Two months after I died, it finally occurred to my parents that they'd forgotten to bring me back from their trip.

My father scowled in frustration. "She was supposed to walk back herself. Does she really need to make such a big deal out of it?"

My brother, ever smug, opened our chat and sent an emoji, along with a message.

[You'd better die out there. That way, Scarlett and I will split Grandma's inheritance.]

He received no reply.

With a frosty expression, my mother said, "Tell her if she shows up for her grandmother's birthday on time, I'll let the whole pushing-Scarlett-into-the-water thing go."

They never believed I hadn't made it out of those woods. After digging six feet into the ground, they finally found my bones deep in the forest.

Unable to reach me and under pressure from my grandmother, my family finally found themselves reluctantly standing in front of a run-down rental in the city.

Flynn Patterson pinched his nose. "How can that good-for-nothing live in a place like this? Mom, Dad, I don't want to go in!"

"Alright, alright. You two can head back. Your dad and I will take it from here," my mother replied.

Scarlett Patterson clung to my mother's arm, her face a mask of concern. "Seriously, can't Whitney grow up for once? She didn't answer our calls or texts, and now you two had to come all the way here."

"I'll make her pay for this!" My mother's eyes flashed with anger as she pulled my father inside.

They trudged up four flights of stairs, panting as they finally stopped in front of apartment 401.

When my father knocked, a burly man with no shirt answered the door. "Who are you looking for?"

Seeing him instantly ignited my father's temper. "What's your relationship with my daughter, and why are you living here?"

My mother stormed past him, fuming as she shouted, "Whitney! Get out here! Have you really had the nerve to live with someone without telling us?"

Just then, a heavily pregnant woman stepped into view.

"Did you come to the wrong place? We've been living here for two months now," she said.

My mother's impatience was evident. "This is the address my daughter, Whitney, gave us. How could we be wrong?"

The middle-aged man, frustrated by my mother's refusal to listen, shoved her out of the way. "Get lost! You don't even know where your own daughter lives, and you dare call yourselves parents!"

Suddenly, the pregnant woman chimed in, "Is Whitney the previous tenant? The landlord said she owed a month's rent and couldn't be reached, so we took the place."

Hearing this, my mother's brows shot up in anger. "She moved out without a word? Well, this was a pointless trip. What an ungrateful daughter!"

Just as they were about to leave in a huff, the landlord returned.

Upon learning that they were my parents, he immediately began demanding rent. "You need to pay her back rent now. And get her stuff out of here, so it doesn't take up my space!"

My parents, skeptical, followed the landlord to the storage room where my things were kept.

Dust covered everything, having been untouched for two months.

My father recognized a few of my favorite clothes. "Those are definitely hers."

My mother frowned, coldly stating, "Is Whitney doing this on purpose? Leaving all this junk behind for us to clean up after her?"

The landlord couldn't take it anymore and said, "It's not junk; these are her things! There are albums and important documents in there. She's a nice girl; I kept everything for her."

My mother dismissed him with a wave of her hand.

The storage room reeked of mildew.

Holding her nose, she stepped back outside and called my phone.

After several unanswered calls, she left a message.

"Whitney, are you done with this nonsense? Your dad and I are at your rental right now. Hurry up and come back!"

Her usual tone dripped with disdain, her disgust unfiltered.

She wasn't surprised that I hadn't replied to Flynn's messages.

After all, my little brother and I had become enemies thanks to Scarlett, my elder sister's, instigation.

But ignoring a message from her own mother? That was unprecedented.

Frustrated, she turned to my father and said flatly, "Let's just forget about her and go home. I can't stand being here a second longer!"

The landlord, overhearing, glared at her. "Hey, that's rude. Anyway, are you taking her stuff or not? If not, I'll just throw it out," he said, clearly fed up.

Realizing he wouldn't get the rent from my parents, the landlord decided to let it go.

Without looking back, my mother walked away.

Enraged, the landlord barked, "Don't you have any compassion? Your daughter hasn't been in touch for two months. Aren't you worried something might have happened to her?"

My mother sneered. "That girl has a strong spirit. If anything happened, I'd be shocked!"

When they got home, my mother called my grandmother.

"Mom, what's so special about that ungrateful girl? You can leave everything to Scarlett and Flynn; why bother with Whitney?"

My spirit hovered nearby, unable to suppress a bitter laugh.

I was her only real daughter. Why did she hate me so much?

My grandmother was so furious she could hardly catch her breath. "How did I end up with such a heartless child like you? I hadn't heard from her in the two months I was abroad. I'd been worried sick while I was abroad, and now I can't even reach her since I came back. You must've bullied her! She's living with you, isn't she? Get her on the phone right now!"

My mother hesitated, shooting a glance at my father.

Two months ago, Flynn had an impulsive idea to go camping in the restricted Wild Valley. I knew it was risky, but I was eager to bond with my family and had even taken time off work. I never expected Scarlett would fall into the water. When she was pulled out, she immediately accused me of pushing her.

My mother slapped me several times in a fit of rage, completely ignoring my attempts to explain, left me in the wild. Little did they know, I never made it out of those woods.

After two months of silence, they couldn't contact me now, yet my mother still managed to calmly complain to my grandmother.

"It's her fault for being so disobedient. She's constantly jealous and refuses to get along with her siblings. And now, who knows where she's run off to?"

When did my mother go from being indifferent to treating me like a heartless demon?

When I lived with my grandmother, she would always insist on their visits before my parents would even think of coming back to see me.

But without Scarlett and Flynn around, they would be focused on me, albeit reluctantly. Those were moments I cherished.

Later, when they decided to take me away from my grandmother to live with them, I was hopeful that they were finally giving me a loving home. But once I arrived, I quickly realized I was just a marginalized orphan.

