Part 2A Room of My Own

I thought everything was over and I could finally take a breather.

Just as I was excitedly planning how to decorate my room and inviting classmates over to see it...

Grandma was sent right back. Because my exams were over.

My joy was for nothing.

I had even humbly suggested to my parents before: I could set up a small partition by the bathroom, the kitchen, or the balcony.

As long as it was a private space, even if it was cramped or smelled a little, I didn't care.

My mom had looked at me like I was a senseless child and scolded me:

"You're the apple of our eye! How could you sleep in a bathroom or kitchen? We'd be a laughingstock."

My dad had chuckled and patted my head: "Silly girl. If my colleagues found out that a respectable school administrator made his daughter sleep by the bathroom, they'd drown me in spit."

It was precisely because I knew protesting was useless that I decided to burn my bridges today. I hoped my parents would be swayed by the relatives' gossip and finally get me a small room.

More than that, I wanted to remind them that I was eighteen. An adult. Not a child anymore. I needed a physically private space.

Was that really such a delusional demand?

The restaurant was in an uproar. My dad glared at me with bloodshot eyes.

It seemed that one slap wasn't enough to vent his anger.

My mom and a crowd of guests held him back, trying to persuade him.

I couldn't hear anything clearly. My face burned with pain. I covered my face and ran out of the restaurant.

The evening breeze cleared my chaotic, sad mind a bit.

The city lights glowed along the street, but my heart felt entirely empty.

My cousin Brittany, who I had never been close with, sent me a text:

[When we were little, I used to envy you. Both your parents have stable state jobs, unlike my parents who bust their asses at a street stand just to feed and clothe me.]

It was true. Growing up, I had the newest dresses and went to the best tutoring centers.

When it came to my education and lifestyle, my parents never seemed stingy.

When peers complained about sharing snacks and toys with siblings, I used to feel lucky to be an only child—my parents' one and only treasure.

So, regarding not having my own room, I even consoled myself that my parents probably had their own considerations.

After all, with their energy and finances, getting me a room would have been incredibly easy.

I didn't reply. Brittany's messages continued:

[But I stopped envying you a long time ago. Want to know why?]

I turned off my phone, ignoring her attempt to kick me while I was down.

I sat on a bridge, staring down at the murky river water in the dark.

It was just as murky as my parents' love for me.

I didn't know how much time had passed, but police sirens suddenly wailed in my ears.

I was so deep in thought that I hadn't realized a crowd had gathered on the other side of the bridge.

My mom stood at the front of the crowd, screaming:

"Emma! We actually decided to buy a new house a long time ago, we just hadn't told you yet! Please come down, okay?"

My dad's eyes were red, and he was slapping his own face frantically:

"I'm sorry! I shouldn't have hit you! I acted on impulse!"

I looked down at myself. I was sitting so close to the edge of the bridge that one slip of the leg and I would have fallen in.

It was a huge misunderstanding.

I apologized to the police and quickly got off the bridge.

My parents hugged me tightly, treating me like a precious, lost treasure they had finally found.