Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Isolation

Vanessa was given a formal reprimand and had to write a three-thousand-word apology, which she read aloud at the Monday assembly. The news spread through the entire grade.

But that wasn't the hardest part.

Going home was.

That evening, I pushed open the front door and found Brenda waiting in the living room. She stood with her arms crossed, her expression as hardened as cold grease.

‘So, you’re back,’ Brenda said, her voice dripping with irritation. ‘Drop your bag. We need to talk.’

I left my bag on the shoe rack by the door and stayed in the entryway, refusing to step further inside.

‘I am deeply disappointed by what you did today,’ Brenda went on. ‘Vanessa is your sister. She is young and makes mistakes, yet instead of covering for her, you snitched? Do you have a conscience at all?’

I didn't reply.

‘Your father loved Vanessa more than anyone. If he could see you treating her this way, his heart would break.’ Brenda’s voice suddenly turned shrill with fake tears. I knew this weapon well. In my past life, she had used it on me for nine years, and it worked every time. As long as she cried and invoked my dead father, I would crumble and apologize.

But this life was different.

‘Brenda,’ I said, my voice steady. ‘When my father was alive, he loved me the most.’

Brenda’s fake sobs choked off.

‘Before he passed, he held my hand on his deathbed and said: Avery, I am sorry I couldn't give you a complete home.’ I continued, ‘As for Vanessa, you only brought her into our lives after my father passed. He never even met her. How could he have loved her?’

Brenda froze, the mask cracking. Seconds later, she exploded. She jumped off the sofa and pointed a trembling finger at my nose. ‘Avery! Don't think because you are older, I can’t handle you! I am still the lady of this house! If you don’t start treating your sister better, you better believe―’

‘Believe what?’

My voice was quiet, yet Brenda’s hand hung in mid-air.

I was looking at her with such icy detachment that it didn't feel like I was looking at an elder. It felt like I was looking at a stranger―or someone even less than that.

‘Brenda,’ I said. ‘You don’t have to like me, and you can play favorites with Vanessa. That is your choice. But I am done doing things against my will. You can call me cold-blooded or selfish if you want. I have spent my whole life living for other people’s expectations, and I am done.’

Brenda’s face flushed purple, then white. She slammed her hand against the coffee table, making the teacups rattle. ‘Get back to your room! No dinner for you!’

I didn't argue. I picked up my bag, walked to my room, and shut the door behind me.

The room was tiny. A single bed, a desk, a closet. That was all the space I had in this ‘home.’ On the wall hung the trophies from my past life―Model Student, Class President, First Place in the Essay Contest. I used to think if I were just good enough, she would love me. Now I knew better. Not everyone under the same roof is family. Some hearts are worlds apart.

Outside, I heard Vanessa’s voice―she must have just returned. She sounded small and aggrieved. ‘Mom… does Avery not like me anymore? I really didn’t mean to―’

‘Don’t cry, Vanessa. Mommy loves you.’

Brenda’s voice followed, sweet and doting, a complete contrast to how she had just spoken to me. That disparity used to feel like needles in my heart. Now, I heard it, but it didn't hurt.

I didn't want this family anymore.

I dropped my bag on the desk and switched on the lamp. My English workbook lay open. In my past life, I dropped out in the eleventh grade because Vanessa told me, ‘Avery, you’re so smart, you won’t miss one year of school,’ so I went to work to pay for her education. Not this time. I would never sacrifice my future for anyone again.

I picked up my pen and began to work. The scratching of the tip against the paper sounded beautiful.

The moon outside was full and bright. My phone buzzed―a message from Nana Betty: ‘Avery, honey, coming over for dinner this weekend?’

Nana Betty was my mother’s old neighbor. After my mom died, she checked on me constantly, bringing me meals, clothes, and pocket money. She wasn't blood, but she was more of a grandmother than I ever had. In my past life, I was too busy cleaning up Vanessa’s messes to see her. Not again.

I typed back: ‘Yes. Nana, I want your homemade dumplings.’

She replied instantly: ‘You got it! Chive and egg, extra dried shrimp!’

For the first time since my rebirth, I smiled.