had stable, respectable government jobs. They projected the image of doting parents who spoiled their only daughter. Yet, their own flesh-and-blood didn’t have a bedroom? My Grandma suddenly started crying, “It’s my fault. I took over my granddaughter’s room. I’m so old, I’ve become a burden to my children and grandchildren.” I felt a pang of guilt. Grandma had always been distant, but living with her for over a decade meant I wasn’t completely devoid of feeling for her. Was I being too extreme? As I hesitated, a stinging slap landed hard across my face. My dad stood there, hand raised, breathing heavily. “You ungrateful kid! You haven’t even done anything, and you’re already blaming your Grandma.” My mom awkwardly rushed to pull my dad away, then worriedly checked my face. “Sunny, let’s talk at home. Your parents would never say no to you.” I stood frozen. I had briefly owned my own room. But when I was six, my grandpa passed away, and Grandma was moved from the countryside to live with us. We lived in a two-bedroom apartment. My parents had one, and Grandma had to share mine. I’ve wanted my own room and have been protesting since I was six. But every time I brought it up, they’d just laugh it off. Or they’d patronize me: “You and your Grandma are the same gender, what’s the big deal about privacy? Besides, if you don’t have enough space for your stuff, we can install two more shelves.” But what I needed was independent space, a room that belonged only to me! Under the stress of studying, I needed a place to decompress. I wanted my room filled with things I liked, not Grandma’s vitamins and drab, dusty clothes. Grandma snored, she ground her teeth, and the elderly wake up often. I was constantly sleep-deprived and dozed off during the day. For the three days of my finals, Grandma was finally picked up by my Uncle Kevin. Chapter 2 I thought it was finally over, that I could finally breathe. I was mentally decorating my room the way I wanted, picturing inviting friends over. But the moment my exams finished, Grandma was brought back. It was a total letdown. I had even humbly suggested to my parents: I could make a small partition in the utility room, the kitchen, or the balcony. Just a private space. Even if it was cramped or smelled a little, I didn’t care. My mom stared at me with the look you give a clueless child, scolding gently: “You’re our only beloved daughter. How could you sleep in the bathroom or kitchen? What would people say? It would be so embarrassing.” My dad chuckled, patting my head. “Silly girl. If my colleagues found out that I, the big head of the department, made my daughter sleep in the bathroom, I’d be drowned in judgment.” Knowing that protesting was futile, I had decided to go all-in today, hoping the relatives’ comments might finally motivate them to get me a room. More than anything, I wanted to remind my parents that I was eighteen, an adult, and I needed physical private space. Was this really such an extravagant request? The hotel restaurant was buzzing, but my dad’s bloodshot eyes were fixed on me. It seemed hitting me once wasn’t enough to satisfy his anger. My mom and the other guests were holding him back, saying something I couldn't make out. I felt like I couldn’t hear anything. My face was throbbing. I covered my cheek and ran out of the hotel. The evening breeze cleared my dizzy, miserable head. The streetlights cast a dim glow on the surrounding houses, and I felt utterly empty inside. My cousin, Dahlia, with whom I’ve always had a cold relationship, texted me: [I used to envy you when we were kids. Your parents both have government jobs, stable income. Unlike mine, hustling at the market for barely enough to feed and clothe me.] It was true. I always had the newest dresses and went to the most reputable tutoring centers. In terms of education and material possessions, my parents never seemed to hold back. When my peers complained about having to share snacks and toys with younger siblings, I even felt lucky to be an only child, my parents’ only darling. So, facing the fact that I didn't have a room, I even used to reassure myself that my parents must have their own reasons. After all, with their income and assets, getting me a room would be easy. I didn't reply. Dahlia’s message continued: [But I stopped envying you a long time ago. Want to know why?] I turned my phone off, ignoring Dahlia’s attempt to rub salt in the wound. I sat on a bridge. The river below was too dark to see the bottom. Just as I suddenly couldn't see the depth of my parents' affection for me. After an unknown amount of time, I heard a police siren. Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed the crowd gathered on the opposite side of the bridge. My mom was standing out, shouting: “Sunny! We had already decided to move! We just hadn’t told you yet! Please come down!” My dad’s eyes were also red, and he was violently slapping his own face: “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have hit you! It was just impulse!” I looked down at myself. I was sitting so close to the edge of the water. It seemed like if I stretched my leg, I’d fall in. It turned out to be a massive misunderstanding. I apologized to the police and quickly walked off the bridge. My parents hugged me tightly, as if I were some lost treasure they had miraculously recovered. Chapter 3 “Sunny, you are our most precious darling.” “That’s right. We’re going to finalize the new house tomorrow.” I didn’t explain. If I could finally get my own room, I’d let them misunderstand my actions just this once. Putting aside the room issue, they were indeed flawless in every other aspect of my life. My parents took me out for another dinner. It was my favorite, spicy hot pot. My parents couldn’t handle spice, but they watched me eat, their faces smiling and tender. One poured my drink, the other wiped my mouth. We looked like the most loving family of three, with me as the absolute center. A few girls at the next table shot me envious glances. In that moment, I soaked up all their parental affection. Satisfied that I had finally weathered the storm, and with a touch of defiance, I replied to Dahlia: [My parents decided to move to a bigger house. Keep envying me.] Dahlia didn’t reply immediately. I thought I had won. Dahlia should feel ashamed of her words. I even regretted my impulsiveness that day, causing my parents to lose face. They were clearly already planning to move. They were thinking of me. That night, Grandma was picked up by my Uncle Kevin, but her clothes and belongings remained. I knew she would keep staying with us. But it didn’t matter. I could tolerate it a little longer. I had endured so many years; dawn was finally here. I spent the night in my small room for the first time. I binge-watched a TV show, drank soda, and laughed freely. I threw trash wherever I wanted; I could always clean it up in the morning. I wore something skimpy, put my feet up on the desk, not worrying about being seen. I even pulled out old love notes written by boys at school from the bottom of my drawer. I read them out loud, shamelessly enjoying the admiration. The next day, I was more excited than my parents to look at houses. They were looking at a retirement-friendly community, quiet and peaceful, with a community cafeteria nearby. The community had just opened, and because the prices were good and the location was excellent, units were quickly selling out. When we looked, only a few three-bedroom and two-bedroom units were left. One three-bedroom unit wasn’t too high up, and all three rooms were spacious. The only drawback was the connecting corridor, which meant the light might not be great. I carefully watched my parents’ faces. Seeing no obvious dissatisfaction, I completely relaxed. I happily spun around in the smallest room. I imagined placing my small bed here, and a big wardrobe for my beloved Hanfu (traditional Chinese clothing). I wouldn’t have to worry about Grandma’s drab clothes mixed in, making them look out of place. I could also put all my figurines on the shelves, without worrying that Grandma’s poor eyesight would cause her to knock them down. The sales agent held up the contract: “Look how much the young lady loves it. You two should put a deposit down quickly.” My parents exchanged a glance, shaking their heads quickly. “We rushed out this morning and forgot our bank cards. We’ll come back this afternoon to sign.” Chapter 4 After viewing the house, our university group chat sent out a message: it was time to finalize our college applications. My dad smiled, asking me, “Your scores are good enough for a top local school. You can even come home on weekends.” My mom squeezed my hand. “That’s right. You’ve never left me. Honestly, I’m not ready to let you go.” I leaned into my mom’s arms. “I’m a Mama’s Girl, a Daddy’s Girl. I told you I wouldn’t go to a school more than twenty miles away.” My parents exchanged proud, hearty laughs. I knew we were all content. The previous day’s bitterness was completely gone. After all, what child holds a grudge against their parents? That evening, I was scrolling through my phone when I saw a new