On the first day of every month, my mom will give me my allowance based on the number of times I had checked in with her last month.

"You'll receive 20 dollars for greeting your parents once in the morning and once in the evening. But last month, you only hit ten days' worth of quota, so you can only receive 200 dollars. This also means your 300-dollar punctuality fee will be deducted as well.

"After adding on 150 dollars for your basic necessities, you shall receive only 350 dollars for this month's allowance. Remember to write a reflection report on your lack of punctuality later. I'll only transfer you the money if your report is acceptable."

I become so overwhelmed by anxiety that my voice starts trembling.

"I was busy with my finals last month, Mom! I had to line up outside the library at 5:00 am every day just so I could secure myself a seat! That's why I couldn't call you in time!"

In a choked-up tone, I plead to my mom, "I need 600 dollars for the train ticket all the way home during the holidays! 350 dollars really isn't enough for me! Mom, can you please—"

But my mom cuts me off firmly, "The allowance system is something that I've specifically designed for you so that I can help you get rid of the bad habit of wanting to receive everything without putting in hard work! Why can't you just understand that I'm doing this for your own good?"

After that, she ends the call mercilessly.

Just as I'm filled with despair and helplessness, a blond appears before my eyes. He's willing to buy my train ticket for me, but in return, I need to leave with him.

I hung my head in shame. "But I don't have the money to pay you back."

The blond guy and his friends froze for a moment, staring at me like I was stupid. "You don't have to pay. Just have dinner with us, and I'll give you the money for your ticket right after."

It only took one meal to earn enough to return home. The thought made my heart leap. I wanted to go back so badly.

Last week, Grandma had gone out of her way to call me from the corner store in the village.

She said she had already restuffed my quilt with the softest cotton and had dried a whole batch of my favorite raisins in the yard. She wanted me to take them back to school to share with my classmates and teachers and asked them to take care of me.

Grandma had raised me on her own. She was 78 years old this year and had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer last year. Every visit felt like time slipping through my fingers. Even thousands of miles away, she was my home. I had to get back to her.

I clenched the 350 dollars in my pocket, took a deep breath, and nodded at the blond guy.

They led me into a shabby apartment. Blondie pointed to six beers lined up on the table and slapped 600 dollars in cash next to them. "Chug one bottle, and you get a hundred dollars. Finish all six, and the ticket's yours."

I looked at the money, but my thoughts were with my grandmother in the yard, gently touching my cheek with her aged hand as she murmured with worry, "Nina, you've lost weight. Are you eating enough at school? I'll make you something good."

Tears threatened to fall again, but I wiped them away and steeled myself. Mom had always said that kids from the countryside had to fight twice as hard for everything they wanted. If finishing these six beers meant I could see my grandmother again, it was worth it.

I grabbed a bottle, twisted off the cap, and gulped it down. I had never drunk alcohol before, and I immediately started coughing violently.

Blondie and his friends whistled at me, leering and muttering dirty words under their breath.

Fear welled up inside me. I rushed into the bathroom, slammed the door, and immediately dialed my mom.

The call finally connected. "Mom, help me—" I began.

Before I could get a word out, she cut me off angrily, "Nina Graham, I can't believe this! You're always trying to scheme your way around things. Deep down, you just want something without earning it, and I will not let this slide!"

She hung up before I could respond. I called back frantically, but no one answered.

The bathroom door crashed open. Blondie's face was twisted in rage as he seized me and hauled me out.

He was so strong that I couldn't break free. My whole body trembled with fear, and it was too late to run. I struggled and screamed, but no one paid any attention to my pleas.

They treated me like prey, forcing one bottle of alcohol after another into my mouth.

My consciousness began to blur, and I sank into endless darkness, trapped in a terrifying dream. In the dream, I became a bloodied lamb, surrounded by people with no escape, left only to be slaughtered.

When I came to again, I was on the train home. I blinked in confusion, but excitement bubbled up inside me. I was finally on my way home. Soon, I would see Grandma.

Strangely, when the conductor came to check tickets, she scanned every passenger carefully, but when she passed me, it was as if I weren't there at all, and she walked right by.

Once I got off the train, I ran as fast as I could, wishing I could fly straight into Grandma's arms. By the time I reached the village entrance, I saw her from a distance.

She stood alone by the old millstone, leaning on her cane, staring unblinkingly in the direction I always returned from.

A neighbor passing by couldn't help but say, "Mrs. Graham Senior, it's so cold outside. You should head back inside."

Grandma shook her head stubbornly. A hopeful smile spread across her face as she murmured over and over, "Just a little longer…"

I ran full speed, calling out, "Grandma! I'm home!"

