While negotiating the terms of a project, a client pressured me into downing a large glass of liquor. While I was washing my face in the restroom, I saw my younger sister’s latest Instagram post.

[Low salary? What of it? My parents will always support me!]

Above the caption was a photo of a property deed with her name on it, along with a message from our parents.

[Mom and Dad will always be your safety net!]

It was in a newly developed residential complex.

It was also the very neighborhood I had been desperately saving up for a downpayment to buy a home in.

At that moment, a torrent of complex emotions washed over me.

I splashed my face with water. After clearing my head, I sent a message to my manager, Mr. Jenkins.

[I’m willing to take on that overseas project you mentioned.]

After being pressured into drinking until I was tipsy, I checked my phone and saw an Instagram post from my younger sister, Daphne.

The private room was clouded with cigarette smoke. My client, Mr. Wallace, a bald man, slapped me hard between the shoulder blades.

“Lina, you can really hold your liquor. A girl like you is a definite friend for life. Next time, you bet I’m bringing this deal to you first.”

I swallowed hard against the bile rising in my throat and managed to stretch my lips into a stiff, professional smile.

“That’s so kind of you, Mr. Wallace. The pleasure’s all ours.”

The contract mattered to the company. It mattered to me, too.

The project manager position had been vacant for a while. Landing this deal would significantly boost my chances.

I had practically drunk myself half to death for a meager commission and a slim shot at a promotion.

Using the restroom as my excuse, I scrambled out of that stifling private room.

I splashed icy water on my face. The cold shock temporarily cut through the alcohol and nausea.

I looked up at the woman in the mirror. Her face was as pale as a ghost.

I was only in my mid-twenties, but the spark in my eyes was gone.

All that remained was the numbness and bone-deep exhaustion from life’s relentless torture.

Out of habit, I pulled out my phone and scrolled through Instagram. The latest post was from Daphne.

[Low salary? What of it? My parents will always support me!]

Above the caption was a nine-picture grid.

My finger trembled uncontrollably as I tapped on it.

The first photo showed a ready-to-move-in apartment at Tomson Pinnacle, a high-end development in the city center.

It was the very neighborhood I had been saving up for. For years, I had scrimped and saved, dreaming of the day I could finally afford the downpayment.

Next came a brand-new property deed, followed by a screenshot of a WhatsApp chat from the “Happy Family” group.

[Honey, as long as you love the place, that’s all that matters. Just settle in and don’t stress about a thing. Mom and Dad will always be your safety net!

[If you don’t have enough money, just tell Dad! I’ll send it to you!]

The words “safety net” instantly unleashed a fury I had kept locked away for more than twenty years.

Memories of being overlooked, being sacrificed, and being taken for granted came flooding back.

I remembered last week when my mom called me.

She said anxiously, “Lina, do you have any money right now? Can you send me three hundred dollars for an emergency? Your sister has her eye on a bag and absolutely has to have it.”

Last month, my dad sighed and had a “discussion” with me.

“We’re a little short on your younger brother’s tuition for next semester. Transfer some money over now, you’re his elder sister.”

Not to mention last year, Daphne had wanted to go on a graduation trip to Civitas. She had casually asked me for 5,000 dollars.

I had just paid six months’ worth of rent. With only fifteen dollars left on my card, I had politely turned her down.

She hung up rudely on the spot, and my mom immediately called to scold me.

“Your sister rarely asks you for anything. Can’t you just help her out? We’re family. How could you be so heartless?”

What about me? I also wanted a property in Tomson Pinnacle.

Earlier, I had cautiously brought up wanting to borrow some money for a downpayment. Guess what my mum said?

“What does a girl need to buy a house for? When you get married, your husband will take care of that.

“The family’s money is being saved for your younger brother’s marriage. How could we have any left for you?”

It turned out that my family was never short of money. They just did not want to spend it on me.

It turned out that their so-called “safety net” was built on the endless draining of my resources.

I thought that if I just worked hard enough, pushed myself enough, I could eventually afford a place of my own in this cold, indifferent city.

I wanted a home where I could be myself without any pretenses. I wanted somewhere I would not have to walk on eggshells around other people.

Reality struck me square in the face.

Some people were simply born with a safety net.

They could earn a low salary or even fail to make money because their parents would always have their backs.

In my case, no matter how hard I tried, I could not even get a fair start.

I took a deep breath, picked up my phone, and sent a message.

[Mr. Jenkins, I’m willing to take on that overseas project you mentioned.]

...

By the time I returned home, it was already the early hours of the morning.

To my surprise, the living room lights were still on. My parents were sitting rigidly on the couch. They even had dark expressions on their faces.

Daphne was nestled close to our mother. Her eyes were red and puffy, as if she had just been crying.

My father was the first to speak.

He said harshly, “Oh, so you finally decided to come home?”

I wearily slipped off my high heels. My ankles were painfully swollen.

Even so, I patiently explained, “I had a work function. The client was a nightmare. I couldn’t get out of it.”

“A work function? All you ever do is go out and party. What kind of behavior is that for a young woman?”

My mother patted Daphne’s back soothingly. When she turned to me, her demeanor shifted. She looked at me hostilely.

“Look at Daffie. The minute she has free time, she’s here with us. But you? Coming home in the dead of night. Disturbing our rest is one thing, but tomorrow is Daffie’s birthday party. How do you expect us to prepare properly with you carrying on like this?”

I stood there, stunned. The alcohol had dulled my thoughts, but I could clearly feel the ache in my heart.

“I was out there working...” I tried to explain.

“Working? You call drinking with men ‘work’?”

My father slammed his hand on the table as he shot to his feet.

“Do you have any idea how upset Daffie is today? She posted something really important on Instagram, and you, her own sister, couldn’t even hit the ‘like’ button? Are you jealous of her?”