post from the sales agent we met today: [Another unit sold at Building 5! So happy!] My hand froze. Building 5 units were all large two-bedroom units, which the agent had emphasized. When we were viewing the house, the agent, trying to expand his network, had added my WeChat. My parents were whispering about the structure in the hallway and hadn’t noticed. His post was made around 3 or 4 PM, exactly when my parents went to put down the deposit. I had wanted to go with them, but my mom pinched my cheek. “My girl’s skin is too delicate. We can’t let you get a sunburn.” I had whined and asked them to bring me ice cream on the way back. My mom, not knowing which flavor I wanted, bought every flavor. I had happily posted a picture on my social media with the caption: [Love my parents the most.] I tried to stay calm: What if I misheard or misremembered? I suppressed my hammering heart and messaged the agent. The agent was in a great mood and quickly replied. “Your folks picked a great unit for you. Local parents really love their daughters. Even though it only has two bedrooms, it’s a perfect fit for a family of three.” My heart plummeted. My mind went blank. Dahlia’s message popped up at that moment: [Your mom once told my mom to have a son so I wouldn’t envy you anymore.] [I’m a true only child. You’re just a policy-only child. I’m not bragging; I just want you to see the truth, but clearly, you’re very slow.] No, that’s not right! I shook my head violently. What if Grandma doesn’t plan on living with us anymore? Maybe she has other plans? Clutching onto that last shred of hope, I slowly walked out of my room. My parents were sitting on the sofa, calculator in hand, discussing: “The money from selling this apartment can cover the remainder of the new house.” “The new house is move-in ready. We can probably just leave the furniture here.” They saw me and immediately waved me over. “Sunny, come help us with the calculations. Your young brain is much sharper.” I tried to keep my voice as normal and calm as possible. “Will Grandma still be living with us?” Chapter 5 My dad didn’t look up, answering casually: “Of course. I’m the eldest son. I have the responsibility of caring for your Grandma.” My mom frowned slightly but said nothing, continuing to calculate with her pen. Some details I had ignored suddenly became glaringly obvious. My Grandma has two sons. My mom had complained before, wondering why my Grandma didn’t go to my Uncle Kevin’s house. My dad had said, “The nephew is a boy. It’s inappropriate for him to live with my mom.” My mom never brought it up again. My mom isn't the type to tolerate everything. She once raged at my dad for forgetting to bring her local specialty food from a business trip, forcing him to take a long-distance bus to buy it again before she forgave him. Yet, ever since Grandma moved in, when my uncle came to sponge off us, my dad just turned a blind eye. They rarely fought over their respective families anymore. They seemed to have maintained a delicate balance. And I was the weight that could be sacrificed. “Don’t I deserve my own room? Mom and Dad, we have the means. Why are you specifically making me uncomfortable?” I couldn’t suppress the hurt and anger anymore. After yelling, I was shaking all over, tears streaming down my face uncontrollably. Facing my breakdown and rage, my parents remained strangely calm. My dad shook his head, sighing. “You found out?” My mom took a tissue to wipe my tears, chiding me gently: “You’ll only be home for a few days when you’re in college. Why waste an entire room? Listen to me, the three-bedroom unit had poor lighting. No sunlight is bad for your health.” “The large two-bedroom unit is south-facing and has a great layout. And let’s be honest, your Grandma is old. Once she’s gone, won’t that room be all yours?” My mom kept rambling, but I only caught one sentence. “Why waste an entire room.” “So, in your hearts, you see me as a daughter who will eventually marry out. I’m an outsider. I don’t deserve a room, or reserving a room for me is a waste. If I were a boy, would you have given him an independent room?” The room was deadly silent. It was only now that I truly understood Dahlia’s words. Ha, a policy-only child. How ironic. My proud status as an only child was merely a necessity forced on my parents. My parents, both working in the public sector, couldn't risk their careers to have a second child, a son. They only had me, their daughter, but in their hearts, they still cherished an “invisible son.”
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