The happiness on Simone's face was blinding.

I knew she was doing it on purpose.

Just like countless times before, she would use an innocent tone to push me to the edge and make me lose control.

Then, she would tilt her head and ask, "Felicia, are you throwing a tantrum?"

I had endured her cruelty time and time again in my previous life.

Everyone thought I was overreacting. They thought I was petty and difficult.

Only I knew the truth. All I ever wanted from the start was fairness.

But now, it didn't matter anymore.

I calmly took the family portrait and gave a sincere smile. "It does look nice."

Simone's smile froze.

Riley was surprised by my reaction. She had expected me to get angry and had probably even prepared a lecture about how immature I was.

Now the words were stuck in her throat. All she could do was laugh awkwardly.

"W-we'll take one with you too next time."

I nodded lightly.

There wouldn't be a next time.

Riley couldn't read my thoughts. My silence made her uneasy. "You just got unlucky, Fifi. It's your sister's birthday in a few days. We're going abroad for a trip."

"Yeah, Felicia. You didn't get to travel much before, right? This time, the whole family can take you places," Simone chimed in.

I remained completely unmoved.

"That's not necessary. I'm not going."

The small trace of guilt Riley had just shown vanished instantly. She frowned. "Don't be ridiculous. It's your sister's birthday. How can you not go?"

I was unfazed by her questioning.

"Firstly, I don't have a passport. I can't leave the country," I began. "Secondly, I'll be busy with something else during those days."

Riley froze. "You don't have a passport? How could you not have one? Don't we renew them every—"

She stopped mid-sentence.

The three of them renewed their passports every year. But I had only come back home this year.

Not one of them had remembered that I didn't even have a passport, let alone thought to take me to get one.

In my previous life, even after I got married and had a child, I never once went abroad with the family.

I wasn't expecting to do so in this life either.

"Enough!"

Michael, who had been sitting silently on the couch the whole time, finally spoke. "Have someone rush the paperwork. It'll still make it in time.

"As for whatever you're busy with, just cancel it. What could possibly be more important than your sister's birthday?"

He decided everything for me with a few casual words.

My opinion had never mattered.

My lips curled into a mocking smile.

For the first time in both my lifetimes, I spoke against his authority. "Dad, I'm not going. My project doesn't allow me to leave the country. If you think what I'm doing isn't important, then feel free to talk it out with my advisor."

He frowned deeply.

"Who is your advisor? I'll talk to him myself," he grumbled, displeased.

"Mr. Reyner from the National University of Defense Technology."

Michael paused, then his eyes widened in shock. "You mean the Paul Reyner? The 'Father of Rockets'? How could he possibly be your advisor? Besides, why haven't you mentioned you're studying at the National University of Defense Technology?"

I felt like laughing. "It's because you guys never asked," I replied.

My grades were still posted on the wall back at the orphanage. My suitcase was filled with trophies I had earned over the years.

It wasn't that I wasn't good enough—they just chose not to see it.

After that day, my parents seemed to have come to their senses. They started making an effort to learn about my past.

At the dinner table, they would ask how life had been at the orphanage. They'd ask if school had been hard and if I'd been struggling.

I answered them evenly.

Meanwhile, Simone always found a way to steer the conversations back to herself. She never liked it when our parents' attention lingered on me.

I happily watched her cling to them and pout since it meant that I didn't have to deal with them.

Soon, the day I would leave them arrived.

To my surprise, my parents actually cleared their schedules. They even had the chef prepare a full table of dishes to send me off.

"Fifi, you're heading somewhere new. If you need anything, just give us a call."

"That's right. Don't push yourself. We'll always have your back."

It was the first time they had ever said something like that to me, even if they sounded a little stiff doing so.

My silence only made things more awkward.

Riley pushed the dessert toward me to ease the tension. "Try this. I made it myself."

I glanced at the thick layer of mango on top and replied flatly, "No thanks. I'm allergic to mango."

Riley blinked in surprise.

"Really? I thought you loved—"

She stopped herself.

She must've remembered that the one who loved mango wasn't me, but Simone.

"Then have some of the dishes! You're from the south, right? We had the chef make all your favorites," Michael said, clearing his throat.

I looked at the table full of golden, oily dishes and couldn't help but scoff. "I've had stomach problems since I was a kid. I can't eat fried food."

The air grew even more tense.

Simone pressed her lips together.

"Felicia, Mom and Dad meant well. You didn't have to say it like that," she lectured. "It wouldn't hurt to take a bite or two."

Her thoughtfulness earned approving looks from the two, making me seem even colder in comparison.

Riley frowned. "Just look at Simone. She's so considerate. Why are you always so difficult?"

"That's right. I am difficult. I'll skip the meal. My ride's already here," I agreed with her.

Michael held it in as long as he could, but he finally snapped.

"We went through all this trouble to prepare these dishes for you. Now that you've found someone to rely on, do you think you can act however you want? Believe me, I'll cut off your allowance!"

I didn't stop walking. When I reached the front door, I turned back toward them and smiled coldly. "Go ahead, Dad. I've never received a single cent from you anyway."

The door slammed shut behind me. Even then, I could still hear his confused voice from inside.

"Wasn't she getting money from you?"

"I don't know! I thought you were handling it!"

"She's your daughter. How could you not care about something like that?"

"And you think you did any better? You didn't remember either!"