I forced myself to my feet, but my vision went black, and I crumpled to the floor.

When I came to, Mom was sitting beside my bed, watching me. Just like always, her first words were a reprimand.

"Natalie, can't you take care of yourself? I've told you over and over to eat properly instead of constantly trying to lose weight, but you never listen. Now, you've fainted from not eating. Is this what you wanted?"

I wanted to tell her I wasn't starving myself to lose weight. The pain had gotten so bad that I couldn't eat.

When I didn't respond, Mom let out a sigh and quietly began feeding me spoonfuls of chicken noodle soup.

I recognized the taste. She had made it herself.

I never knew how to describe our relationship. It felt like a soaking wet coat in the dead of winter. Wearing it left me cold, but taking it off didn't make it any better.

I managed to finish half the bowl of chicken noodle soup before Mom spoke up again.

"How about I take you out tomorrow? Think of it as a chance to relax."

But I didn't dare to say yes again. I simply shook my head and replied, "No. I still have a lot left to study for my prep courses."

Mom nodded, her face unreadable. Then, she said, "Good. At least you're improving. Usually, all you care about is going out and having fun.

"Tomorrow, I'm taking you to meet some friends. Their kids are retaking senior year, too, but none of them are doing as well as you. So, make sure you present yourself properly."

Her answer didn't surprise me. To her, I was just a trophy to parade in front of other people.

…

The next day, everyone sat together around the dinner table. Before I'd even finished chewing, Mom turned to me. "Nat, who wrote 'The Courtyard After Rain'?"

I froze for a beat before answering, "Ezra Thorne."

"And what was the final line of the poem?"

I was already a high school senior, yet she still treated me like a little kid, quizzing me in front of everyone.

Still, I pulled a notebook and pen from my bag and carefully wrote the line down.

The people around us immediately began complimenting me. "Just look at Natalie. She comes out to dinner with her notebooks. Meanwhile, my kid only cares about having a good time."

Despite her words, that lady was smiling when she looked at her own child.

"Natalie's going places, Donna. You'll have nothing left to worry about once she makes it," someone else said.

Mom kept nodding in response. As she looked at me, a hint of pride flickered in her eyes.

…

After everyone left, I wanted to ask Mom to take a walk by the river with me. I'd done well tonight, after all. Maybe that meant I could ask for something in return.

But the look she gave me made the words die in my throat.

"Do you know what you did wrong tonight?" Mom questioned.

I went over every moment from the evening and still couldn't figure out what I'd done to upset her.

She sat back down and slammed her hand on the table, so hard that it shook the room.

"Everyone else's kids got up and performed something, and you sat there like a statue! You're far too quiet and reserved. How are you supposed to make it in the real world acting like that? I'm calling Ms. Turner tomorrow and signing you up for extra coaching."

Mom's words blurred into a buzz in my head.

She was the one who told me that ladies should be poised and never draw attention to themselves. But now, she was criticizing me for being too quiet and reserved.

By the end, all I could see was her mouth moving. I couldn't hear a single word anymore.

My vision blurred until I finally closed my eyes against the pain. I couldn't bring myself to face the fact that I was about to die.

Even then, I still hoped Mom would notice something was wrong. I wished she'd realize I was truly sick, then apologize and tell me she'd misunderstood me.

But she didn't. She only looked down at me and snapped, "Really, Natalie? The same act again? Couldn't you come up with something new for once?"

At that moment, I gave up completely. I understood that I would never receive the love I'd been longing for.

After recovering a little, I looked up at Mom. "Would you be happy if I died?"

After the words left my mouth, silence fell between Mom and me.

Moments later, a scoff pierced the quiet. "If you want to die, then do it already. Stop holding me back. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be trapped in this small town."

Mom turned toward the window, refusing to spare me another glance. Yet, her fingers trembled ever so slightly.

I wiped my tears away before she could see me crying.

I didn't let her take me back to the prep academy. Instead, I stared at her defiantly and declared, "Give me three more days. I'll become the perfect daughter you've always wanted."

This time, it was my turn to walk away without looking back.

Back at the academy, I pushed through the discomfort and memorized every line of the handbook until I knew it by heart.

…

Three days before the end, I scored a perfect grade on the latest exam. Mom texted me to say she was proud of me and promised that once the program was over, she'd take me abroad for vacation.

I didn't believe her. Besides, I was running out of time.

With two days left, I gave a speech at the ceremony as the program's top student.

Mom called me afterward and cried the entire night. She said I was the reason she kept going and the reason she worked so hard to survive.

I thought to myself, "But Mom… I was already dying. How could I possibly be that for you?"

…

On the final day, I received the "Perfect Daughter" trophy. It was heavy in my hands.

I was the only one in the program who got it.

Looking at the trophy, I smiled. Then, my vision blurred again.

I grew up without a father, so I always wanted to make Mom proud. But no matter what I did, it was never enough for her. Now, she should be satisfied, right?

Just then, my phone rang. It was Mom, yet I didn't answer.

After ignoring the call, I went straight to the orphanage and donated every dollar I had saved to help the sick kids.

On my way out, I ran into my attending physician.

I had already lost over 30 pounds because of my illness. My doctor adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses and looked at me with serious concern.

"Why aren't you in the hospital? Why aren't you getting treatment?" he asked.

The truth was, we both knew the treatment could only delay the inevitable. But I had already stopped wanting to live in this world.

…

When I returned to the academy, Ms. Turner told me the graduation ceremony would be at 3:00 pm. Mom would be there too, as the parent of the program's top student.

Ms. Turner held my hand tightly, her voice thick with admiration as she said, "Natalie, you've improved more than anyone in the program.

"You went from scoring zero on the placement test to earning the title of 'Perfect Daughter' in just seven days. Who would've believed it? Your mother isn't the only one who's proud of you. I am too."

I nodded with a smile.

Suddenly, a metallic taste rose in my throat. And by the time Ms. Turner left my dorm, I could barely see clearly anymore.

Then, I lost control of my bladder. I stared at the liquid beneath me, hating myself for not having the courage to end things sooner. But I was a coward.

Outside, the music grew louder. A voice over the loudspeaker called my name, urging me to get to the field immediately.

Yet, I wouldn't make it.

The past flashed before my eyes—Dad leaving without hesitation, and Mom holding me as she sobbed.

At that moment, the dorm door burst open.

Mom stood in the doorway, her face pale with shock. Despite her obsession with cleanliness, she pulled me tightly into her arms.

"Nat… what happened to you? Don't scare me, please…"

I reached out with what little strength I had left and held the trophy toward her. "Mom… am I your perfect daughter now?"