Chapter 2

From that day on, I deliberately avoided Arthur.

On the rare occasions he came home, I locked myself in my room.

When he called me for dinner, I always said I wasn't hungry.

When he wanted to talk about school, I answered with one-word grunts.

Arthur thought I was just going through a rebellious teenage phase. He only sighed with helplessness.

Clara, however, seemed very pleased with my "good behavior."

For a while, the tension in the house eased up.

Until Arthur came back from another business trip.

He brought back a beautiful white dress for me.

"Our Lily will look like an absolute angel in this," Arthur said, holding the dress against me with a proud, beaming smile.

Looking at the dress, I didn't feel joy. I felt a cold, paralyzing terror.

Sure enough, Clara’s face darkened instantly.

She forced a stiff smile. "Why buy her a white dress? It gets dirty so easily. Besides, her skin isn't as fair as mine. It’ll just make her look washed out."

Arthur, completely oblivious to her jealousy, said cheerfully, "No way! Lily has your complexion. She’s fair and beautiful. I remember you used to love white dresses when you were young. Back then..."

"Enough!"

Clara snapped, her voice sharp and screeching. "That was a long time ago! Why bring it up!"

Arthur froze, startled by her sudden outburst. Trying to clear the awkwardness, he chuckled, "Alright, alright, I won't. Lily, go try it on."

Holding the dress, it felt like a hot coal burning my hands.

I wanted to refuse. I wanted to tell Arthur I hated white dresses.

But looking at his expectant, loving eyes, the words clogged in my throat.

"Go on, Lily. Go try it on. Your dad spent a long time picking this out for you."

"Yeah, your dad bought this specifically for you. He didn't even get me anything. Go put it on. Show your dad..."

Clara smiled sweetly, but her eyes were cold as daggers.

I had no choice. I walked into my room with a heavy heart.

I put on the dress and lingered inside for as long as I could before stepping out.

The moment Arthur saw me, his eyes lit up. "Beautiful! So beautiful! I knew it, my daughter is the prettiest girl in the world!"

He pulled out his phone, snapping photos of me non-stop.

Clara stood right behind him. She didn't say a word, just stared at me with murderous eyes.

In that moment, I didn't feel like a girl in a pretty new dress. I felt like a prisoner standing on the scaffold, waiting for the blade to fall.

That night, Arthur went to bed early, exhausted from his trip.

Just as I finished my shower, my bedroom door creaked open.

Clara walked in. In her hand, she held a pair of sharp kitchen scissors.

"Put the dress on," she commanded.

"Mom, it’s so late..."

"I said, put it on!"

With trembling hands, I pulled the white dress back over my body.

Clara looked at me with satisfaction, then raised the scissors.

"Snip—"

A long lock of my dark hair fell onto the pristine white fabric.

She grabbed my hair, cutting it chunk by chunk.

In the mirror, my long, beautiful hair was hacked into an ugly, uneven mess.

Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced myself not to let them fall.

"Fair skin? Like me?"

Clara mocked, whispering harshly in my ear as she cut. "What makes you think you can ever compare to me?"

"You are nothing but a tool I birthed to keep him tied to me. To secure my place!"

"And now you want to wear white dresses like me? You don't deserve it!"

She threw the scissors aside, grabbed my head by the hair, and slammed it hard against the mirror.

"Crash!"

The mirror shattered. Through the web of cracks, I saw my own broken, tear-stained face.