I replied, “You’re their only son—how could I possibly have a problem with you?”
My father’s face instantly darkened. He glanced at my mother and said, “Control your son. Don’t know who he learned that sarcastic tone from.”
“I’ll have a good talk with him.”
Margaret’s expression tightened as she nodded, then hurriedly dragged me out the door—and the moment we stepped outside, she slapped me across the face.
In front of me, she no longer had to act meek and submissive.
What I never expected was that the first real mother–son conversation we’d had in years would happen like this—and end like this.
“How many times have I told you? Ryan is your father’s and his white moonlight’s child.”
“Why do you have to keep going against him? He’s only two months younger than you—can’t you let him have his way?”
“If you push your father too far, he’ll throw me out!”
“If you won’t think for yourself, can’t you think for me? Can’t you just swallow your pride a little?”
Her incoherent shouts spilled out all her pent-up frustration, as if I were the obstacle preventing her and my father from living happily ever after.
But hadn’t I already given in enough?
When I was in middle school, my father brought Ryan into our home, and my mother accepted it without protest.
Later, Ryan said he couldn’t sleep sharing a room with me—he was used to living alone.
My mother cried and hugged me, asking me to make a little sacrifice.
So I moved into a tiny rented apartment.
In high school, my father said supporting three kids’ education was too much of a financial burden and planned to pull me out of school.
My mother said my grades were mediocre and that the opportunity should go to Ryan and Emily.
I didn’t want her stuck between us, suffering.
So I dropped out.
From then on, I never took a penny from the family. I worked all kinds of part-time jobs.
Whenever I had extra money, I gave it to my parents, or bought gifts for Emily and Ryan.
Every day, I made lunch and dinner.
Year after year.
I tried my best to win their approval, but I was still denied a place in this family.
Hadn’t I sacrificed enough?
I held back my tears, took a deep breath, and said seriously to my mother, “Mom… let’s take Emily and leave together.”
She froze for a moment—then slapped me again, harder this time.
“I just want to live in peace. If you want to go, go by yourself!”
That stinging pain shattered all my illusions.
I should have known long ago—
With or without her love, it’s all the same.
With or without this family, it’s all the same.
I might long for them, but they are selfish to the core.
I said nothing more and turned to leave.
“Ethan…”
She seemed like she wanted to chase after me, but then Ryan stepped out of the hospital room.
She froze in place.
“Auntie,” Ryan said, “Do you think big brother’s really so mad he won’t come back?”
“Don’t worry,” she replied with a sudden smile, her tone warm again. “I know Ethan. He’s probably just gone to get money.”
Hearing that, I clenched my fists. The tears I’d held back for so long finally fell.
Back in my dark, damp apartment, my entire world was a wobbly table, a wire-frame bed, and a few books.
Two mice sat on the edge of the table, gnawing at stale bread rolls.
They had kept me company through countless nights, so I wasn’t afraid at all.
I took the enlistment invitation letter from my drawer and signed my name.
In the years since I’d dropped out, I’d often spent my free time at the library, teaching myself all kinds of subjects.
Just a week ago, after leaving the library one night, I fought off a mugger and saved an old man.
He seemed to be someone of status—he somehow learned all about me and offered me the chance to join the military.
The only condition: I had to pass three selection tests.
