Chapter 1

I had a poor appetite and left half my bowl of rice.

My dad, Arthur, gently patted my head with concern. "Why are you eating so little, sweetie? You’re getting so thin."

My mom, Clara, chimed in from the side, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "She’s growing up. She’s starting to care about her looks. Unlike me. After I had her, I gained so much weight and never lost it."

Arthur didn’t notice the coldness in her eyes. Without even looking up, he agreed, "True, you are a bit on the heavier side now. It’s not healthy. You should go on a diet."

Right after Arthur left the house, Clara marched into my room, holding the hot rice cooker pot.

She grabbed the back of my neck and slammed my face straight into the scalding hot rice.

"Eat! I said eat! Eat until you throw up!"

"Always playing the fake little angel in front of him! Let’s see you play dead now!"

The boiling hot rice pressed hard against my cheek. Every single grain felt like a branding iron.

"M-Mom... it burns..."

I struggled wildly, my hands clawing at the air, but her grip on my neck was like steel.

"Burns? Good! It should burn!"

Clara’s voice hissed in my ear, filled with a twisted, manic excitement. "Don’t you love playing the victim in front of him? I’ll give you something to actually cry about!"

Only when the residual heat of the rice finally faded did she roughly let go of me.

I collapsed onto the floor, clutching half of my face. The pain was so intense that I couldn't even scream. I could only make muffled, whimpering sounds like a wounded animal.

In the mirror, the left side of my face was blistered and bright red. A few squashed grains of rice still stuck to my skin. I looked pathetic and ridiculous.

Clara looked down at me, a twisted sense of satisfaction spreading across her face.

"Clean yourself up."

She pulled out a few wet wipes and threw them at my face. "When your father gets back, tell him you were clumsy. Tell him you slipped while carrying hot soup and fell face-first. Got it?"

With tears in my eyes, I nodded desperately.

I didn't dare to say no.

A few days later, Arthur returned.

When he saw the lingering scars on my face, his expression changed instantly. He rushed over to me.

"Lily! What happened to your face?"

I lowered my head, not daring to look him in the eye. I repeated the lie Clara had forced me to memorize: "...I was clumsy. I slipped."

Clara chimed in right on cue, her voice sounding full of "concern" and mild annoyance. "She’s sixteen, yet she’s still so clumsy."

"Fortunately, the soup wasn't boiling hot. Otherwise, half her face would have been ruined."

Arthur gently cupped my face, blowing softly on my cheek. "You silly girl. Be careful next time."

His hands were warm and dry. He smelled of tobacco and aftershave.

Instinctively, I wanted to lean into his warmth.

But behind him, Clara’s gaze felt like poisoned needles stabbing into my back.

I quickly took a step back, escaping Arthur’s touch.

"Dad, I’m fine. I’m going to my room to do homework."

I fled to my room, shut the door, and slid down against it. The tears fell silently.

I wanted so badly to tell Arthur the truth.

But I didn't dare.

Arthur loved me, but he loved Clara too.

Clara always told me that the only reason Arthur cared about me was because I was her daughter.

I believed her.

Besides, Arthur was always so busy.

Most of the time, we didn't even see each other once a week.

I was nothing but a doll in Clara’s hands, to be played with or broken at her whim.

From that day on, I stopped responding to Arthur’s kindness.

Because I knew that every ounce of love he showed me would only make Clara burn with jealousy.

And later, she would take out all her bottled-up rage on me in the most brutal ways.