Summer break. My parents, both high school teachers with far too much free time on their hands, struck gold and snagged discounted tickets to London.

They counted down the days on their fingers, systematically going around the circle—my older sister was working, my younger brother had sports camp—deliberately ignoring me, who had just finished high school exams and was idling around the house with nothing to do.

And just like that, they were gone for seven days.

Seven days later, when they rolled back through the front door looking polished and glowing, the three of us were hunched over the kitchen island, sharing a pot of cheap instant ramen.

Mom handed a lifesized SpiderMan collectible statue to my brother. "Todd, sweetie, I know how much you’ve loved superheroes since you were little.

Your dad and I went to seven different stores just to find this in stock." Dad reached into his shopping bag, pulling out two sleek boxes for my sister. "A Burberry silk scarf and Jo Malone perfume, Chloe.

I hope you can put these to good use when you need to make an impression." Chloe and Todd squealed with joy, clutching their gifts like sacred treasures.

When it came to my turn, Mom fished two identical, squashed airplane meal boxes out of her canvas tote and tossed them casually onto the floor. "Here’s yours.

Your dad and I couldn’t even bear to eat them on the flight." The flattened bread popped out of its flimsy wrapper with a dull thud, sticking firmly to the linoleum. I said nothing.

I just turned on my heel and walked back to my bedroom.

Luckily, just one second before the college application portal locked forever, I had secretly changed my top choice to a university a thousand miles away. … 1 The moment my bedroom door clicked shut, the loud chatter outside instantly fell dead silent.

But it lasted for only a breath. A second later, the house erupted into laughter again.

My brother gushed repeatedly about how Mom and Dad’s gift was literally the coolest thing he’d ever owned.

Chloe couldn’t wait to tear open the fancy packaging, spraying perfume into the air and spinning beneath the scented mist.

Only I was curled up in the cramped study, feeling like a thief peeking at someone else’s happiness through a keyhole.

Mom’s voice drifted through the thin wooden panel. "Unbelievable! We leave the house for a week, and Josie lets you two eat instant noodles?

I wasted my time teaching her how to cook!" "Hold on, I’ll make you a real dinner right now." The kitchen door creaked open, and within moments, the stove was roaring.

A single wall separated us, but it couldn't block the deafening rumble of the exhaust fan, nor could it filter out the thick smell of grease wafting through the cracks.

What my mother called "teaching" was really her forcing me into the kitchen at six years old under the guise of "building character." At an age when my peers couldn't even hold a kitchen knife safely, I had already learned how to slice potatoes, braise short ribs, and simmer complex broths.

Ever since I mastered cooking, whenever the family gathered, I was the one permanently trapped in the kitchen.

Chloe would lounge on the sofa watching TV, while Todd glued his eyes to his phone, playing games.

By the time I carried the last dish to the table, the food had already gone lukewarm, and the best cuts of meat had been picked clean from the platters.

They complained that I was too slow, that my seasoning was too bland, that I didn't know how to control portions for soup or pasta. Ten years of this made me an extraordinary cook.

But no one ever asked me if I actually wanted to learn. Outside, the laughter continued. Mom whipped up a full table of food in record time and called everyone to eat.

Chloe hesitated. "Josie is still in her room..." Dad cut her off sharply. "Why bother with her? If she doesn't come out, she isn't hungry.

Todd is growing—saving that extra portion means more fuel for him." As for the instant ramen from earlier, I hadn't even been allowed to eat the noodles.

If I hadn't snuck two hasty sips of the boiling broth right after pouring the hot water while they complained it was too hot, I wouldn't have tasted a thing.

Smelling the savory food outside, my stomach growled painfully.

Out of the four people sitting around that dinner table, not a single one came to check if I was hungry or if I wanted a bite. I let out a bitter, selfdeprecating laugh.

I had long accepted the fact that I was an invisible ghost in this house. Why did I still harbor these pathetic, foolish fantasies?

I pulled out my phone, masochistically tapping into the college portal to view my secretly altered choice. "University of Michigan, Department of Mechanical Engineering." When my test scores had first come back, my parents insisted I choose a premed track, claiming under the guise of wisdom that having a doctor in the family would save everyone a lot of hassle down the road.

Yet Chloe’s graphic design major was her passion, and Todd’s athletic training was his prized talent.

When it came to me, the only consideration was "saving them hassle." They didn't care about what I loved; they only cared about what utility I could bring to this family.

If I hadn't seen my own birth certificate with my own eyes, I would have genuinely doubted whether I was adopted.

