Chapter 1

The day Mom's 17th love letter is listed on eBay, Dad, who is usually calm and easygoing, completely loses his temper.

He calls Mom three times in a row.

"I just gave you ten thousand dollars for the last love letter. How have you already spent it all?

"How many times do I have to repeat myself? Wendy just came back from ten years in the future. She's emotionally unstable. If something happens to her because of all this nonsense, I'm going to hold you accountable!"

As Dad rages over the phone, I hold up my fingers and do the math.

What is he talking about? The love letters are only 200 dollars each.

Mom takes me out for hamburgers every time she gets the money. But this time, she's sleeping too soundly. No matter how hard I try, I just can't wake her up.

"I'm hungry, Dad. Can you take me out for some hamburgers?"

"Did your mom put you up to this?" Dad asks, sounding slightly exasperated. "She's doing everything she can to get my attention."

A moment later, his voice softens. "Stella, can you show me your mother's love letters? If you do, I'll take you out for hamburgers."

Chapter 1

Inside the bustling burger place, my dad, Jeremy Fisher, frowned as he stared at the 17 love letters that were neatly arranged in front of him.

The look in his eyes felt unfamiliar. It looked nothing like the tender expression Mom always wore when she stared at those letters.

A few seconds later, Dad sighed and gently patted my head. "Once Wendy feels better, I'll pick both of you up and bring you home. Wendy is easy to get along with. She's nothing like your mom, who only knows how to threaten me with these love letters."

My mom's name was Jillian Clinton. She once told me that Wendy Sutton was her best friend from college.

Feeling confused, I'd asked, "Do I have to share my husband with my best friend? In that case, I don't want a best friend!"

Mom hadn't responded, but she'd suddenly looked like she was about to cry.

On Mom's birthday, Wendy had flipped the cake over with tears in her eyes. Gripping Dad's hand, she cried, "Please send me away, Jeremy. I've seen what happens ten years from now. Jillian went mad! She killed Colin and me with her own hands!"

For the rest of the day, Dad had stayed silent. He stood alone by the window, smoking one cigarette after another.

When the morning came, Mom and I were sent away instead.

"Try to be more understanding, Jillian. Once Wendy's feeling better, I'll bring the both of you back home," Dad had said.

Mom hadn't asked him for anything. The only things she had taken with her were the love letters Dad had written to her. She took all 17 of them—not a single one was left behind.

When the lightbulb in our new home broke, she sold one of the letters to Dad to pay for a replacement. When I needed a costume for my school play, she sold him another one. When winter came, and we needed a new quilt, she sold another.

The love letters were neatly stacked inside a drawer. Within a year, we had to use 16 of them to keep our shabby little apartment from falling apart.

I snapped back to reality and looked at Dad. With a small smile, I said, "It's okay, Dad. Mom said that living on our own is actually pretty nice. She doesn't want to go back anymore."

Dad froze for a moment. Then, he let out a cold scoff. "Your mother really went to great lengths to put that idea in your head."

Just then, his assistant, Thomas, leaned over to him and whispered, "Ms. Sutton found out about the love letters, Mr. Fisher. She's lost control of her emotions and is threatening to end her own life."

Dad's expression instantly darkened. The next moment, he tore all 17 of Mom's love letters into pieces.

"Tell Wendy to stop crying. The letters are gone for good," he declared coldly.

Tears streamed down my face as I frantically rushed forward to stop him.

"Don't tear them up! These mean a lot to Mom!" I pleaded. "She's been telling me these stories since I was little!"

Dad caressed my cheek, his face completely blank. "They're nothing more than old memories. They don't mean anything anymore."

He turned to Thomas and said, "Take Stella home, Thomas. I'm going to check on Wendy."

I watched him walk away. Then, I crouched down and carefully picked up the torn pieces of paper. As I placed every fragment into my bag, I couldn't stop myself from crying.

These letters meant everything to Mom. I couldn't leave a single piece behind.

Chapter 2

When I returned home, the apartment was dark and quiet.

I had saved half a hamburger for my mom. After placing it in her hand, I nuzzled my head against her cheek and said, "Here, Mom. You'll feel better once you've had something to eat."

Whenever I got upset, Mom would take me to a restaurant to get hamburgers. My worries would always disappear immediately after I ate.

But to my dismay, Mom didn't eat the burger. She didn't even say anything to me.

Feeling upset, I instantly began to cry. "Are you mad at me, Mom? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought the letters to the restaurant. I'll fix it. Please don't be mad."

I turned on the table lamp and dumped all of the tiny paper scraps onto the table. Armed with nothing but a bottle of glue, I spent the entire night piecing the letters back together.

My hands were covered in paper cuts, but I refused to stop. As I worked, the torn pieces of paper became stained with drops of blood.

