Part 3Echoes of an Empty Home

A turning point happened when I was in high school. At that time, in order to get into the journalism industry, I buried myself in my studies all day.

High school required boarding, so I naturally lost the opportunity to watch the news every day.

One day after evening study hall, I saw Grandma standing at the classroom door leaning on her cane.

She had even specifically put on a new dress.

As soon as she saw me, she said excitedly, "Chloe, your mom and dad are back! Let's go pick them up."

In that moment, the books in my hand fell to the floor, and the whole world was reduced to a ringing sound in my ears.

I was going to see my mom and dad. They would finally no longer be just cold images existing on a screen.

I could throw myself into their arms and act spoiled. I could hold their hands, sit next to them, and show them all the certificates of achievement I had earned over the years.

Growing up in the country, I didn't have any special talents. Those certificates commending me for ranking first every year were the only things I could proudly present.

I wanted to know if they would be proud of me.

I hurried to the station with Grandma.

While waiting, I adjusted my hair countless times.

I quietly bought a pack of wet wipes to clean my face.

Using the reflection on the steel armrests of the station seats, I checked my appearance over and over again, constantly regretting that I hadn't washed my hair before coming out.

I was afraid my first impression on them would be bad, but then I thought, since they are my parents, they shouldn't judge.

I had already entered puberty by then, and my ignorant self-esteem had long since taken root.

I thought, since my parents neglected me so much when I was little, when I see them, I should act a bit reserved so we’d be even.

Grandma and I ultimately didn't wait for my parents.

When we had been sitting at the station until past midnight, a friend of my dad's came looking for Grandma. He said my dad had called him, saying they were stopping in Washington D.C. for only a week. Once they finished handing over their work, they would be deployed again, so there was no need to make the trip back to their hometown.

They told us not to wait.

I listened to this news numbly, my head dizzy, only feeling that this was exactly what they would do.

But there was an added layer of contempt for them in my heart.

I thought, Grandma is getting old. Even I know to respect and care for her, yet they let their own mother's expectations fall flat time and time again.

Perhaps they weren't as wonderful as I imagined, perhaps... they weren't even as good as me.

After going back, I got a high fever.

While I was sick, I found out the reason for their return from the uncle who came to visit me.

The war zone they were stationed in had been completely destroyed by artillery fire. The attacks came too suddenly; the journalists were a step too slow to evacuate, and many were injured.

My parents, to record the war-torn city firsthand, forcibly delayed their departure until the very end.

Their best friend—the photographer who had braved life and death with them—died as a result.

They carried the weight of their friend's life and expectations, making them even more unwilling to stop.

After returning to regroup, they quickly packed their bags and headed to the front lines again.

As if to express their guilt, they had someone buy new cell phones for Grandma and me.

They even took the initiative to call me.

But we were indeed strangers. After exchanging a few polite words on the phone, we had nothing left to say.

Before hanging up, my dad told me to study hard and said that mom and dad were waiting for me ahead.

But my attention was entirely on the crisp "Daddy!" from a little girl that came through the receiver.

Yes, they had adopted their colleague's daughter.

That girl, five months younger than me, was very pitiful.

Her mother died when she was very young, and now she had lost her father.

My parents took her in.

War is cruel and dangerous, but they kept Harper by their side.