So in the final minute before the submission portal locked, a quiet defiance took hold of me, and I selected the field I actually cared about: mechanical engineering. "Buzz.

Buzz." My phone vibrated violently under my pillow. I pulled out the beatup, handmedown flip phone and clicked open the message. "Congratulations!

You have been accepted to your topchoice program: University of Michigan." Tracing the small screen with my thumb, a fierce, blooming warmth flared in my chest.

For the very first time in my life, I had made a choice for myself. It was the first time, but it would certainly not be the last. BANG!

The front door of my room was kicked open, the brass latch snapping off and flying across the room. Startled, I sat up abruptly on the bed, staring into my father's thunderous face.

He glared down at me, his eyes dark with fury. "Josie! Your mother and I just walk through the door and you give us attitude? Now you lock yourself in here to throw a hunger strike?

What is the meaning of this? Are you trying to threaten us?" 2 I sat on the edge of the bed, my mouth parting slightly, but no words came out.

They had handed one child a collector’s statue worth hundreds and another a closet full of luxury goods, while I was thrown cold airline trash.

What "attitude" did I even have the right to show? Dad took a heavy step forward, grabbing my shirt collar and yanking me out into the hallway.

Todd, his mouth stuffed full of pot roast, mumbled around his food, "What else could it mean? She’s throwing a fit because Chloe and I got real presents.

You guys didn't buy her anything expensive, so her precious feelings are hurt.

Am I right, Josie?" Chloe daintily wiped her mouth with a napkin, raising an eyebrow at me. "Josie, this is really on you. Whatever Mom and Dad bring back is a gesture of love.

How could you throw a tantrum over price tags?" Mom pressed her lips together, her eyes sharp and unforgiving. "Who we buy gifts for and what we choose to buy is OUR freedom!

Who gave you the right to point fingers? Take it or leave it, or get out!" With a sharp flick of her foot, she kicked the squashed airline meal box right toward me.

The heavy plastic box slammed hard against my shin, sending a jolt of sharp pain through my leg that made my face twist. Look at that.

I hadn't said a single word, yet in just a few sentences, they had already tried, convicted, and sentenced me.

In the past, I would have swallowed it down, endured it in silence, and waited for a new day to reset the clock.

But this time, the acceptance notification flashed wildly in my mind. For the very first time in my life, I stood up straight in front of them. "Why?" I asked, my voice steady.

They froze, caught off guard. I looked them dead in the eye. "I am your child, too.

Why do their gifts cost hundreds of dollars while mine is free airline trash?" "I would rather you brought me nothing at all than use garbage to humiliate me." Whether from rage or sheer humiliation, Mom’s face flushed red.

She marched over, shoving her wirerimmed glasses up her nose with a trembling finger. "Humiliate? You are getting more out of line by the second! Josie!

On your knees!" Here it came again. Whenever I "erred," she would put on her authoritative teacher persona and use forced kneeling as her weapon of discipline.

It started inside our house, then moved to the hallway outside, and eventually, no matter where we were, she used the exact same method to "educate" me.

Malls, public sidewalks, school playgrounds, amusement parks... I had measured practically every square inch of this town with my bare knees.

I stood my ground, staring at her coldly. She pointed a finger directly at my nose, screaming, "Josie!

Did you forget the family rules? "Respect your elders!" I say one word and you have a hundred talkbacks waiting for me!

Is this how a child speaks to her parents?" My parents and Chloe were "elders," so naturally, the rules didn't apply to them.

Todd was young, male, had a strong sense of pride, and was destined for "great things," so he was exempt from following them, too.

Her socalled "family rules" were created solely to shackle one person: me. The atmosphere locked into a suffocating stalemate. No one spoke.

Suddenly, Todd stood up, deliberately stepping right on the squashed airplane bread scattered on the floor.

He walked into his bedroom, grabbed his aluminum baseball bat, and handed it to Mom. "Mom, you always say spare the rod and spoil the child.

Looks like Josie needs another round of discipline." Enraged and seeing that I remained entirely unmoved, Mom actually gripped the bat and swung it straight toward my head.

I dodged to the side, instinctively raising my arm to block the impact.

Just as the bat sliced through the air, whistling inches from my face, Dad shouted at the top of his lungs: "Enough!

Stop it!" The bat halted abruptly, hovering a mere two inches from my temple. Todd and Chloe looked at him in total shock. Even I was stunned.

