I replied, “You’re their only son—how could I possibly have a problem with you?”

My father’s face instantly darkened. He glanced at my mother and said, “Control your son. Don’t know who he learned that sarcastic tone from.”

“I’ll have a good talk with him.”

Margaret’s expression tightened as she nodded, then hurriedly dragged me out the door—and the moment we stepped outside, she slapped me across the face.

In front of me, she no longer had to act meek and submissive.

What I never expected was that the first real mother–son conversation we’d had in years would happen like this—and end like this.

“How many times have I told you? Ryan is your father’s and his white moonlight’s child.”

“Why do you have to keep going against him? He’s only two months younger than you—can’t you let him have his way?”

“If you push your father too far, he’ll throw me out!”

“If you won’t think for yourself, can’t you think for me? Can’t you just swallow your pride a little?”

Her incoherent shouts spilled out all her pent-up frustration, as if I were the obstacle preventing her and my father from living happily ever after.

But hadn’t I already given in enough?

When I was in middle school, my father brought Ryan into our home, and my mother accepted it without protest.

Later, Ryan said he couldn’t sleep sharing a room with me—he was used to living alone.

My mother cried and hugged me, asking me to make a little sacrifice.

So I moved into a tiny rented apartment.

In high school, my father said supporting three kids’ education was too much of a financial burden and planned to pull me out of school.

My mother said my grades were mediocre and that the opportunity should go to Ryan and Emily.

I didn’t want her stuck between us, suffering.

So I dropped out.

From then on, I never took a penny from the family. I worked all kinds of part-time jobs.

Whenever I had extra money, I gave it to my parents, or bought gifts for Emily and Ryan.

Every day, I made lunch and dinner.

Year after year.

I tried my best to win their approval, but I was still denied a place in this family.

Hadn’t I sacrificed enough?

I held back my tears, took a deep breath, and said seriously to my mother, “Mom… let’s take Emily and leave together.”

She froze for a moment—then slapped me again, harder this time.

“I just want to live in peace. If you want to go, go by yourself!”

That stinging pain shattered all my illusions.

I should have known long ago—

With or without her love, it’s all the same.

With or without this family, it’s all the same.

I might long for them, but they are selfish to the core.

I said nothing more and turned to leave.

“Ethan…”

She seemed like she wanted to chase after me, but then Ryan stepped out of the hospital room.

She froze in place.

“Auntie,” Ryan said, “Do you think big brother’s really so mad he won’t come back?”

“Don’t worry,” she replied with a sudden smile, her tone warm again. “I know Ethan. He’s probably just gone to get money.”

Hearing that, I clenched my fists. The tears I’d held back for so long finally fell.

Back in my dark, damp apartment, my entire world was a wobbly table, a wire-frame bed, and a few books.

Two mice sat on the edge of the table, gnawing at stale bread rolls.

They had kept me company through countless nights, so I wasn’t afraid at all.

I took the enlistment invitation letter from my drawer and signed my name.

In the years since I’d dropped out, I’d often spent my free time at the library, teaching myself all kinds of subjects.

Just a week ago, after leaving the library one night, I fought off a mugger and saved an old man.

He seemed to be someone of status—he somehow learned all about me and offered me the chance to join the military.

The only condition: I had to pass three selection tests.

I passed all the tests and received the invitation letter—yet I hesitated.

Because part of me still couldn’t let go of this family.

But today, my sister made me realize—whether I’m here or not, it makes no difference.

Maybe my bond with them isn’t even as close as the one I have with those two mice.

Buzz!

Just then, my phone vibrated.

Ryan posted in the family group chat:

“Sorry, big brother, hurry back to the hospital to take care of Dad, Auntie, and Emily. I promise I’ll cook the green beans properly next time, so don’t be mad, okay?”

Margaret wrote:

“Stop fooling around and come back to apologize to everyone.”

Robert wrote:

“The hospital is pressing us—get here and pay the bill, and bring me two cartons of cigarettes while you’re at it.”

Emily wrote:

“As long as you admit you were wrong, we’ll forgive you! By the way, the tablet you bought me should have arrived, right? Bring it along!”

Looking at these messages, my chest tightened.

To Ryan: “You can’t take care of Mom and Dad yourself?”

To Mom: “If you think I’m fooling around, then fine—I’m fooling around.”

To Dad: “I don’t have money. Ask your Ryan.”

To Emily: “I already returned the tablet. If you want one, ask Mom and Ryan to buy it for you.”

One by one, I sent my replies.

Then I left the group.

I should’ve left it a long time ago.

That group only lit up when they needed something from me—otherwise, it was quieter than a graveyard.

But keeping it there gave me the illusion I was still part of the family.

A tiny shred of hope.

Margaret sent another message, scolding me for being immature.

This time, I didn’t respond. I tossed the phone aside and buried myself under the blanket.

The next day, after completing my paperwork, I was packing my things at night when Robert burst in.

He reeked of alcohol, jabbing a finger at my face.

“You little bastard, think you’ve grown wings? Won’t pay the hospital bill, won’t buy my cigarettes?”

“You ungrateful piece of trash!”

I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“All these years I’ve been pouring money into this family, and you call me ungrateful? Then what does that make Ryan?”

Hearing that, he flew into a rage, cursing as he started smashing things.

Chairs, tables, lamps—shattered.

Bedding yanked to the floor.

I just stood there silently until he was done.

When he finally stopped, I said, “If you’re done, then leave.”

Instead, he kicked me hard in the stomach.

“You unfilial brat!”

“I’ll kill you!”

“Should’ve never had you in the first place!”

Blood welled up at the corner of my mouth.

I curled up on the floor, letting him beat and curse me.

Not fighting back.

It was the last kindness I could give him.

It only ended when the neighbors called the police.

The whole family rushed to the station after hearing the news.

Margaret ran into the break room where I was resting.

Seeing her anxious face, my heart skipped—thinking maybe she was worried about me.

“Sign the withdrawal statement!” she demanded.

She shoved a document toward me.

The little hope that had just sparked inside me was instantly extinguished, leaving me ice-cold.

“What are you standing there for? Sign it! If you’d just paid the hospital bill, your father wouldn’t have gotten drunk and come after you.”

“It’s my fault again?” I pointed at the bandage on my bleeding forehead, my eyes full of disbelief.

Emily happened to be standing in the doorway. She immediately pouted and snapped,

“If it’s not your fault, whose is it?”

“You’re Dad’s son—beating you to death would be justified! And you actually called the police? You really are ungrateful!”

I was at a loss for words, my throat tight.

“Sign it!” Margaret pressed.

“If your dad goes to jail, he’ll lose his job, and it’ll ruin Ryan’s chances at a government position! Can’t you be sensible? Do you want to drive me to my death?”