A month later, my phone received a text from an unfamiliar number.

"Miles, it’s Mom. Calvin says you blocked him? Stop being stubborn. Come home. Noah actually misses you."

I deleted the message without replying.

A short while later, my phone rang. It was Mom.

I answered. She said, "Miles, that’s enough. I had Calvin transfer $2,000 to your card. That should last you for a while. Come home this weekend for dinner. Families don’t hold grudges overnight."

I looked at the computer screen in front of me.

I had just finished writing a block of code. This was my first freelance project, and the payment was $3,000.

"No need," I said. "Keep the money. I’m not coming back."

"You—" She suppressed her anger. "Where are you right now? I’ll have the driver pick you up."

"I’m where I’m supposed to be."

I hung up.

A few minutes later, Noah sent me a message.

"Bro, don’t be mad at Mom. She actually cares about you. So does Pops. He’s just afraid you’ll spend money recklessly and pick up bad habits. Come back. I bought a bunch of new sneakers. I’ll give you a pair."

He attached a photo. It was his shoe cabinet, which had rows upon rows of sneakers under bright lights, appearing dazzling and excessive.

I saved the screenshot and replied, "Keep them for yourself. After all, your Pops said athletes need gear. They need the right setup. As for me, I’ve long been used to wearing old clothes."

Noah replied quickly with a string of crying emojis. "Bro, how can you say that about me? If Mom finds out, she’ll be upset."

Sure enough, Mom called again. This time, her voice carried anger. "Miles, how could you talk to your brother like that? Noah was showing concern, and this is your attitude?"

"Was it really concern?" I asked. "Mom, do you know that my math competition registration fee was delayed until it expired?"

She paused. "What competition? Calvin said that competition wasn’t useful anyway…"

"Then do you know that for the past three years, I had to submit an application in the Family Expense Portal just to buy a pair of socks?"

"That… that was to teach you financial discipline!" Her voice rose. "So now you’re blaming me? I fed you, clothed you, supported you… and I did it wrong?"

The same pattern.

Always the same.

I was tired.

"Forget it," I said. "You’ll always think you’re right."

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds. When she spoke again, her tone had softened.

"Miles, I'm doing this for your own good. How about this? Going forward, I’ll have Finance transfer your living expenses to you directly every month. We won’t go through the Family Expense Portal anymore. Okay?

"And since you were recommended for admission, what kind of reward do you want? A phone? A laptop? I will buy it for you.

"Noah’s birthday celebration is next month. Come back then. We’re family…"

I closed my eyes.

You see, she never understood. She thought I was throwing a tantrum and that I wanted more attention, more material things.

"Mom," I cut her off. "I don’t need a new phone. I don’t need to attend a birthday party. I just need you to understand this: my leaving this family wasn’t an impulse. It was premeditated.

"Three years ago, when Dad cried and begged me not to go, and I chose you for in-state residency, I already knew this was a transaction.

"Now, the transaction is over."

…

The next time I saw my mom was at a university admissions consultation fair.

I was there as a volunteer, helping guide attendees. I wore a plain white T-shirt and jeans, all clothes bought with money that I earned myself.

She appeared at the venue with Noah and Calvin. Noah was applying as a student athlete.

When she saw me, Mom clearly froze.

Noah spoke first, his voice sweet and innocent, "Bro? What are you doing here? Are you working a part-time job?"

Calvin looked me over, his gaze lingering on the volunteer T-shirt I was wearing. A trace of barely concealed disdain flashed through his eyes, but his tone remained mild. "Miles, it’s been a while. Why are you helping out here? Is your coursework not that intense?"

I ignored them and looked at Mom. "Did you need something?"

Her expression was complicated; it was a mix of surprise, irritation, and a trace of something else. Maybe guilt.

She stayed silent for a few seconds before speaking quietly, "Noah wants to apply to this university through the athletics track. We came to take a look."

She paused, then lifted her eyes to me. Her tone was conflicted. "So… you really were recommended for admission."

It did not sound like a question, more like a confirmation that came too late. Perhaps she had known all along. She just never truly took it to heart.

Calvin forced a smile. "Miles is impressive. If we had known it was true, we would have celebrated properly."

Mom seemed to remember something suddenly. Her expression darkened. "The math competition you mentioned before… If you had won, would it have helped with your recommendation?"

I did not answer.

Noah panicked and grabbed Mom’s arm. "Mom, let’s go talk to the admissions desk first. We’re running out of time…"

Calvin hurried to smooth things over. "Let’s not bring up the past. Miles is doing well now, isn’t he? Let’s focus on Noah’s application first."

However, Mom did not move. She looked straight into my eyes. Her voice was dry. "That competition… Was it because the registration fee wasn’t paid in time that you couldn’t participate?"

Noah rushed to speak, "Mom, that competition really wasn’t that useful. My classmates joined and didn’t win anything either…"

"Did I ask you?"

It was the first time she had ever spoken to him in such a harsh tone. Noah’s eyes immediately reddened.

Calvin pulled his son close. "Elaine, why are you yelling at Noah? He was just concerned about his brother!"

I watched the whole scene unfold and felt nothing but absurdity.

"Does it matter?" I asked Mom. "I’ve already been recommended anyway."

She opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say something. In the end, she only let out a sigh. "Miles… I didn’t know that competition was that important. Calvin probably didn’t understand either…"

"He didn’t understand?" I laughed softly. "When Noah was in tenth grade, he competed in the National Youth Track Championship. The registration and equipment fees totaled $5,000. You transferred the money the same day. Was that competition really more useful than a math competition?"

My mom froze.

Calvin’s face turned pale. "Miles, how can you compare things like that? Noah is an athlete. That competition was crucial for his future education…"

"And my competition wasn’t important to me?" I asked calmly. "Or is it that, in your eyes, only Noah’s future counts as a future, and mine can be delayed without consequence?"

People nearby began to look over.

Mom could no longer hold her composure. She lowered her voice. "If there’s something to talk about, we’ll talk about it at home. Don’t make a scene here."

"Home?" I shook my head. "That isn’t my home."

I turned to leave. Suddenly, Mom grabbed my arm.

"Miles, I will make it up to you. What do you want? To study abroad? I’ll pay for it."

"No need." I pulled my hand back. " I never wanted any of that."