Chapter 3

The next morning, my mom dragged us all to the mall.

She said since Chloe was joining a big company, she needed a brand-new wardrobe.

A six-thousand-dollar designer suit, a fifteen-thousand-dollar work bag, and five-thousand-dollar high heels.

Every time Chloe looked at a price tag in hesitation, my mom would smile and tell her not to worry about the cost.

"You're going to be working at a top firm. You need to look the part."

My dad happily handed over his credit card at the register.

Marcus, his hands full of shopping bags, asked Chloe if she wanted some designer perfume too.

Ethan knelt down, gently feeling the back of Chloe's new heels.

"The leather here is a bit stiff. Let's try another pair. I don't want you getting blisters on your first day."

I stood a few paces away, watching his gentle profile.

During our four years of college, I had walked miles in ill-fitting shoes just to keep him company.

When my heels bled, he only laughed and said I was being dramatic.

It turned out he knew shoes could hurt.

It was just that when those shoes were on my feet, it wasn't worth his concern.

Passing by a luggage store, I stopped.

My suitcase was ten years old, and the corners were cracked.

I had wrapped layers of duct tape around it, and the wheels were completely uneven.

I picked the cheapest one in the store.

One hundred and twenty-nine dollars.

Instead of taking it straight to the counter, I walked over to my dad.

"Can I get this?"

Perhaps, even now, I still held onto a stupid shred of hope.

They had just spent over thirty thousand dollars buying luxury clothes, shoes, and bags for Chloe.

A hundred-dollar suitcase shouldn't be too much to ask for, right?

Maybe I just wanted to prove that I still held some tiny fraction of a place in their hearts.

But my dad only frowned.

"Don't we have suitcases at home?"

"That one is ten years old, Dad. It's broken."

"Just because it's broken doesn't mean it's unusable. Do you think your parents' hard-earned money is for you to throw away like this?"

My mom walked over, scoffing.

"Chloe got a prestigious job, so of course she needs nice things."

She glanced at the suitcase in my hand, her tone filled with annoyance.

"What kind of job are you going to get that warrants a fancy suitcase like this?"

"You'll probably end up as a receptionist somewhere. Nobody cares what bag you bring. Just make do with the old one."

Marcus chuckled from the side. "She's just jealous. She saw Chloe buying things, so now she wants to compete."

My hand froze on the handle. Slowly, I put the suitcase back.

Chloe stood outside the store, her fifteen-thousand-dollar bag on her shoulder, surrounded by shopping bags.

"Natalie, aren't you buying anything?"

"No."

I looked down at my worn-out canvas tote bag.

It wasn't that the family was broke.

And it wasn't that appearance didn't matter.

It was just that whenever it came to me, everything became "unnecessary" and "wasteful."

That evening, my mom booked a private room at a nice restaurant to celebrate our graduation.

A massive cake sat in the center of the table.

The moment I walked in, the icing caught my eye.

Congratulations on Graduation, Chloe! Wishing you a brilliant future!

Chloe looked slightly embarrassed. "Helen, did you forget to write Natalie's name?"

My mom didn't even look up. "She doesn't like cake anyway. It doesn't matter."

Actually, I loved cake.

She had just never bought one for me.

During dinner, my dad handed a recommendation letter to Chloe.

"I've already spoken to my contact. You can report to Aegis Group next week. The office is close to home, and the pay is great."

Chloe's eyes turned red. "You guys are too good to me. I don't know how to repay you."

My mom squeezed her hand. "Oh, sweetie, don't talk about repaying us. We already think of you as our own daughter."

Watching them hold hands, I suddenly felt like an intruder sitting at the wrong table.

The warm, family scene was so blindingly bright that my presence felt like a stain on their perfect picture.

When the bill came, my mom paid for Chloe's share.

But a second later, a Snapchat split-bill request of $136.50 popped up on my phone.

Sent by my mom.

Only I was asked to pay.

"Natalie, you've graduated now. You can't keep relying on your parents' money."

"From now on, you'll need to pay your share for dinners, rent for your room, and utilities."

I stared at the split-bill request down to the cents. I didn't say a word.

I just quietly clicked pay.