When they reached the intersection, the light turned red, and Mom finally stopped.
She turned around and looked at my sister.
After a long moment, Mom sighed.
"Are you hungry?"
Her voice softened suddenly.
My sister nodded.
"Come on, let's get you something to eat."
Mom took my sister's hand again and led her forward.
They walked into the Pizza Hut on the corner.
Warm golden light, the aroma of food, a thin layer of fog clinging to the windows.
Mom ordered pizza, chicken wings, and a hot chocolate for my sister.
For herself, just a coffee.
My sister ate in small bites, stealing glances at Mom every now and then.
Mom stirred her coffee, her tone gentle but serious. "Don't do that again, okay?"
"Okay," my sister whispered.
"Eat up."
I floated outside the window, my face pressed against the glass.
Steam rose from the pizza, cheese stretching into long golden strands.
The chicken wings were crispy and golden, the hot chocolate piled high with whipped cream and marshmallows.
What did it taste like?
I'd never had any of it.
Mom always said fast food was unhealthy.
Dad said we'd go when my brother's birthday came around.
The scene blurred and shifted.
When it cleared, I was in an unfamiliar courtyard.
Brick houses, red lanterns.
Three or four banquet tables were set up in the middle.
Dad sat at the main table, clinking glasses with a few men around his age.
His face was flushed, his laughter easy.
"Your oldest is really making something of himself!"
"Oh, please—your son's the impressive one!"
My brother sat beside Dad, a new phone in his hands.
The screen was huge, flashing with the glow of a game.
Dad leaned over to look, then patted his shoulder.
"Don't play too much. It's bad for your eyes."
My brother didn't look up. "I know."
But Dad was still smiling.
I drifted closer, peering at the phone.
It was the latest model. Really expensive.
Last week was my birthday. Dad said he'd get me one next time.
Then he sent a set of practice workbooks instead.
I touched my wrist.
There was nothing there anymore, but I still remembered the feel of my phone watch.
"My brother's phone looks so clunky. Mine was way more convenient."
Still, no one could hear me.
As the sky darkened, my brother fell asleep beside Dad, phone still glowing in his hands.
My sister dozed off against Mom's shoulder.
It wasn't until the taxi driver started chatting with Mom about having a second child.
Mom paused, caught off guard.
And finally remembered me—still sick at home.
She pulled out her phone and called Dad.
The phone rang for a long time before he picked up.
"Hello? Who's this?"
Mom opened her mouth, but the words that came out weren't the ones she'd planned.
"You've been drinking again?"
"Huh?" Dad sounded confused for a second, then laughed.
"What, we've been divorced for years and you're still keeping tabs on whether I drink?"
"Can you be serious for once? I need to ask you something."
"How am I not serious? You're the one calling late at night just to check up on me."
"I'm not checking up on you! I wanted to ask—"
"Ask what? How I'm doing? Don't worry, I'm a lot happier than when I was with you."
Mom's voice shot up. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?!"
"You know exactly what it means."
And just like that, they were fighting.
Out of nowhere, dragging up years of buried grievances.
Mom's eyes glistened with furious tears. She hung up and sat there, seething in silence.
I floated to her side, wanting to comfort her.
My sister woke up, rubbing her eyes as she sat up. "Mom? What's wrong?"
