2
After confirming Lily was fine, Dad blamed
himself.
“It’s all my fault, making my baby suffer on
her birthday! Lily, what compensation do you
want? Dad will give you double, okay?”
Lily looked around.
Her BMW keys hung on the wall.
Designer clothes with tags still attached lay
scattered on the floor.
Jewelry overflowed from the drawers and was
haphazardly strewn on the table.
Her two–meter–tall shoe cabinet was bursting
with new shoes.
Envy and jealousy gnawed at my heart like a
swarm of ants.
If I were her, I’d die without regrets.
Lily pondered for a moment, then hugged
Dad’s arm, swaying and acting cute.
“No, no, all my wishes came true.”
“Dad, you and Mom spoil me so much, aren’t
you afraid people will say you’re biased? Let
my sister finish, I want to hear her wish!”
Lily lifted her chin at me, subtly rolling her
eyes.
The disdain on her face quickly turned into a
sweet and charming smile the moment Dad
Dad was stunned for a moment, then
affectionately stroked her head.
“Lily’s grown up, she’s considerate now.”
“Don’t worry about Carolyn, we gave her
plenty of chances, she just doesn’t know how
to behave.”
Mom snorted:
“Lily, don’t listen to your sister’s nonsense!
Parents don’t favor one child without reason,
she should reflect on why she’s so unlikable!”
Then, she pointed at me, commanding:
“What are you standing there for? Go clean
up the shards! Are you hoping Lily cuts her
foot? Look at your smug face!”
Humiliation washed over me.
I crouched down, the broken porcelain
digging into my palm, blood seeping through
my fingers.
I remembered when I was three, our family
had a rare dinner together.
I sat at the corner of the table, holding a bowl
of hot porridge, struggling with the spoon.
Lily sat on Dad’s lap, playing with his tie while
Mom fed her.
After Lily finished, I carefully scooped up
some porridge, hopped off my high chair, and
offered the spoon to Mom, looking at her with
eager anticipation.
She already disliked my slow eating; seeing I
hadn’t eaten much, she snatched the bowl
and roughly poured the porridge into my
mouth.
The burning pain made me spit out the
porridge, my hands flailing uncontrollably.
I broke a bowl and flung the spoon at Lily.
Mom and Dad decided it was my fault.
They punished me by making me clean up the
mess.
Little me, curled up on the floor.
I heard Mom cursing me for bullying Lily, Dad
complaining about the dozens of broken
bowls.
I cried hopelessly.
I didn’t understand why Mom, who was gentle
with Lily, was so impatient with me.
Later, Mrs. Davis noticed the sores in my
mouth and the infected wounds on my hands.
Mom finally realized the porridge Lily and I
drank were different temperatures.
She didn’t apologize.
She pretended to be concerned, buying burn
ointment, but left it for me to apply myself.
From Mrs. Davis, I heard the word
“favoritism.”
I secretly asked Dad what favoritism meant.
His emotionless glare is forever etched in my
memory.
When Mom found out, she scolded me for
being naughty and making things up.
I didn’t know back then that this strange
reaction was anger stemming from guilt.
Now, no one cares how much the teacup
costs, no one cares if the tea was actually
hot.
They only care about Lily.
The outcome seemed predetermined from the
moment we were born.
