After returning to our room that night, I felt my lower abdomen cramping slightly. A sliver of panic coursed through me as I rushed toward the bathroom.

As I thought, my period had arrived.

Why had it come so early this time? Due to my years of malnutrition, my periods had always been rather irregular, and I would always be in so much pain that I couldn't even get out of bed. Hence, those few days I was on my period were always like hell for me.

The cramps grew increasingly worse, and it wasn't long before the pain spread to my stomach.

I hurried toward my bed and reached under the pillow for the box of painkillers I had hidden under it.

It was empty.

The only reason I had this box of painkillers was because, back before I left for college, our neighbor suggested to Mom that she should prepare some emergency medicine for me.

Thus, Mom brought me to a pharmacy and had the pharmacist pick out a random assortment of medicine for common ailments, of which included this box of painkillers.

Just as despair welled in me, I suddenly recalled how Wendy's mother had been so concerned about Wendy.

I sent Mom a message, "Mom, my period is here, and it hurts so bad. I've already finished my painkillers, but I don't have enough money to buy more. Could you lend me some?"

Even though I was in agony, I couldn't help holding a tiny seed of hope.

It wasn't long before Mom replied to my message, "Sweetheart, are you in a lot of pain? I'm so sorry to hear that. I'm sure this is because you've been disobedient and haven't been eating properly. Otherwise, why would you be having cramps?"

I had no idea how to refute her words. Every day, I was only able to earn roughly ten dollars or so by checking in with her. However, after deducting ten dollars for my monthly phone bill and the other living expenses, I only had enough left to eat oatmeal or dinner rolls each day.

At that moment, Mom called me. When I accepted the call, her gentle voice flowed over the line, "Sweetheart, I'm very mad that you refused to listen to me. I know you're feeling quite anxious right now.

She paused, then said, "How about this? Send me a written pledge with 999 lines saying that you'll always listen to me. If you do that, I'll help you."

Despite the despair that welled in me, I had no choice but to grit my teeth and start writing.

Sweat beaded my forehead from the severe cramping, and my head pounded like a drum. My stomach was roiling like a stormy sea, and even the light from my phone screen made me want to vomit.

Black spots began dancing across my vision, but Mom was still waiting on the other end of the line.

100 times.

200.

Finally, 999 times.

By that point, I was suffering so much that neither lying down nor sitting could ease my discomfort. I thought I was about to die. I prayed desperately that I could finally buy some painkillers to get through this hell.

At last, Mom said it was enough and transferred some money to me, the notification from my phone pinging shrilly.

I hastily checked the transaction.

50 cents.

It felt as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. For a moment, I couldn't tell if my body or my heart hurt more.

Mom's gentle voice reached my ears. "After some thought, I've decided that it's enough if you just buy one tablet from your roommate. If you buy a whole box, you won't be able to finish it in one go, and that would be wasteful. I don't want you to develop such a bad habit."

I couldn't stop myself from thinking maliciously about her as I snarked in my mind, "I bet you're doing this just so you can think up more ways to make things difficult for me the next time I'm on my period, isn't it?"

In the end, Wendy noticed me tossing and turning, seemingly in great discomfort, and asked if I was alright. Upon hearing my answer, she hurriedly grabbed a painkiller and poured a glass of water for me.

I hadn't hung up yet, so Mom heard everything. She thanked Wendy through the phone before bidding me good night.

Before the call ended, I thought I heard Mom muttering, "How troublesome."

I shut my eyes, feeling numb inside, yet tears still soaked the hair at my temples.

…

I finally realized that Mom probably didn't truly love me.

She was always telling me, "I love it when you share your day with me. That way, not only can you earn your allowance, but I get to feel your love for me too."

Hence, I was constantly racking my brain for things to report to her, not just to earn my allowance, but also so she could be happy.

However, my severe menstrual cramps had drained me both physically and mentally for the past few days.

I spent the next few days in pain, and my energy levels were at an all-time low. Since I hardly checked in with Mom, I only managed to earn a few dollars each day.

Nonetheless, Mom didn't seem to care or wonder whether a few dollars were even enough for a student's daily expenses.

I suddenly found it all so pointless.

After that realization, I began checking in less and less each day. I would survive even with just a dinner roll a day anyway. Whenever I got too hungry, I would drink some water. A dollar could buy me a big bottle that could then last me a week.

I started looking for odd jobs around the campus to do, asking for food or water in exchange. Surprisingly, I even managed to gain some weight, and my heart felt inexplicably lighter.

However, Mom grew progressively more anxious as the number of times I checked in dipped lower and lower. She went from soothing me to tearfully complaining, and finally, to threatening me, "Charlotte Sander, if you don't listen to me, karma will come for you!"

Still, I ignored her.

One afternoon, while eating a sandwich a classmate had given me, I reached into my drawer to feel for my bracelet out of habit.

It was gone!

I immediately broke out in cold sweat. That bracelet was the only memento my father had left for me.

Dad had loved me deeply. Back when he was still alive, we were quite poor. However, one day, I noticed one of the older villagers wearing a gorgeous pair of silver earrings. I told him that I wanted a pair too.

Mom scolded me for being inconsiderate, but Dad simply placated her with a smile. Then, seeing that I had burst into tears at Mom's scolding, he quickly tried to cheer me up.

Unexpectedly, the next day, Dad had a silver bracelet made for me. "My precious daughter deserves the best that this world has to offer. If I can't provide that for you, that only means that I'm a useless father."

It wasn't until later that I learned that Dad had spent all his savings on me for that bracelet, and he went three whole months without a single smoke because of it.

It was the only thing he had left for me that truly belonged to me. Every time I was upset, I would stroke the bracelet and instantly feel like he was right there beside me. The thought always brought me a great deal of comfort.

