When My Parents Charged Me by the Minute for Their Love I Left Chapter 02

When My Parents Charged Me by the Minute for Their Love I Left Chapter 02

I had barely opened the door when Dad grabbed my wrist.

“Stop right there.”

He was holding my application form.

“You’re planning to go to university two thousand kilometers away on your own, and you didn’t say a word to us. Do you even think of us as your parents anymore?”

Mom’s expression darkened as well.

“We give you three hours, and you say it isn’t enough. Now we’re offering you more time, and you’re still acting like this.”

Dad immediately posted about it in the family group chat.

[Our daughter is nearly grown, and now she treats her parents like strangers. We have completely failed in raising her.]

Aunt Debbie said I was nearly an adult and had started to think no one could tell me what to do.

Uncle Kevin said good grades meant nothing if I didn’t know how to be grateful.

Finally, Uncle Gary sent a message.

[A child raised by her grandmother was bound to grow up with no respect for her parents. Cold and difficult, just as you’d expect.]

My ears started ringing.

I lunged for Dad’s phone.

“Don’t talk about Grandma! You can criticize me all you want, but don’t drag her into this!”

Gary’s mocking laugh came through the voice message.

“See? That’s what happens when an older relative spoils a child too much…”

I reached for the phone.

Dad raised it out of my reach and suddenly shoved me away.

My lower back struck the cabinet, and the application form fell to the floor.

“The way you’re behaving now is exactly what comes from your grandmother spoiling you.”

Then Mom hit me across the face.

My head jerked to one side, and all I could hear was a piercing ringing.

I covered my burning cheek as tears slowly rolled down my face, but I still pointed at Ashley.

“Then why does she get to?”

“She wants to go to an amusement park, and you spend the entire day with her.”

“She has a parent-teacher conference, and you cancel your meetings to go. What about me?”

“Even a one-minute hug gets counted against my three-hour limit!”

Dad’s voice turned harsh.

“Her situation isn’t the same as yours.”

“How is it different?”

For the first time, I shouted at him.

“What gives you the right to treat me like this? Have you ever actually been there for me?”

The apartment fell silent.

Mom’s expression changed.

“Madison Parker! You’ve lived in the best neighborhood all your life and gone to the best private schools. We paid your tuition, insurance, summer camps, everything. How can you say we never took care of you?”

I bit the inside of my mouth, forcing myself not to cry any harder.

“You paid for those things. That isn’t the same as being there for me.”

“Grandma picked me up from school. Grandma cooked my meals. When I had a high fever, Grandma was the one who stayed beside me all night.”

When I was thirteen, Grandma’s health began to decline, and she planned to move back to the small town where she used to live so she could rest and recover.

I secretly stuffed my school uniform and clothes into her suitcase.

With tears in her eyes, Grandma asked, “If you come with me, what will your mom and dad do?”

I kept cramming things into the suitcase.

“They don’t need me.”

Later, Mom and Dad chased us all the way to the long-distance bus station.

For the first time, Mom held me tightly.

Dad said, “You’re our daughter. You can’t just leave like this.”

“Once things at the company settle down, we’ll have time for you.”

I believed them.

Later, the company went public.

Their offices grew bigger, and Mom and Dad appeared in more and more news interviews.

But those three hours never increased by a single minute.

Mom pulled Ashley behind her.

“We’re harder on you because you’re our own daughter.”

“Ashley grew up without stable care or companionship. What’s wrong with us giving her a little more attention?”

Dad spoke coldly.

“You’ve had the best education and resources. You should be more capable and more independent than other people.”

Ashley spoke softly.

“Uncle Brad, if you’re busy next week, I can handle the parent-teacher conference myself…”

Mom immediately stroked her hair.

“Don’t say that. I’ll be there.”

Dad took out his phone as well.

“What time is it? I’ll move my meeting.”

Ashley pressed her lips together.

“Won’t that affect your work?”

Dad smiled.

“You’re more important.”

My hand slowly dropped to my side.

During my first year of high school, my teacher asked Dad to stay an extra twenty-three minutes after a parent-teacher conference.

The following month, my living allowance was two hundred and thirty dollars short.

After that, I’d rather pay two hundred dollars for an adult representative than ask either of my parents to attend.

For three whole years, I never asked them again.

Not once.

I looked at Dad.

“So because I’m your own daughter, I’m supposed to get nothing? Is that it?”

Mom frowned.

“Who says you’ve got nothing?”

I bent down and picked up the application form, now marked with dirt from someone’s shoe.

Slowly, I smoothed out the creases.

“You’re right. I have three hours.”

I headed for the door with the form in my hand.

Behind me, Dad was still speaking.

“If you walk out now, the time you have left this month…”

“I don’t want it.”

I didn’t look back.

“I don’t want it anymore. Ever.”