My parents beamed at my sister, their faces melting with adoration.
“Eat more seafood and meat, sweetheart.”
“Don't be like your brother.”
“A boy his age and still a picky eater.”
Mom finished speaking.
Dad nodded along：“No idea where he picked up that habit. There's meat on the table and he won't touch it. Has to pick at the vegetables instead.”
“That's your doing, you know.”
Mom shot him an annoyed look.
One exquisite dish after another arrived at their table.
The old me would never have believed my parents could spend a hundred thousand dollars on a single meal.
All I ever knew was that we were scraping by to pay the mortgage.
Our family only had meat once every few days.
I felt sorry for how hard my parents worked. I worried my little sister wasn't getting enough nutrition.
I wanted to eat it so badly, but I always pretended I didn't like meat.
I did it so Mom, Dad, and my sister could have more.
But it turned out that my sacrifice, my selflessness, was nothing but ‘picky eating’ in their eyes.
I didn't lift my head and confront them. I didn't demand to know why they'd been so cruel to me.
I just swallowed my tears, turned around, and walked out of the private dining room.
I changed out of my uniform, put on my own clothes, and left the hotel.
The moment I stepped outside, the manager at the bakery called me.
“Hey, the cake you ordered is ready.”
“When are you coming to pick it up?”
I hesitated. I almost told her I didn't want it anymore.
But then I thought about it.
I'd worked for that cake. Every hour at the bakery had paid for it.
Why wouldn't I take it?
When I got home carrying the pink cake box, I stood in the doorway.
A bare apartment. Not a single thing of value except the wall full of awards, my awards.
The tears I'd been holding back finally broke free.
For as long as I could remember, my parents told me we were poor.
That I had to make something of myself.
And I hadn't let them down. From the first grade on, I'd ranked first every single year. In middle school and high school, I'd been the top student in the entire state.
Other kids my age had childhoods full of laughter.
I only ever had two things.
Studying.
And part-time jobs.
At ten o'clock that night, my parents and sister came home.
They'd already swapped the expensive suit and the princess dress for their usual shabby clothes. The moment they walked through the door, they saw me sitting there with my head down, eating the cake.
“Where'd you get a cake?”
Mom set her keys down and stared at me, confused.
“Bought it.”
I answered, keeping my voice flat.
I'd originally gotten this cake as a holiday weekend gift for my sister. But she'd just come from a lavish seafood dinner. She certainly didn't need it now.
“How many times have I told you? If you have money, save it for tuition. Don't waste it. Your mother and I work ourselves to the bone every day to pay for your education. Don't disappoint us.”
Dad's expression and tone were sharp with reproach.
“You're being bad, big brother.”
Even my sister was scolding me.
I acted like I hadn't heard a word. I set the fork down and looked up at the three of them standing there together.
I hesitated for a long time.
Then I spoke：“Mom, Dad, I want a tablet. It would help me study and look things up.”
It was the first time in my life I had ever asked them for anything.
And it was for school.
But the moment the word "tablet" left my mouth, something changed.
Both their faces went cold at the exact same time.
Dad strode up to me, his voice cutting：“You want to play video games, is that it?”
Faced with that sharp accusation,
I kept my expression steady and shook my head.
“I need it for research.”
Dad let out a heavy, scornful huff：“You can look things up at the library. What do you need a tablet for?”
“I've told you a thousand times. Video games will ruin you. Don't envy those kids who play games all day. They're throwing their lives away.”
