Her Three Toasts, My Final Goodbye

I came across a video my mom posted of her toasting herself, and it went viral.

I laughed at how trendy she thought she was at her age and clicked to watch.

“First glass, to me, for raising two daughters on my own.”

“Second glass, to my baby girl, who just got into her dream university this year.”

“Third glass, to my eldest daughter…”

I waited with anticipation, but then she added,

“Third glass, to my eldest daughter, who I never gave up on, despite her selfishness, bad temper, stinginess, and overall shameful behavior.”

The smile on my face froze. I immediately opened my chat with my boss, Mr. Johnson.

“You mentioned an overseas project before. I’m willing to go.”

“Sophia Lane, I’m glad you agreed, but what about your mother and sister?”

His reply came instantly.

I had been a project manager at the company for a few years and had closed quite a few big deals. Mr. Johnson valued me highly and wanted me to take a management role in a newly developed field in the United States.

It was a rare opportunity, and I happily went home to share the news with my mom and my sister.

But my mom’s smile dropped, and her voice grew sharp.

“You’re going abroad?”

“Emily just got into college, and you can’t wait to fly away?”

“I see, you’re planning to never come back. No need to care for me when I’m old, no need to take care of your sister!”

After saying this, she sat silently in the living room, as if I had committed some unforgivable crime.

I couldn’t stand seeing the mom who raised us all alone look so disappointed, so I turned down Mr. Johnson’s offer.

That very night, I booked tickets and made detailed travel plans to take them on a trip.

Only then did my mom brighten up, smiling again.

“That’s more like it! As the older sister, you should make money for the family and take your sister out to have fun!”

“If you move far away, how will you take care of me when I get sick? You won’t even make it back!”

With those words—“That’s more like it”—she chained me to her side.

When Mr. Johnson saw he couldn’t persuade me, he found someone else.

Luckily, before he had settled on another candidate, I came across that video.

“Mr. Johnson, I’ll go.” I didn’t hesitate.

He was delighted, and soon the paperwork for my relocation to the U.S. was signed.

With a strange mix of unease and defiance, I nervously scrolled down to the comments section.

“The younger daughter is so sensible! My older one also stopped listening after I had a second.”

“Good thing this mom has two kids. If it was just the eldest, she’d be miserable.”

“This eldest daughter is useless. Where does she work? Not even filial to her mom—you should go make trouble at her workplace!”

Expressionless, I watched as my mom enthusiastically replied to these comments criticizing me.

“Yes, the elder daughter isn’t as considerate as the younger one.”

“Ah, she’s so hot-tempered. Can’t argue with her.”

And then, under the videos about our upcoming trip and the new furniture at home, she responded again,

“My baby girl really knows how to care for me.”

But it was me who paid for the trip, stayed up late making travel plans.

It was me who used my salary every month to replace the furniture.

It was me who took on all the household chores.

Yet she happily went along with the assumptions of strangers, giving all the credit to Emily.

And she let strangers online insult me endlessly.

I gave a bitter laugh.

They say never empathize with parents, because they’ll never empathize with their children.

Now, I realized how true that was.

No matter how obedient and considerate I was, no matter how much I catered to my mom—

She would always take it for granted, seeing only what she wanted to see.

If that’s the case,

Then I’d simply become the daughter she already believed me to be.

As my mom hummed a tune and strolled back with the neighbor lady, I was in the middle of refunding our tickets.