At dawn, I excitedly shook Mom's shoulders and exclaimed, "I'm done, Mom! Can you wake up and take a look at me now?"

Three seconds passed, and Mom still didn't move. The hamburger I had brought home the day before had completely gone cold.

My gaze drifted to the dead potted flower sitting on the windowsill.

I felt a sudden ache in my chest. Dad had planted that flower for Mom himself.

The two of them used to water and fertilize it together every single day. The plant had always produced strong, healthy flower buds, but the day after Mom moved out, Wendy threw a fit and hurled it downstairs.

The flowerpot shattered as it hit the ground, and the broken pieces even ended up injuring Mom's hand.

Refusing to give up on the plant, Mom brought it home and replanted it. She watered and fertilized it all over again, but no matter how much she cared for it, it still drooped a little more every day.

Then, on the day Mom fell asleep, it withered completely.

"You have to wake up after I save the flower, okay, Mom?" I coaxed.

I brought the plant to the florist next to our apartment building and begged the owner to help me save it. After I got there, the lady sighed and gently rubbed my head.

"The roots are dead. I'm afraid the plant can't be saved anymore," she said regrettably. "Tell your mom to buy a new one, Stella. There's no point in holding on to this one."

After a pause, she added, "Back then, your dad went all over Alister City to look for this plant so he could make your mom happy. Everyone in the neighborhood was incredibly jealous of her!"

I didn't respond and simply carried the flowerpot back to the apartment.

The sky was incredibly gloomy on my way home.

Once I got back, I put the dead plant back on the balcony and glanced at Mom. Afterward, I pulled the entire plant out of the soil and tossed it into the trash. I then replaced it with the building-block flower that Mom and Dad had gotten me for my birthday.

Tears streamed down my face as I pulled on my mom's hand.

"Look, Mom. The new flower I planted will never wither. I'm hungry. Are you hungry? Can we go get hamburgers together?" I cried.

I added, "I don't want to go with Dad. Can we please go together instead?"

Outside of our window, fireworks exploded in the sky. Shortly after, I heard the voices of our neighbors.

"What a terrible man. He's ignoring his own wife and daughter while he celebrates another kid's birthday."

"I heard these fireworks cost 30 thousand dollars! Jeremy really outdid himself."

I hurried over to the window and pulled the curtains shut. If Mom saw the fireworks, she'd become upset again.

Dad used to set off fireworks for her too. In the past, he'd light up the sky for her all night long. On top of that, he'd also buy her beautiful dresses that made her the belle of the ball.

Pouting, I turned toward Mom and said, "It's okay, Mom. If Dad won't set off fireworks for you, I'll do it when I grow up."

Moments later, I added, "I have a parent-teacher meeting tomorrow, Mom. Don't be late, okay?"

Chapter 3

Mom never showed up to my parent-teacher meeting.

"It's obvious that your mom doesn't like you!" Wendy's son, Colin Sutton, spat. "How could she let you wear such dirty clothes to an event like this?"

Standing before me with a smug smile, he added, "You're a slob, Stella Fisher!"

I looked down at the clothes I had been wearing for the last three days. After Mom fell asleep, these were the cleanest clothes that I could find in our apartment.

"Jeremy is my dad today. He's attending the parent-teacher meeting with me. He definitely doesn't want to see you or your mom! The two of you should just leave!" Colin barked.

My heart sank. Unable to suppress my anger, I gave Colin a shove, and he fell to the floor.

"That's not true!" I yelled.

Our argument immediately escalated into a fight, and our cries instantly drew everyone's attention. Even though my stomach hurt terribly after he kicked me, I still held onto his hair tightly and refused to let go.

Then, a familiar voice rang out from the doorway.

"Stella Fisher! What are you doing?"

Dad was incredibly strong. He pushed me away from Colin, and before I knew it, I had already tumbled to the floor.

My palms scraped against the tile and started to bleed.

I got to my feet and stared at my dad in a daze. He used to be kind and gentle with me, and he would always fuss over the tiniest cuts and scrapes on my body.

"Is this how your mother taught you to behave?" he snapped.

Tears streamed down my face as I stared at him with a frown. Everything had changed since he met Wendy.

One of the teachers hurried over to calm things down. "Kids can be impulsive when they get upset. Besides, this wasn't entirely Stella's fault. You don't need to be so hard on her."

Dad scoffed before crouching down to carefully examine Colin's injuries.

"There's no need to defend her," he told the teacher. "I know her very well. She's just like her mother. She was born with a nasty temper."

I tilted my head and glanced at him. I couldn't help but recall the things he wrote in Mom's love letters.

In the past, he claimed that Mom was the kindest and most gentle woman in all of Alister City. He said that marrying her was the luckiest thing that had ever happened to him.