Daphne looked up at me. Her eyes glistened with tears.

“Sis, I know you’re busy. But I was honestly so happy about getting the apartment today. I just wanted to share that with my family. Do you... not approve of me buying a place of my own?”

I was struck by her sheer absurdity.

I murmured, “I’ve just been really swamped—”

My mother scoffed. “Too swamped to take two seconds to tap the ‘like’ button?

“You’ve always been like this. Ever since you were little, you couldn’t stand seeing your sister happy.”

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks.

Long-buried memories came flooding back.

In middle school, I came first in the entire grade. My parents completely missed my parent-teacher conference because Daphne had taken a minor tumble.

They did not attend my high school graduation ceremony. They had been busy accompanying Daphne on a shopping trip for a new dress.

Every birthday, I received nothing more than a simple cake. Meanwhile, Daphne’s birthdays were always lavish, over-the-top celebrations.

“I couldn’t stand to see her happy?” I repeated. My voice began to tremble.

“Then why did I pinch pennies to buy her the latest smartphone?

“Then why did I send her money the second she said she was short every single time?

“Then why did I hop on an overnight train the moment I heard she was sick to take care of her?”

The more I spoke, the more agitated I became. The grievances I had suppressed for so many years finally burst through the dam.

“Have you ever stopped to think why Daphne gets to be around you all the time?

“It’s because she doesn’t have to work her fingers to the bone just to survive. She’s got a house with her name on it, and that’s her safety net.

“And me? I’m grinding myself into the ground in this city, and I can’t even afford a broom closet!”

Hearing my words, my father nodded knowingly. His expression suggested he had expected this all along.

“There it is. There’s the truth. It’s finally out.” He raised his voice and said, “You’re just jealous we bought Daffie a house!

“You’re capable. You could make it on your own. Shouldn’t an older sister know how to share?”

I laughed, but tears streamed down my face uncontrollably.

“I’ve been sharing for over twenty years! I shared my childhood, I shared my youth, and now I’m supposed to give up the love and fairness I actually deserve?”

I looked at my parents.

“Do you want to know why I’m getting home so late tonight? A client forced me to down an entire bottle of hard liquor. I was in the washroom puking my guts out.

“And while I was out there breaking my back, I saw my own sister showing off the apartment you bought her. It’s the one I’ve been working really hard to afford but will never, ever have!

Daphne stood up and said in a shrill voice, “Lina, how can you talk to Mom and Dad like that? They’ve sacrificed so much to raise us—”

I could not stand her acting innocently while reaping all the benefits, so I cut her off mid-sentence.

“Sacrificed? Yeah, they sacrificed so hard they gave you every ounce of love and every penny they had, while I had to go fend for myself!”

My mother trembled with rage.

“Lina, you disappoint us so much! We wasted our efforts in raising you!”

I wiped the tears from my face and felt a strange sense of calm wash over me.

“Yeah, you wasted them. Starting today, just pretend you never had me as a daughter.”

I turned and walked toward my room to pack my things.

My parents and Daphne stood there frozen. They had not expected me to be so resolute.

“Lina, please don’t do this.”

Daphne timidly reached out to stop me.

I shook off her hand coldly.

“Tomorrow’s your birthday party. I’ll sit this one out. I don’t want to ruin the mood.”

My father stood motionless. He was too angry to say anything. His lips trembled.

My mother began to cry, but her sobbing sounded insincere to me.

...

I worked day and night preparing the documents for my departure abroad in my friend’s cramped guest room.

Mr. Jenkins affirmed my decision but also emphasized the hardship and long-term nature of the overseas assignment.

The project was located in a sparsely populated area of Northern Civitas, with a duration of at least two years.

That suited me perfectly. Distance was exactly what I needed most at that moment.

The company was rather surprised by my decision. Some speculated that I was motivated by the generous overseas allowance and the promotion that would follow upon my return.

Only I knew the truth. I was fleeing a place called “home,” a place that had never given me the warmth it should have.

My phone kept getting calls.

My mother’s initial calls came charged with anger.

“Lina, are you done with this little tantrum? Get home and apologize to your sister. Now.

“How could you skip Daphne’s birthday party? All the relatives are asking where you are.”

I listened calmly. When she finished, I replied briefly, “I’m swamped with work. I don’t have time. Also, from now on, don’t bother telling me about anything involving Daphne.”

I hung up.

My father also tried reaching out. His tone was softer, but he was also calling for the same reason.

“Lina, I know you’re hurt. But come on, families fight. Be sensible. You shouldn’t hold grudges forever.

“Daphne is younger. Of course, we’re going to look out for her a little more. You’re the mature one. Just let it go.”

I corrected him.

“What I can’t let go of is the constant unfairness. I’m not just throwing a simple tantrum. I mean this.

“From now on, I will be in charge of my own money and my own life. What happens in this family is no longer my problem.”

With that, I hung up directly and set their numbers to Do Not Disturb.

Daphne’s messages came flooding in and bombarded my phone.

“Lina, do you have to tear this family apart?

“Mom and Dad are getting old. Can’t you cut them some slack?

“Do you think you’re so special just because you decided to leave? Well, this family doesn’t even need you.”

I felt indifferent when I read those messages. If anything, I almost found them amusing.

Those words used to cut deep. But not anymore. They just sound empty.

I did not reply to any of her messages. I simply left the “Happy Family” WhatsApp group.

In that space, I had always been an outsider. They were the ones in their happy little bubble.

The moment I exited the group, an unprecedented sense of relief washed over me. It felt as though I had finally shed a heavy yoke I had been carrying for years.

Just as I had anticipated, the moment I completely cut off their financial support, everyone in my family started to panic.