3.
Eighty competition-level math problems.
My daughter scooped herself a bowl of rice, tossed some meat and vegetables on top, and got up in a hurry.
"I'll go correct my mistakes while I eat."
"That way I can save time."
I agreed.
"Your uncle's idea really was a good one. You're finally shaping up."
"Go on, then."
The study had bright lights and clear glass walls, so I could see everything she did in there without missing a thing.
I finished eating, then went to the bathroom to do my skincare routine.
Only then did I have the leisure to go watch her.
On the desk, her bowl of rice had a few bites gone from it and hadn't been touched again.
She was working hard at the problems, and after only a little while her wrist cramped.
She didn't cry out. She lifted her hand to her lips and bit down.
That bite must have taken a lot of force. I could clearly see the teeth marks on her wrist.
It startled me, and I wanted to rush in, but then she went back to normal and kept working.
In the end my hand never pressed down on the door handle.
It was just a couple of bites. It wasn't like her arm had broken.
I cut up some fruit and brought it in.
Hearing the sound, her first reaction was to hide her hand behind her back.
"Mom, Mom, can I not eat this fruit?"
"I'm scared I won't finish the problems in time."
She'd barely said it before she hurriedly took it back.
"No, no, I didn't mean that. I'll finish. I'll do it right now."
"Mom, you made this plan because it's good for me. I'll get to it now."
For some reason, a sour ache welled up in me.
I pulled myself together quickly and set down the fruit.
"This is free from me."
"It won't be added to tonight's problems."
Her eyes were blank. She nodded and bent her head back down.
She really had gotten a lot more obedient.
Two days later came the next round of her treatment.
I got dressed, ready to go with her.
She turned me down.
"Thank you, Mom, but I can handle my own things myself."
"I'll come home tonight and keep working on my tasks."
I paused for a moment and didn't say anything.
Going by herself wasn't out of the question.
She was already an adult.
I took out my phone and transferred her the money.
"I sent a little extra. After the treatment you can go grab a simple bite to eat."
Then I turned around and went shopping with a new friend I'd just made.
But by the time I got home that night, the money I'd transferred out still hadn't shown any notice of being received.
I looked at her, a little puzzled.
"Without the money, how did you go to chemo?"
"Did you not go? How can you care so little about your own health? Did the money I paid for your chemo before just go to waste?"
"You're being this willful. Do you want to go back to that place again……"
