I Took The Same Exam, They Only Celebrated Her Chapter 02

I Took The Same Exam, They Only Celebrated Her Chapter 02

The house was quiet. A bowl of cup noodles sat on the coffee table with a note beside it: [Made you some. Don’t forget to eat.]

It was Asher Collins’ handwriting.

Maybe I’d been starved for kindness so long, but a simple bowl of noodles actually sent a surge of warmth welling up in my chest.

Back then, when my parents took Liam and Rory out to eat, I’d just have bread to fill my stomach.

At first, Mom would ask what I wanted and say she’d bring it back. But every time, I’d eagerly take the bag from her hands, only to find nothing but clothes and shoes inside.

“Mom, where’s my food?”

She’d look surprised. “It’s this late—you haven’t eaten? We all thought you already had.”

I opened the lid. The noodles had been sitting too long and were already soft and soggy.

After one bite, something felt off. I spit it out—there were crushed peanuts mixed in.

Everyone knew I was deathly allergic to peanuts. Why would Asher put peanuts in my noodles?

My body’s reaction hit faster than I’d ever expected. By the time he picked up, I was already covered in hives, itching like crazy.

“Vivi? What’s wrong?”

“Asher, why did you put peanuts in the noodles? Don’t you know I’m allergic?”

He paused. “Of course I know. I would never do that.”

I was about to ask who did, when Rory grabbed the phone, her voice dripping with irritation. “Vivi Hayes, you’re faking it again!”

“Every time Mom and Dad take me out, you call and make them come back. When you were sick, they stayed with you—I never called them back like that.”

“I’m not faking,” I forced out, fighting the maddening itch. “I actually ate peanuts. I’m having a reaction.”

“Stop making excuses. You could see the peanuts in there. Or did you do it on purpose just to ruin my celebration dinner?”

“Asher, I told you not to be so nice to her.”

“See? Now she’s turned it around, accusing you of trying to make her sick.”

He took the phone back, his voice suddenly cold. “I regret it. Should’ve just thrown it out. Better to waste food than deal with this.”

The call ended.

That’s when it hit me—the noodles were never meant for me. He’d just made them when Rory invited him out. Instead of tossing them, he gave them to me.

I sat on the couch in a daze and texted Mom: [Mom, I’m having an allergic reaction. Please, can you take me to the hospital?]

Afraid she wouldn’t believe me, I snapped a photo of my hives and sent it.

Half a minute later, she replied: [Vivi Hayes, are you seriously using AI-generated images to trick your mother now?]

Panicked, I frantically tried video calling. She hung up. I texted again, begging for money to go to the ER myself.

A red exclamation mark. Message Failed to Send.

Dad’s number—blocked. Liam’s too.

They’d all blocked me, without a single word to each other. So afraid I’d ruin Rory’s dinner, they cut me off without a second thought.

My arms fell limp at my sides.

As tears streamed down my face, a dark thought crossed my mind: If I just died right here, would they finally regret it?