Chapter 6
My father’s hand whipped across my face with a crack.
“You ungrateful brat!” he roared. “Your mother should’ve aborted you when she had the chance. Then we wouldn’t have to put up with your nonsense today!”
My cheek burned, but I bit back the tears threatening to spill.
“Ever since I started working, I’ve been sending you money every year,” I snapped. “I’ve done more than enough for this family. I don’t owe you a damn thing!”
I shoved him aside, grabbed my suitcase, and headed for the door.
But he grabbed the handle of my suitcase, yanking it back.
“I said you can’t leave, so you’re not leaving!”
My mother rushed over and seized my arm.
“Talia, you heartless wretch! All these years of raising you were for nothing!”
Anger surged hotter than my hurt. I dropped to the floor and glared up at them.
“Fine. You want me to stay? Then give me ten grand for dialysis. Once I’m healthy, I’ll help your precious daughter.”
My mother released me immediately, disgust etched on her face.
“Useless thing. I can’t rely on you for anything.”
My father snatched up my luggage and hurled it out the door.
“And don’t you dare die in our house,” he spat. “That would bring bad luck!”
I dragged myself up with the help of my suitcase.
“So you’re not going to stop me this time? Good. I’m leaving.”
“Get out of here!” my father barked, his face twisted with disdain.
I grabbed my things and bolted, terrified they’d change their minds and lock me in.
Back at my tiny rental apartment, I immediately messaged my childhood friend back in the village, telling her to keep me updated on my parents.
As I expected, the next few days were chaotic. My parents exhausted every connection they had trying to get my sister out of jail. But she had committed a real crime, and no amount of favors or begging could save her.
The village chief and angry farmers came to our house daily, demanding compensation for the crops, the road, the damage.
Desperate, my parents started trying to sell the house and land.
But even selling everything couldn’t cover the enormous debt.
My sister would still serve prison time, face spending restrictions, and be branded a dishonest person. My nephew’s future would be tainted too.
When my friend told me that my parents’ hair had turned completely white overnight, making them look ten years older, I felt nothing. No pity. No sympathy. This was simply justice.
But one evening, when I came home from work, my blood ran cold.
My parents were sitting on the steps outside my building-my nephew cradled in their arms. They had actually come all the way to the city.
And then I remembered: I had once given them my address, asking them to send me something.
“Mom. Dad. What are you doing here?”
My mother gave me a pitiful look.
“Talia, we have nowhere to go. We sold our house and land. We have nothing left-no roof over our heads. We had no choice but to come to you.”
My stomach knotted with regret. I should’ve moved months ago.
The moment I unlocked the door, they rushed inside, as if afraid I might shut them out.
I didn’t waste a second. I started packing.
My mother’s voice turned sharp.
“What are you packing for?”
“This apartment is too small,” I said flatly. “There’s no space for four people. I’m moving into my office.”
The lease was about to expire anyway. They could stay and rot here if they wanted.
My mother grabbed my wrist, tears spilling down her face.
‘Talia, you won’t abandon us, will you? I know I treated you badly before, but we’re still family. It wasn’t easy raising you. Don’t turn your back on us now!”
‘How do you expect me to take care of you?” I said, my voice like ice. “I’ve already given you this apartment. I have no money, I’m drowning in debt, and I’m done being your cash machine.”
My mother pulled my nephew forward and shoved him toward me.
‘I don’t want your money,” she said desperately. “I just want you to take care of Caleb. You sister’s going to prison-he’ll have no one left. He’s just a child. Don’t be so cruel.”
