The Neglected Girl Chosen by the Moon Goddess Chapter 10

The Neglected Girl Chosen by the Moon Goddess Chapter 10

I smiled.

“But that day I found out I almost killed her. No wonder she hated me so much. It all makes sense now.”

My voice was calm-so calm that I was mercilessly passing judgment on myself.

Lucas’s voice cracked with pain. “Elara, don’t think that way. You’re family. No one hates you.”

He paused, then forced the words out like broken glass. “I did care about you. When you were little, I held you, fed you, and even used my allowance to buy you toys. But after Lily was born, Mom and Dad always talked about the youngest. So I got used to following along. I’m sorry, Elara. I forgot you needed love too.”

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t need apologies that came this late.

Before I hung up, Dad’s voice came through, uncertain.

“Elara…”

Maybe it was my imagination, but his voice sounded older. Tired. Almost pleading.

“Will you come back? How can you stand being alone out there?”

I laughed coldly. “What would I come back for?”

He went quiet. Then he said quickly, “Find a job nearby. It’s safer. You’d be close to family.”

I shook my head and said no.

“Why?” He still didn’t understand.

I laughed again. “To wash dishes forever? Do endless chores? Watch you always favor Lily and Lucas?”

He had nothing to say.

“Dad…” My voice cracked.

“Why did you never take me on any trips? I wanted to see Europe too.”

Dad’s breathing quickened. He stammered, but nothing came out.

He’d always known how biased Mom was. He let it happen. He even encouraged it.

He thought I’d never speak up-so we could all pretend.

He never expected that this quiet, invisible second daughter was also human. With feelings. Real enough to expose his selfishness.

“I’m sorry, Elara.” He started crying.

I hung up.

Ethan pulled me into his arms and took some of the weight.

After that day, I blocked them all.

Lily sent a long letter once-thousands of words. She apologized, said she understood now. She’d seen my struggles-the jobs, the chores, Mom’s favoritism. She admitted she was the one who’d told Mom not to tell

me about the house so she could pick her room first.

She admitted a lot. She meant it.

But so what?

Words couldn’t pierce twenty-four years of hurt.

They only proved that my emotions were real, not some delusion created by the dull and narrow-minded

person they thought I was.

Lucas kept making new accounts to message me. I blocked them all.

Finally, he sent a message so small it hurt. “I’m not asking you to reply. Just let us know you’re alive. Please.”

I never answered.