Chapter 3

"Honey! Don't save anything for Joy!"

"A bad kid who ignores her parents' texts doesn't deserve pizza!"

Mom snatched the leftover box from Dad's hands and tossed it straight into the trash can.

Outside, the sky had completely darkened. Grandma had to head home.

She slipped on her coat, pleading with my parents one last time.

"She's just a child. Go downstairs and bring her home soon. Don't be a burden to the neighbors."

"When Joy comes back, don't yell at her anymore. I know deep down she didn't mean to cause trouble."

Hearing Grandma's words, a fresh wave of tears welled up in my eyes.

Grandma believed me!

I really wasn't a mean, spiteful kid who bullied people.

But now Mom and Dad believed I was, and they didn't love me anymore.

At that thought, the ache in my chest flared up again.

Mom fired off several more messages on Snapchat to my smartwatch.

After waiting a few minutes without a reply, she kicked the trash can over in a rage.

"That wretched child didn't even reply with a single word!"

"She's really trying to cut ties with us, isn't she?!"

I immediately drifted over in front of Mom.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't ignore you on purpose."

"My watch and I are frozen stiff in the freezer. I can't reply to you."

"I'm sorry, Mom... Please forgive me, okay?"

No matter how desperately I apologized, Mom couldn't hear a sound.

Dad was sitting at the coffee table, helping Cecelia with a school craft project.

"Since she doesn't want to come home, let her stay at Lily's!"

"Let's see how long she can keep up this stubborn act!"

Dad was always busy with work. Every craft project for school had been done by me alone.

I had always dreamed of Dad sitting down to help me with a project just once. But a dream I never achieved in life was now being handed to Cecelia effortlessly.

Dad gently reminded her to be careful with the scissors and patiently arranged the tools for her.

My tiny spirit sat down beside Dad, pretending he was teaching me how to make the craft, too.

Yet Dad's eyes passed right through me, looking only at Cecelia with warm affection.

He didn't spare me a single glance.

Cecelia suddenly grabbed Dad's hand. Her eyes welled with tears as she asked timidly:

"Mr. Miller, can I call you Dad?"

Seeing Dad hesitate, Cecelia put on an even more pitiful expression.

"Ever since my dad passed away, I've missed him so much. I can't sleep at night."

"My dad was your closest friend in the unit. Could you please just answer to 'Dad' for him once?"

"Dad!"

This time, Dad didn't hesitate. He pulled Cecelia into a warm embrace.

"Yes! Daddy's right here, sweetheart!"

That scene felt like a dagger twisting in my heart.

"I'm right here, Dad! I'm your real daughter, Dad!"

"Dad, don't you want me anymore?"

I clawed frantically at them, trying to pull them apart.

It was completely useless.

Dad comforted her for a long time, softly telling her:

"From now on, you're my second daughter. Whenever you want to come home, this is your home."

The pain in my chest choked the air out of me.

Dad, didn't you always say I was your one and only precious treasure?

I felt no different from the stray cats and dogs abandoned out on the streets.

Later that night, seeing that I still hadn't replied, Mom locked the deadbolt on the front door.

"I really spoiled that brat rotten!"

"Let her stay out there forever if she wants!"

Cecelia brought Mom a mug of tea.

"Mrs. Miller, please don't be mad. I made you some tea."

Touched by her gesture, Mom took Cecelia's small hands into hers.

"You're such a good, thoughtful girl, Cecelia."

"If only you were my real daughter. Let that wretched brat die out there on the streets! I hope she never comes back!"

Mom, your wish came true.

I really am dead. But I didn't die out on the streets. I died right here at home.

Cecelia slipped into my favorite pajamas, lay down on my little bed, and fell soundly asleep in Mom's arms.

Later, when Mom thought she was asleep and went back to the master bedroom, Cecelia jumped up.

She put on her slippers and walked straight into the pantry.

Standing in front of the chest freezer, Cecelia sneered into the darkness:

"Joy Miller, are you completely dead yet?"