The App That Failed, The Love That Never Was Chapter 04

The App That Failed, The Love That Never Was Chapter 04

I got home at dusk. My parents and Sylvie sat happily eating dinner together.

No one saved me a seat. No one wondered whether I was hungry. I might as well have been a ghost drifting through the halls.

Holding my aching abdomen, I retreated to my bedroom to pack my belongings.

Then I noticed something wrong: my new translation device and matching simultaneous-interpretation headphones were gone. I had worked odd jobs for an entire year to afford them for my upcoming overseas program.

I raced out to the living room, my voice trembling. “Mom! Dad! Has anyone seen my translation device and headphones on my desk?”

Mom glanced over dismissively. “Sylvie’s going on a trip to Italy in three days, so we packed them for her suitcase. Oh, your dad signed you up for something too. Fill out this form.”

I looked down at the paperwork laid on the table.

Digital-Detox Bootcamp.

Participants would be subjected to grueling manual labor and military-style drills. All electronic devices were strictly forbidden. My parents had already signed the liability waiver, authorizing “strict disciplinary conditioning” if I violated camp rules—a sanitized term for physical punishment.

Stunned, my head snapped up. “Why does Sylvie get Italy, while I get sent off to that punishment camp?”

Dad slammed his fork down hard. “Sylvie submitted a booking for Italy first thing this morning! Did you? I went out of my way to arrange summer plans for you, and this is the thanks I get? You come home with an attitude!”

Mom tsked. “Nalani, your dad signed you up because he saw how hard you’d been pushing yourself through your SAT prep. Why can’t you show a little gratitude?”

They never gave me the things I begged for. They dumped things on me I never asked for, then expected me to be thankful for them. It was absurd.

I turned straight toward Sylvie. “Sylvie, hand over my translator and headphones right now.”

Sylvie pouted, feigning innocence. “Nalani, you’re not even going abroad. What difference does it make if I borrow them? Besides, I put in a booking request with Mom and Dad!”

I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Fine. Show me that booking request.”

I reached for her phone.

Dad exploded, grabbed a bowl off the table and hurled it at me. The scalding broth splashed across my skin. I recoiled from the burning pain.

“You never book for anything, yet you’re jealous of your sister?!”

Ignoring the stabbing pain in my incision, I thrust my phone in their faces, the broken app glowing on screen.

“This app has been broken since yesterday. Nothing goes through! How did Sylvie submit hers? How did you two approve it?”

Dad froze for a split second, then roared in fury. “She told us verbally! That counts just as much!”

“When I tell you things verbally, why is that never good enough?” I shot back.

Mom’s open palm cracked hard across my cheek. My head snapped to the side, and my ears rang.

“You think you can scream and cause a scene in this house just because you finished your SATs?!” Mom pointed at me. “Sylvie is younger than you! Can’t the older sister make sacrifices for her?”

I pressed my palm against my throbbing cheek and let out an empty laugh.

When I was little, they preached fairness at every turn. Now they demanded I yield unconditionally to Sylvie.

Every single rule in this family existed solely to benefit her. My needs and my pain were always brushed aside.

Arguing achieved nothing. I bolted into Sylvie’s bedroom, flipped open her suitcase, determined to get my property back.

Dad stormed after me, seized me by the collar, and dragged me back into my own room. “No meals for you these next two days. Stay here and think long and hard about your behavior!”

I crashed onto the floor. Every movement sent agony tearing through my surgery wound. Pain spread all over my body, like I was splitting open.

Outside my closed door, my parents softly comforted Sylvie, telling her not to let my outburst ruin her mood. Listening to them, tears streamed down my face.

That gentle care had never once been mine. Not even in my dreams.

The old window AC unit rattled in my room, blowing warm, stale air.

Countless times I had submitted booking requests for a new AC. My parents kept rejecting them. “She submitted the request first. We don’t have the budget for both. Her needs come first.”

Why should it always be this way? Why were my needs always treated as invisible? Why was my world built on my parents’ self-serving lies?

Gritting my teeth, I pulled my suitcase out from underneath my bed. It was only a 20-inch carry-on—small, yet heavy with the weight of everything I was leaving behind.

I sat in total darkness past midnight, clutching my luggage. Then I walked out of that suffocating prison without looking back.

Inside the taxi heading for the airport, I blocked my parents’ and Sylvie’s numbers.

I opened the family group chat. Sylvie’s contact name had a pink candy emoji next to it. Mine was just my plain name: Nalani Carter.

A bitter smile touched my lips. I tapped “Leave Group” and exhaled deeply.

Streetlights streaked backward past the taxi windows. My own life, though, was finally moving forward. Everything lay ahead of me.