Chapter 1

It was the fifth year after my parents' divorce when I ran into my dad at school.

He had just finished a parent-teacher conference for Ethan, my stepbrother, who was the top student in his grade, and he was beaming.

The moment he saw me, his face fell.

"Is this what you usually wear to school? Is this how your mom raises you?"

He handed me a business card, his tone condescending.

"Take this. Tell your mom that if she just apologizes and admits her mistakes, I'll immediately enroll you in an advanced placement program. It's better than rotting away in a regular class."

I didn't take it, just stepped back.

"No need, Mr. Maxwell."

His brow furrowed, his eyes filled with disgust.

"Just like your mother, a lost cause. Don't ever tell anyone you're my daughter again."

I clutched the paper in my hand, watching him leave with a calm expression.

He didn't know,

That wasn't my report card.

It was my withdrawal application, after Mom died and there was no one left to pay my tuition.

I refolded the paper and went to the Registrar's Office.

Ms. Davies took it, first flipping to the report card tucked inside, pausing for two seconds.

"Chloe, are you really sure about this?"

"With your grades, dropping out now would be such a waste. You've always been in the top few in your regular class, and your last practice test scores were good enough to get you into a top university."

I gripped my backpack strap, simply shaking my head gently.

Another teacher, who had just returned from outside, was in the office and casually mentioned,

"Mr. Maxwell came for a parent-teacher conference today, and afterwards, he donated an additional scholarship fund to the school, specifically for the top ten students in each grade and those in academic competitions. The principal was just praising him."

Another teacher laughed and chimed in,

"He's truly dedicated to that boy. I heard he's even planned out his future college abroad."

"And the kid is bright, consistently ranking first in his grade. Of course, the school welcomes parents like that."

I stood by the desk, silent.

There were a few other students at the door, here to submit paperwork, and they couldn't help but glance my way.

Someone looked at the withdrawal application in my hand, then at my faded school uniform, and murmured softly,

"They're both kids, but their fates are truly different."

"Someone like Mr. Maxwell, with such a good reputation publicly, donating money to the school and even personally attending parent-teacher conferences, he surely wouldn't neglect his own daughter privately, would he?"

I looked up and met their gaze.

"Whether he neglects me isn't about what he says, but what he's done these past five years."

That person froze.

The office fell silent for a moment.

Ms. Davies looked at me, as if wanting to ask something, but in the end, she didn't. She just placed the withdrawal application beneath a corner of her desk.

I turned and walked out.

The school hallway was long. Light streamed in through the windows, making the floor tiles alternately bright and dark.

I walked past the Wall of Fame and saw the photo in the very center.

Richard Maxwell stood to one side, while Ethan stood in the middle, holding a trophy. Both of them were smiling.

It was a perfect photo.

Polished, shining, like a real father and son.

Who would ever connect them to me?

After school, I went to my part-time job at the convenience store as usual.

After the evening rush, I stood behind the counter again, busy until almost ten at night.

Mr. Henderson, the store manager, poured me a cup of hot water and placed it by my hand.

"Is the school hassling you for tuition again?"

I gave a quiet affirmative.

Mr. Henderson sighed.

"When your mom was still around, she was most afraid of your education being disrupted. Every time she got her paycheck, the first thing she'd ask wasn't if she had enough for herself, but when your tuition bill was due. She always told me, 'We can scrimp and save on other things, but your education can't be cut short.'"

The scanner in my hand paused.

My gaze landed on the shelves, unmoving for a long time.

After Mom left, the first thing that was cut off wasn't my living expenses.

It was that feeling of someone caring about my schooling.

No matter how late I came home, she would always ask if my homework was done, how my exams went.

When she was at her sickest, with needles in the back of her hand, she was still mumbling about my midterms and college applications.

Now, no one asks.

There's no one even to remind me to bring my exam ID.

After work, I went to the local florist and bought a small bouquet of white flowers. Then I bought a discounted cake from a bakery that was about to close, and took the last bus to the cemetery.

The wind wasn't strong tonight; the mountain road was quiet.

I placed the flowers and cake before the grave, squatting down to look at Mom's photo.

"The school asked for tuition again today."

"I submitted the withdrawal application."

I paused, then recounted what had happened that afternoon.

"I saw Richard Maxwell at school today."

"He had just finished Ethan's parent-teacher conference, beaming."

"The first thing he said when he saw me was still asking if I usually dress like this for school. Then he handed me a business card, saying if you just apologized and admitted your mistakes, he'd immediately enroll me in an advanced placement program."

As I spoke, I couldn't help but let out a soft laugh.

The smile was so faint I could barely feel it myself.

"He still doesn't know you're dead."

I unwrapped the cake, cut a small piece with a tiny fork, and placed it on the small plate beside the grave.

"Mom, I originally wanted to hold on a bit longer."

"But I really can't anymore."

"Please don't blame me."

I stared at the gravestone, my throat tightening.

"I know you were most afraid of me not going to school."

"But I've truly tried my best."

The wind swept down from the mountain, rustling the blades of grass before the grave with a faint, brittle sound.

I sat by the grave for a long time, until my phone screen lit up.

It was a message from Ms. Davies.

【Please come to school tomorrow to pack up your personal belongings.】