Chapter 4

I stepped past them and walked away.

Behind me, Dad's voice erupted like a sudden crack of thunder. "Jolene, you really are shameless! It's better without you around. Just looking at you makes me sick!"

For a brief moment, my footsteps faltered. Being spat at by the people closest to me sent a dull ache through my chest. But I didn't turn back. Without hesitation, I put distance between us.

I thought staying away would mean peace of mind, but only a few days passed before I had to seek them out again.

Grandma had fallen ill. The cold had worn down her body.

I had no money, no time, no options. I had to ask them for help.

When I arrived at the house I had left nearly a month ago, laughter spilled from inside, warm and full, like the glow of a candle flickering through a half-open door.

Through the narrow gap, I saw a room alive with celebration. The decorations were bright and festive. A group of people gathered around Fiona, singing the birthday song. She wore a party hat, her smile radiant, like a little princess.

I stood outside in the bitter wind for a long time.

…

I had been so busy taking care of Grandma that I forgot today was Fiona's birthday.

My own birthday had passed just half a month earlier.

Every year, my birthday had always been postponed so it could be celebrated together with hers.

This year, no one remembered mine. It had fallen right after my parents' divorce negotiations began. At the time, I was still a few days away from turning eighteen, so custody had to be decided.

On my birthday, I was at school. After class, Grandma brought me a few boiled eggs.

That was it—my only eighteenth birthday. Gone in an instant.

I never cared much for birthdays. Being forced to share a cake with Fiona year after year had long drained them of any joy. The taste of cream only left me feeling sick.

The memory that stood out the most was from elementary school.

As always, my birthday had been pushed back to be celebrated alongside hers. One of Dad's friends had gifted us an expensive box of imported chocolates. The packaging was beautiful and delicate.

Mom glanced at me and said, "Your sister is younger than you. You should let her have it."

And so, the entire box went to Fiona.

I didn't receive a single gift.

I had wanted those chocolates so badly, but I didn't dare ask. I knew it would be useless. If I said anything, I'd only be scolded for being greedy.

So, I saved up my allowance for weeks and bought one. Just one piece.

Once I had it, I couldn't bear to eat it. I kept it in my drawer, taking it out now and then just to look at it.

Then, Fiona saw it.

She started crying immediately, running to my parents, screaming that I had stolen her chocolate.

I thought if I explained clearly, the misunderstanding would be resolved.

I told them, "I bought this myself. I didn't take it from her box."

But before I could finish, Mom's palm struck my cheek.

"So young, and already a liar. What kind of person will you grow up to be? If you didn't steal from your sister, are you saying she falsely accused you?"

The slap stung, but her words hurt even more.

By then, I had already learned not to expect fairness.

I met her gaze calmly and said, "If you don't believe me, I'll take you to the store."

So I did.

The store owner remembered me.

She had asked why I hadn't come with my parents when I'd handed her a pile of crumpled bills in exchange for a single piece of expensive candy.

She confirmed my story.

Finally, my parents realized they had been wrong.

But they never apologized.

Instead, they shoved me toward the door, telling me to hurry up and leave.

"You've embarrassed us enough. All this fuss over one piece of chocolate? How petty."

Children don't understand things like embarrassment or pride.