It was a two-bedroom apartment. I remember when I first came here, Margaret looked at me uneasily.
“Emily, your dad and I don’t have much. The apartment’s small, there’s no extra room. But I don’t want you to feel wronged. How about this—you take our bedroom, and your dad and I will sleep in the living room. No matter how hard it is, we want you to live well.”
But she didn’t move an inch until I said,
“It’s okay. I’ll sleep on the couch. I’ll manage.”
Only then did she smile.
“Our Emily is so considerate.”
Yes. I was always the considerate one.
Because in this world, I never had the choice not to be.
Mom never sold her blood. Dad never went to the hospital. One night passed, and it was as if nothing had happened.
When I stepped into the living room, the admission letter was gone from the table.
Margaret greeted me with a forced smile.
“Emily, I know you’re upset. But yesterday, you were really too thoughtless. Your dad and your brother were furious, and I spent the whole night calming them down.”
“I know you’re always the obedient one. This time, take it as Mom’s request—just apologize to them, and let’s put this behind us, okay?”
“What your brother said were just words of anger. He’s admired you since he was little. He’s only scared that once you leave for school, you won’t come back. He’ll miss you. He does care about you.”
I stared into her sharp, calculating eyes, my voice cold.
“Where’s my admission letter?”
She feigned confusion, her lips parting slightly.
“Huh? Emily, what are you talking about?”
I repeated,
“My admission letter. Where is it?”
Her tears fell instantly.
“Emily, you still won’t let this family go, will you? Do you really want to see me sell blood, your dad die, and your brother drop out of school? You’re not that cold-hearted.”
Her lips trembled, opening and closing without sound.
A harsh cough echoed from the room.
Margaret’s body went limp. She looked at me with pleading eyes.
“Take it as a favor to me. I’ll kneel if I have to, alright?”
She began sliding to her knees.
I didn’t move. And in that moment, Ryan rushed out.
“Mom, don’t kneel to her. Don’t beg her.”
He held Margaret with one hand and slapped me with the other.
“You’d let Mom kneel to you? Aren’t you afraid of cursing yourself to an early grave? Shameless! If it weren’t for Mom, I would’ve beaten you to death yesterday.”
Margaret carefully pulled Ryan back.