Tears silently rolled down my face.

Did grown-ups lie too?

Even when the parent-teacher meeting was about to begin, Mom still hadn't shown up at my classroom door. Eventually, Dad stared at the empty seat next to me and appeared confused.

"Mom has been asleep for days now. Can you call her and ask her to come to the parent-teacher meeting?" I asked.

His expression turned grim as he hurriedly pulled out his phone. Just as he was about to make the call, his phone started to ring. Seconds later, Wendy's voice filled the air.

"Doesn't Stella have a parent-teacher meeting today? Why is Jillian outside shopping? Do you want me to ask her to head over? Poor Stella is all alone. I feel bad for her," she said.

Then, she added, "I can't believe this. Jillian will do anything just to get your attention."

"That won't be necessary," Dad replied in a cold voice. "These attention-seeking stunts of hers are becoming increasingly unreasonable."

"You can have the bracelet I bought for her. I should teach her a lesson after the amount of trouble she's caused."

I stood frozen in place. I didn't tell him that Mom didn't care about his gifts anymore. In fact, she'd already thrown her engagement ring into the trash.

After hanging up the phone, he looked me up and down coldly.

"You must've spent a lot of time rehearsing this little performance, Stella. Go home and tell your mother to stop wasting her time on these pointless tricks. Everything she's doing is only making me hate her more."

Chapter 4

I couldn't understand what Dad meant, but I instinctively teared up.

Once the parent-teacher meeting was over, I stepped in front of him and blocked his way.

"Mom has been sleeping for a really long time, Dad. Can you take her to the hospital?" I asked. "She'll wake up if the doctor gives her some medicine. I promise I won't ask for those useless toys anymore."

Dad didn't respond and let out a sigh.

Before he could say anything, Colin snapped, "No! He's taking me to the amusement park today! You're just like your mom! All you guys do is lie! Nobody likes either of you!"

My fingernails dug into the palm of my hands as I glanced at Dad with tear-filled eyes.

He reached out to pat my head. "Maybe some other time."

Mom and I had lost count of how many times we'd heard that response.

When Dad took Wendy and Colin on a winter trip overseas, he told us our trip could wait until some other time. When he treated them to fancy dinners, our plans were also pushed off to some other time. When it came to bringing us back to the Fisher residence, he still told us he'd do it some other time.

I didn't understand what "some other time" meant. So I stepped in front of him and asked, "Does 'some other time' mean never?"

I couldn't read his expression. But that day, he still drove me back to our old apartment building himself.

"Stella, if you promise not to help your mother lie from now on, I can like the two of you again. Next year, on your birthday, I'll bring you two back to the Fisher residence."

I shook my head. "I didn't lie. Mom said it's not good to tell lies."

I added, "Mom's just asleep. I broke open my piggy bank, but there were only five dollars inside. The doctor said that it wasn't enough to buy medicine. That's what I thought of selling the love letter to you. You still haven't given me my 200 dollars, Dad!"

Dad's expression grew darker with each passing comment.

"Enough, Stella Fisher!" he snapped. "If you keep spewing nonsense, I'll ship you off to a boarding school! Maybe that'll straighten both you and your mother out!"

Frightened by his threats, I fell silent. I was picking on my fingers so much that I had nearly broken skin.

Moments later, I saw a cloud of thick black smoke rising into the sky.

The moment I got out of the car, I froze. The shabby little apartment Mom had patched up by selling her love letters was being swallowed by flames.

"What are you standing there for? Call the fire department!" someone screamed.

Panic flashed across Dad's face as he hurriedly tried to dial Mom's number. He called her three times in a row, but she never answered a single call.

Standing before the roaring flames, Dad called Wendy with a grim expression on his face.

"Didn't you say you saw Jillian earlier? Tell her to go to the Fisher residence immediately!" he screamed into the phone.

I felt my heart drop.

Oh, I see. He was looking for Mom.

Smiling, I broke free from his hold and raced up the stairs toward the second floor. The flames singed my hair, but I pushed past the searing heat and kept making my way up.

Dad immediately started to panic. His voice turned hoarse as he shouted, "Stella Fisher! What are you trying to do? Get down here!"

I didn't turn around. I was acting as though I couldn't hear him at all.

When I didn't listen to him, he desperately tried to grab me and lead me back downstairs to safety.

"Cut it out, Stella. Stop fooling around and come back downstairs. If you listen to me, I'll bring you and your mother back to the Fisher residence. How does that sound?"

The door was forced open with a loud bang.

Mom was still lying motionlessly on the couch. I couldn't believe how unbothered she was.

"Look! Mom's right there. I wasn't lying. She's really asleep!" I turned to look at my dad. "Dad? Why are you crying?"