Chapter 8
When we arrived home, my mother immediately took me to the bathroom.
“Quick, take a hot shower and I’ll make you some ginger soup.”
My mother sounded unusually gentle. I nodded and quietly went to shower. She even brought me a fresh change of clothes. As I dried my hair with a towel, I walked into the living room and saw that my father and younger brother were also home.
“Drink the ginger soup before it gets cold,” my mother said, bringing it to me.
I looked at the steaming bowl of ginger soup and smiled faintly. In the end, the one who genuinely cared about me… was still my mom.
“Where’s Lyra?” I asked.
“She’s in the guest room upstairs,” my father said, his voice not too friendly.
“Dad,” I called out, “I want to change rooms. I don’t want to live in the same room as her anymore.”
My father was silent for a moment, then nodded.
My mother looked up in surprise, “You’re finally willing to move out?”
I nodded. “She and I are very different. If we continue living together, we’ll just keep arguing. I think it’s better to live apart.”
“Good, I’ll arrange it for you right away,” my mother said happily, then looked at my father. “Honey, let’s clean up the storage room next to our room and have Michaela move in there.”
“Alright,” my father nodded.
“Go rest in your room for now. I’ll call you when dinner is ready,” my mother said, patting me on the shoulder.
I returned to the room I used to share with Lyra. She wasn’t there.
The moment I entered, I saw all of my things–books, clothes, decorations–thrown all over the floor. I even found several items had been broken or torn. My laptop had a crack across the screen and some of my skincare products had been emptied.
I took a deep breath and suppressed my rising anger. This girl had gone too far.
As I was picking up my scattered belongings, Lyra returned.
She stood at the door, looking at me and scoffed. “Why? Are you finally moving out?”
I didn’t answer.
“You should’ve done it long ago. You don’t belong here anyway,” she said, folding her arms smugly.
I straightened up, looked her in the eye and said, “You’ve gone too far.”
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“So what if I did?” she smirked. “Do you think anyone will really take your side? My mom
still loves me.”
I walked over and stood in front of her. “Let me remind you one last time: this is my house, not yours. You should be the one to leave.”
Lyra’s expression darkened, but before she could say anything, my mom appeared behind
her.
“I knew it was you,” my mother said coldly. “You destroyed your sister’s things. You’ve really disappointed me.”
Lyra’s face paled.
“Come downstairs with me,” my mother said. “You and I need to talk.”
Reluctantly, Lyra followed her downstairs, leaving me alone in the mess.
I sat on the bed, quietly cleaning up. I suddenly felt exhausted–not just physically, but emotionally. It was as if the battles I’d fought today had drained every last drop of my strength.
That night at dinner, the atmosphere was tense. Lyra didn’t say a word and neither did my father. My mother tried to lighten the mood by chatting casually, but the cold war between everyone at the table was palpable.
\\\”
After dinner, my mother took me aside and handed me a small key.
“This is for your new room. It’s all cleaned up now. You can move in whenever you like.”
I looked at her and nodded. “Thank you, Mom.”
She smiled gently. “No matter what happens, you will always be my daughter.”
Those words made my eyes sting. I didn’t say anything, just quietly hugged her.
Later that night, as I lay in my new room, I stared at the ceiling and thought to myself: this
is just the beginning. I won’t let them trample on me anymore. I will take back everything that belongs to me–one piece at a time.
(The End)