I reached out to hug her, but my arms passed through her like she wasn't there.

I froze in place.

That was when I realized I was dead. I had died in that rental apartment, trying to earn the money to get home, during my very first winter break after getting into college.

Grandma waited until the sun had completely set before the light in her eyes finally dimmed. Weighed down by disappointment, she slowly made her way back home.

I followed her home. A shiny, new car sat at the gate. My parents' faces shone with joy as they carried pile after pile of Christmas gifts inside.

I couldn't believe my eyes. When had our family ever been able to own such a car?

Mom had always told me this year would be hard, to save every bit of money at school, and not to ask her for extras.

My little brother, Hugo Graham, leapt out of the car and ran to Grandma. "Grandma, where's Nina? Why isn't she home yet? I was waiting for her to tell me a story."

Grandma ruffled Hugo's hair. "The tickets were probably hard to get. Maybe she has to take the train tomorrow."

Mom overheard her and slammed her suitcase to the ground in fury. She yelled, "That brat's sulking at me! Just because I reduced her allowance a little, she refuses to come home!

"If she never returns, fine—I'll pretend I never had a daughter! She spends our hard-earned money every day and can't even remember to check in. Ungrateful little witch!"

I stood in front of Mom, waving my hands desperately. "Mom, no, that's not true! I wasn't sulking, and I didn't refuse to come home. I came back on time. You just can't see me! I'm not ungrateful. I've worked so hard. I got first in my major this semester!"

No matter how loudly I screamed or how desperately I waved, they couldn't hear me, and they couldn't see me.

Grandma came back into the room. I leaned my head gently against her back, just like I had as a child. The familiar scent of her soap and lotion filled me with comfort. I wished this moment could stretch on forever.

She put on her reading glasses and carefully lifted an old box from under the bed. She opened it slowly, revealing three parcels swaddled in faded floral cloth.

The first parcel contained a bankbook. She smiled softly and said, "This 50 thousand dollars is everything I've saved my whole life. I'm leaving it for Nina. When she marries, it'll be her wedding gift. With money in her hands, she can hold her head high and never be wronged in her new home."

Even though she was terminally ill and couldn't even bring herself to buy medicine, she was leaving everything to me. My eyes filled with tears. I realized that even ghosts could cry.

The second bundle contained two golden bangles, polished to a shine even though I had never seen her wear them.

Grandma fell into a reverie. "These were my treasures when I got married. My mother gave them to me. They're the most valuable things I've ever owned, and I've never dared to wear them.

"How I wish I could live just a little longer, even two more years, so I could put them on Nina myself when she gets married."

I sobbed uncontrollably. "Grandma, I'm sorry. I can't do it!"

She saved the last bundle for last. Inside lay a neatly folded piece of paper—the deed to our old house.

She said with a hint of guilt, "Your little brother is just five years old, and your parents already bought him a house in the city. I can't afford a big city home, but this old place will shelter you from the wind and rain.

"If you ever feel wronged or hurt, you can come back here. And if you miss me, go to the grave at the east end of the village and talk to me—I'll hear you."

I couldn't hold back any longer. I wanted to throw myself into her arms and cry, "I'm already dead! Use this money to take care of yourself! Stop worrying about me! Forget me and live well!"

But no matter how desperately I cried, she couldn't hear me.

I could only watch as she hid the wooden box under the bed, hoping I would come back.

…

That evening, Mom had set a table full of food. Grandma barely touched it, and she repeatedly gazed at the door, filled with both hope and concern.

Dad hesitated and glanced at Grandma. "Maybe we should just call Nina."

Mom slammed her fork onto the table, and her expression darkened instantly. "Call her? No! You're all just spoiling her. I'm her mother. Do you really think I can't handle my own child?

"No one is calling her today. She needs time to reflect on what she's done. We can't keep indulging her bad habits."

The shock made the frail Grandma cough violently. Dad quickly helped her steady herself.

Mom's tone softened slightly as she turned to Grandma, though her stance remained firm. "Mom, I know this sounds harsh, but it has to be said. Nina turned out this way because you've always spoiled her. The allowance system I set up is for her own good.

"Before she enters the workforce, she needs to learn how the world works. Only effort brings reward. Nothing comes without hard work. If you keep protecting her, it's not love. It's hurting her. When she steps into society, she'll suffer for it."

Grandma was a soft-spoken woman from the countryside. She had never raised her voice in her life, much less argued with her son and daughter-in-law.

Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come. In the end, she simply sat there with reddened eyes, looking like a helpless child.