Even though my parents' home wasn't as grand as my grandmother's villa, Scarlett had a room full of Barbie dolls and beautiful princess dresses. Because Scarlett didn't like to see me wearing the designer clothes my grandmother bought for me, my parents shoved them into a small, shabby box in the corner, leaving me to wear the clothes Scarlett didn't want.

Flynn had a full set of top-of-the-line soccer gear and the latest gadgets, while I simply wanted a computer. My parents promised to get me one, but it never materialized.

I had lived my life constantly trying to please them, yearning for even a sliver of their attention.

Now, I no longer had to force myself to seek out that pitiful warmth.

Through the phone, my grandmother said that she would donate her entire fortune to charity if she didn't see me before hanging up in a fit of anger.

My mother's expression darkened upon hearing that.

My father flicked the ash from his cigarette as he remarked, "All she does is throw tantrums. We should have never brought her to live with us."

My mother sat down on the couch, her face grim. "We need to start keeping a closer eye on her. If we keep letting her have her way, who knows what kind of trouble she'll cause next?"

With that, my father personally called me. It was rare for him to take the initiative like this.

After searching for a while, he finally found my number. But when he dialed it, the line rang without response; there was only a mechanical voice saying that the phone was turned off.

His face darkened as he cursed under his breath, "That ungrateful girl is deliberately hiding from us. Does she think our family can't live without her? She should take a good look at herself! I want to see how long she can keep this up!"

Just then, Flynn came downstairs.

Hearing our parents' angry remarks, he chimed in, "Mom, Dad, you shouldn't worry too much. Whitney cares the most about Grandma. She'll definitely come back for her birthday party."

With those words, my parents finally began to relax a little.

Flynn, as usual, picked up the remote and turned on the TV, eager to catch the game. But he inadvertently switched to the local news channel.

The headline was striking.

[A body was discovered by a tourist in Wild Valley. Effective immediately, the area will be completely closed off to visitors.]

The news anchor continued to urge the public to steer clear of the hazardous area, emphasizing the need to avoid any potential accidents.

Flynn sat up straight, disbelief etched on his face. "They actually closed off Wild Valley?"

My mother's brow furrowed as a thought crossed her mind.

Then Flynn sprang up from the couch, excitement bubbling over as he slapped his thigh. "This is fantastic! That camping trip we took to Wild Valley is now a legendary last hurrah! I can't wait to tell my classmates! They'll be so jealous, especially since they never got a chance to go before it was shut down."

Slowly, my mother's tense expression began to relax.

"Alright, enough of this childish excitement. Have you two picked out a birthday gift for your grandmother's party?"

My father, who had initially worn a dark scowl, finally seemed to ease up. "This time, you kids had better come up with some charming words to flatter her."

Flynn rolled his eyes. "Whitney always helps me pick the best gifts for grandma anyway. Grandma will love it. You guys don't need to worry."

With that, he turned his attention back to the game on TV.

When my name was mentioned, my mother's expression shifted back to one of disdain, and she turned to retreat into her room.

After sitting on the bed for a moment, she picked up her phone, seemingly indifferent, and opened our chat history.

There were no new texts.

Our last conversation felt like a distant memory now, and those few brief exchanges seemed strangely foreign.

An unnameable emotion washed over her, and she pressed down on the voice message button, her voice laced with frustration as she spoke for several tense seconds.

"Whitney, get back home by tomorrow, and I can arrange for you to move back in with us. If you keep hiding, I swear I'll sever our ties!"

With that, she tossed her phone aside and lay back down, drifting off to sleep.

I sat there, wanting to cry but finding myself unable to produce a single tear.

Six months ago, I graduated, but my parents missed the ceremony they had promised to attend because Scarlett had scraped her knee.

Afterward, when I quietly voiced my disappointment, they used my age as an excuse to kick me out of the house.

Fearing my grandmother would find out and scold my mother, I kept quiet about it.

I didn't even dare to use my grandmother's connections to help me find a job.

My mother knew that I had spent my whole life longing for her and my father's approval.

She was my Achilles' heel.

As long as she threatened to cut ties, I would rush back to apologize, eager to make things right.

But now, she no longer held that power over me because I had been dead for two months.

When my mother woke up, evening had already fallen.

Checking her phone, she found only a message from her close friend.

It was from Aunt Lillian.

[Hey, Ginny. I remember you all just went to Wild Valley recently. Hope everything's alright.

[How's Whitney? I tried calling her, but she's not answering.]

Seeing Aunt Lillian's message made me feel moved.

Over the years, besides my grandmother, Aunt Lillian had been one of the few people who cared about me.

I usually only shared good news with my grandmother, and during tough times, it was only Aunt Lillian who would pat my shoulder and reassure me, "Your mother just needs some time to think. She loves you."

I had always believed that.

Until I tried calling her before I died, and she repeatedly hung up on me.

That was when I realized what a 'white lie' was.

Maybe my unwillingness to let go had kept me lingering near my mother even after death.

I didn't want that.

I didn't want to witness their happy family life in the afterlife.

My mother pinched the bridge of her nose, typing a reply.

[Who knows where she's gone? My mom's birthday party is coming in a few days, and you have to come with me.]

Aunt Lillian had a close relationship with our family.

She immediately agreed, adding that she had brought me a hand-stitched silk scarf by Sophia Dallas, which I had long wanted.

My mother paused mid-text.

She realized that the scarf I had asked Aunt Lillian to reserve was meant for her.

Earlier this year, I had subtly asked what she wanted for Mother's Day, and she casually showed me a video of it when she was scrolling on social media.

I had made a mental note of it right then.