When My Parents Charged Me by the Minute for Their Love I Left Chapter 04

When My Parents Charged Me by the Minute for Their Love I Left Chapter 04

The corridor went quiet for a moment when I returned to school.

“That’s her. She won’t even acknowledge her own parents.”

“She paid strangers to attend all her parent-teacher conferences.”

Someone brushed past my shoulder and gave a quiet laugh.

“Heartless.”

I kept my head down and held the cassette recorder more tightly against my chest.

When I reached my desk, my textbook was lying open. Someone had scrawled several words across the

cover in black marker.

[UNGRATEFUL FRAUD]

The ink had already soaked through the paper.

I tried an eraser, but the words wouldn’t come off. Then I scraped at them with my fingernails until the paper

began to fray.

Someone in the back row laughed.

“Stop trying to rub it out. It’s not wrong. What good are good grades if she can’t even respect her own

parents?”

My hand went still.

My fingertips were stained black with ink.

Before the first lesson had even begun, Ms Anderson called me into her office.

An official notice lay on her desk.

“The school has decided to withdraw your scholarship nomination.”

I stood there for a long time, the feeling slowly draining from my legs.

“Why?”

She lowered her head.

“Your parents are still opposing the application, and the guardian consent documents haven’t been

completed. The school doesn’t want to take on the legal risk.”

The office door wasn’t fully closed.

People outside soon overheard us.

“Her nomination was withdrawn? Serves her right.”

“Someone like her would only embarrass the university anyway.”

I stared at the school stamp at the bottom of the notice until my vision blurred.

For three years, I had barely gone to bed before midnight.

Once, during an academic competition, I had sat every exam despite running a high fever, taking only a short

break before carrying on.

The day after Grandma’s memorial service, I had gone in and sat my midterms as usual.

I had always believed that if I became just a little better, I might eventually earn something in return.

But in the end, being called “ungrateful” was enough to blot out everything I had worked for.

I lowered my head and folded the notice.

The edge of the paper nicked my finger.

I pressed my thumb firmly over the small cut.

Ms Anderson took my hand.

“Do you want to appeal again?”

Her eyes were red, and my throat tightened.

After a long silence, I shook my head.

“Ms Anderson, I’m a bit tired.”

That day, I stayed in the classroom until it was dark outside.

It was long past dismissal before I realised everyone else had gone.

When I returned to the apartment that evening, the living room was empty.

A half-eaten piece of cake Ashley had left behind sat on the dining table. Mom had stuck a note to the

refrigerator.

[Don’t wait up for us. We’re going to Ashley’s celebration dinner and will be home late.]

No one asked what had happened with my scholarship nomination.

No one asked whether the cassette recorder had been repaired.

I stood there for a long time before going back to my room and opening the wardrobe.

There was the watch I had received when I started high school, the diamond necklace from my fifteenth birthday, the designer handbag from my sixteenth, and a pair of high heels I had never worn.

Every one of them had cost a fortune.

But Mom and Dad hadn’t been there when any of them arrived.

Only their assistant had sent the same formal message each time.

[Mr and Mrs Parker are occupied with work. They wish Miss Madison a happy birthday.]

I had never been able to bring myself to unwrap the gifts.

Some part of me had always believed that if I kept them untouched a little longer, the love that had never really existed might last a little longer too.

The next day, I took everything to a pawnshop.

The clerk appraised each item, then looked up at me.

“Are you sure you want to sell all of it?”

“I’m sure.”

“Has something happened at home?”

I looked at the things behind the glass. My lips moved a few times before any words came out.

“I don’t have a home anymore.”

Once the transaction was complete, I sat outside the bank and submitted applications to overseas

universities one after another.

A few days later, an acceptance email appeared on my phone.

I read it three times.

I didn’t smile. I only pressed the phone to my chest and slowly bent forward as tears fell onto my shoes.

So there was still somewhere in the world willing to accept me.

I booked the earliest flight I could.

My luggage held only my documents, a few changes of clothes, and a photograph of Grandma.

I didn’t keep a single thing my parents had given me.

Before I left, I placed the family-time tracking card on the dining table and weighed it down with a stack of pawnshop receipts.

Twelve years’ worth of gifts had covered my tuition, airfare, and first semester of accommodation.

When boarding began, Mom finally called.

My screen lit up for a long time.

I held the phone in my hand, my palm slick with sweat.

For one brief moment, I still wanted to answer.

I wanted to hear her ask just once, “Where are you?”

Then the ringing stopped.

She didn’t call again.

I lowered my head, switched off my phone, and pulled my suitcase through the boarding gate.

No one behind me called my name.