Yet, that bracelet was now missing.

I was so panicked that my entire body trembled. My mind was blank, and I didn't know what I should do.

A few seconds later, I realized that there was a surveillance camera at the back of the classroom. Thus, I went to the Student Affairs office in tears to ask for access to the surveillance footage.

At the professor's request, everyone was asked to return to the classroom. It was a Sunday, so everyone was less than happy to be called back.

I entered the classroom after the Mr. Adam Whitclaw, the Student Affairs staff member, still crying as panic rampaged through me.

Mr. Whitclaw began sternly, "Ms. Charlotte Sander here says that her silver bracelet is missing. Whichever one of you accidentally took it, please return it to her."

Upon hearing that, my classmates were even more annoyed and spoke up loudly.

"Who knows who took her lousy bracelet?"

"Just what century are we living in now? Who would steal a silver bracelet?"

"Mr. Whitclaw, Charlotte is so poor that she can't even procure more than a few dollars each day. Where did she even get the money to buy a silver bracelet? Could it be that she stole it?" one of them asked impatiently,

Mr. Whitclaw was visibly surprised at those words. He then turned to me to ask again, "Did you really lose a silver bracelet? What does it look like?"

An indescribable feeling rose in me, bringing a flush to my cheeks.

Nonetheless, I forced the tears back and began describing the bracelet, "It's a small silver bracelet meant for a child, with a pair of fish carved into it. It was a memento my father left for me, so if any of you have seen it, please give it back. I'm begging you!"

Silence descended upon the classroom, but still, no one stepped forward.

After a moment, the guy who suspected me of stealing the bracelet muttered, "Who knows if that's even true? Maybe she's in desperate need of money now, and that's why she made all this up. Why not just call her mother and ask about it?"

Mr. Whitclaw nodded before stepping outside to call my mom.

A short while later, he returned to fix me with a dark expression. "Ms. Sander, there's nothing shameful about being poor, but to be dishonest is another matter? I asked your mom about the bracelet, and she said that you don't have such a thing."

I stared at Mr. Whitclaw in disbelief.

I couldn't understand why Mom would lie, especially since she gave Dad the cold shoulder for quite a long while back then because of that bracelet. How could she say it didn't exist?

"I knew she was scamming us! It's quite scary what extreme poverty can drive someone to do!"

"Even her mom can't stand her actions."

"Can we leave now, Mr. Whitclaw?"

He nodded in agreement. As he got up to leave, I fell to my knees before him.

"I have proof!"

Nobody believed me, but none of them moved either.

Connecting my phone to the classroom's projector, I opened my photo album and displayed a photo on the screen.

In it, a young me was standing by Dad's coffin, and the silver bracelet was obvious for everyone to see. It was the only photo I had of me and my dad together.

Forcing my tears back, I gazed pleadingly at Mr. Whitclaw. "Please, just check the surveillance footage."

The way Mr. Whitclaw looked at me was noticeably more sympathetic than before, and the classmates who had wanted to leave earlier also spoke up.

"Poor Charlotte. Her father died when she was still so young."

"She couldn't have been more than four or five then and barely even understood the world. Since that bracelet is all she has left to remind her of her father, we should probably check the surveillance footage."

When Mr. Whitclaw agreed, the guy who kept suspecting me of lying earlier started to panic. He stepped forward and stopped him. "I took it."

The students who had agreed with his opinion just now instantly widened their eyes in shock.

Mr. Whitclaw's expression turned cold as he asked, "Where is it?"

The thief scratched his head. "I thought it was worthless, so I tossed it into the trash can outside Class 3."

Upon hearing that, I swiftly ran outside.

Thankfully, the trash cans were usually emptied around six in the evening, so the janitor hadn't yet cleaned it out. I immediately spotted my bracelet among the trash.

My classmates had followed me, and together, they managed to get the bracelet out. Another girl thoughtfully came over with a hose connected to a nearby tap. Then, after rinsing the bracelet clean, she handed it to me.

With that done, they all left.

I was immensely grateful to them, especially since no one seemed angry about the matter anymore.

"Why did you do it?" Mr. Whitclaw asked the culprit.

As it turned out, Mom had been the one to approach him and task him with stealing my bracelet. As a reward, she transferred him 300 dollars.

My vision swam when I heard that.

After Dad passed away, my tuition fees and living expenses were paid by both sets of grandparents, as Mom had never once held a job.

She was always telling me that I had to be good and obedient, that it hadn't been easy for her to raise me alone. Hence, starting from when I was seven, she delegated the cooking and cleaning of the house to me.

All these, I could still accept.

However, what I couldn't believe was that Mom would destroy the thing I held most dear just to teach me a lesson.

This incident had truly scared me, so I decided to give myself one last day. Once I woke up tomorrow, I would return to being the obedient daughter again.

That night, I dreamed of Dad. He was working in the afterlife, yet the moment he spotted me, he set down the bricks he had been moving and pulled me into a tight hug.

"Oh, my poor daughter, you've really had it rough. It took me working hard in the afterlife for 15 years to finally get a chance to see you and your mother. I'm utterly heartbroken to see how much you've suffered."

His voice sounded like it was coming through a thick layer of mist, as I had long since devolved into a blubbering mess in his arms.

In the end, what truly comforted me was what he said at the end. He told me that he had set up a channel to create an account, and if I checked in with that account like how I did with Mom, I would be able to earn some allowance.

Feeling at ease, I finally fell asleep.

When I woke up the next morning, I lamented how I must have gone crazy from missing Dad so much that I would have such a strange dream about him.

Like usual, I checked in with Mom by wishing her good morning.

However, upon exiting that chat window, I noticed I had a new contact on my messaging app.

The profile photo was of Dad.