Whenever Mom punished me in the past, Dad was always the cold spectator enjoying the show.

Yet today, he had actually stepped in to stop her? 3 Dad rubbed his temples, his brow deeply furrowed. "She already submitted her application for premed.

She’s going to be a surgeon. If you break her arm over a petty fight, what happens to her future? Do you know how hard it is for a middleclass family to produce a doctor?

If she can't hold a scalpel later, how are we supposed to recoup our investment?" Mom’s grip loosened, and she carefully carried the bat back into Todd’s room.

Dad tightened his lips, his voice dropping into a stern tone. "Besides, her high school called me two days ago. Local press wants to do a feature interview on our family next month.

Even if she only placed third in her class, we are going to use the platform to showcase our parenting philosophy.

If you break her arm, she’ll be sitting in front of the cameras wrapped in a cast! How would that look?" I froze. I had never heard a single word about this.

Todd’s eyes lit up with instant excitement. "What? Does that mean I’m going to be on TV? I want to go!" Chloe also looked at Dad, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Dad waved a dismissive hand, a proud smirk touching his lips. "Of course. The whole family goes.

If we go viral from this interview, it’ll do wonders for Todd’s college applications later.

After all, with a highachieving sister, people will assume the brother is just as brilliant." In an instant, the entire family was swept up in the excitement of their upcoming television appearance.

The cruel farce ended just like that—forgotten, dismissed, and buried. …… After that day, the house shifted into a strict prep routine.

Mom and Chloe visited spa clinics every few days, dieting and pampering their skin to ensure they looked immaculate on camera.

Even Dad and Todd started paying meticulous attention to their grooming. Yet no one paid any attention to me.

It never crossed their minds that without my test scores, they wouldn't have had this spotlight in the first place. Of course, I was long used to being invisible.

While they were busy preening themselves, I snuck out every day, working grueling summer jobs from dawn to dusk to save up for my travel expenses and deposit.

I knew with absolute certainty that the moment my true university choice was revealed, they wouldn't give me a single dime. I had to pave my own way out.

A month flew by in the blink of an eye. On the day of the interview, our whole family arrived at the local media studio in full gear.

Chloe and Mom had gotten their hair styled and wore tailored silk dresses, determined to capture their best angles for the camera.

Dad was unusually nervous, pacing back and forth while rehearsing his speech.

I had overheard his talking points earlier—it was nothing more than a fiction of how much sweat and blood they had poured into raising me, how supportive the family environment had been, and how my success was built entirely on their sacrifices.

Not a single word of truth. I wore my faded high school hoodie—the one with wornout cuffs—and stood behind them, looking like an ugly duckling shoved into a flock of swans.

After two other topscoring students finished their segments, it was my turn.

The moment the camera lens swung toward me, Chloe threw her shoulder out, shoving me violently out of the frame. "Yes! Hi, I’m Josie’s older sister, Chloe!

Josie’s incredible score has everything to do with our home environment.

Both of our parents are dedicated high school teachers..." The reporter’s eyes lit up. "Both parents are educators? What a wonderful background!

What was your family's core educational philosophy while raising Josie?" Chloe spoke smoothly to the camera, her tone dripping with polished grace.

The monitor occasionally cut to Mom and Dad, who were beaming with warm, loving smiles.

Anyone watching would think we were the most harmonious, pictureperfect family in the country. After a few general questions, the camera finally focused on me.

Todd tried to squeeze into the frame to speak, but the cameraman politely blocked him. "Josie," the reporter said, smiling warmly, "we heard your official acceptance came through today.

When you opened that letter, who was the person you wanted to thank the most?" I looked up. Mom and Dad were desperately mouthing "Us" from behind the lights.

Chloe and Todd pointed blatantly at themselves.

Facing the expectant eyes of those four people, I pressed my lips into a thin line. "Myself." "I want to thank myself—for saving my own life again and again, and for refusing to give up." "I have always believed that you have to carve your own path.

You can't let other people write your script." Mom and Dad’s smiles shattered instantly. My veiled jab made their expressions turn dark and treacherous.

But with the rolling camera recording every second, they desperately suppressed their rage, forcing stiff, unnatural grins back onto their faces.

As the segment wrapped up, a reporter in the back suddenly raised his microphone. "Finally, a question for Josie's parents—how do you feel about letting your daughter travel all the way across the country to attend the University of Michigan?

Did you consider the extreme distance and harsh winters when helping her select her school?" Hearing those words, the smiles on my parents' faces froze completely solid.