4: 4
I stopped walking.
After all these years, I actually thought she'd finally remembered my birthday.
Then her next words dropped me straight into ice.
"Your sister wants to dance at a party, so you can throw yourself a birthday ball."
"Invite plenty of those male classmates of yours, especially the good-looking ones, to dance with your sister."
So it was still about my sister after all.
I didn't say a word. I turned and left.
Behind me came her disgruntled mutter: "What kind of attitude is that?"
I found the cheapest little motel near the college town and moved in.
The room was tiny, just a bed and a desk.
But it had air conditioning, clean sheets, and a quiet that belonged only to me.
I threw myself into preparing my paperwork to go abroad.
The company sending me overseas thought highly of me, and advanced me a signing bonus.
The first thing I did was pay off all three credit cards, then call right away and cancel every one of them.
In the middle of all that, my college roommate suddenly sent me a link.
"Vicky, have you lost it? What are you doing on the school confession board?"
I opened the link. It was one of my ID photos.
Underneath was a paragraph too vile to look at.
It said my birthday was coming up, that I was lonely and starved for company, so I was holding a special birthday party.
Inviting every good-looking guy in the school to come.
And anyone who showed up would have a chance to get close to me.
Shaking with rage, I called my father.
"What is it you people actually want!"
On the other end, his voice was full of righteous nerve. "Your sister wants to meet a few upperclassmen. You wouldn't even help with a small wish like that, so we had to do it ourselves."
"Besides, look how old you are and you still don't have a boyfriend. We're helping you. No need to thank us."
Helping me?
These were the same people who, back when I'd just started my freshman year, stormed into my classroom.
In front of my whole class and the teacher, they pointed at my face and cursed me out.
"You're here to study, not to be some socialite!"
"All day texting boys, and not looking after your sister at all."
After that, for all four years of college, not one boy dared come near me.
Even for group projects, the guys would rather fail than partner with me.
And now they'd done it again, nailing me to the pillory the same way.
There was a moment of silence on the line, then my father's voice rose into an even more impatient roar.
"Why bring up the past! Aren't we making it up to you now? You ungrateful girl!"
The call cut off.
Tears in my eyes, hands trembling, I contacted the confession board's admin, deleted the post, and put up a statement to clear it up.
But it was useless.
The messages tagging me in the class group chat kept flashing, and my inbox filled with classmates asking, some curious, some full of contempt.
Quietly, I left every group chat.
This city where I'd lived for more than twenty years no longer held a single thing worth staying for.
The day I left finally came.
I stood in line at the airport check-in counter, dragging my suitcase.
I turned my head, and ran straight into my parents.
"We've been waiting a long time for you."
