A Sister, Not a Product
A thin layer of dust had settled on the windowsill; the sunlight fell on it, making even the dust clearly visible.
I tied on a faded apron and carefully placed the last dish — sweet and sour pork ribs — on the table.
A soft clink sounded as the porcelain plate touched the table. Luna Lynn — my mother — finally revealed a rare smile.
Fine wrinkles gathered at the corners of her eyes, bunching together like crumpled paper when she smiled.
"Nola's cooking suits my taste best." She spoke as she lifted her head, calling toward the kitchen doorway, "Jimmy, Dylan, come out quickly, it's time to eat!"
Her voice held a deliberate warmth, but I knew it wouldn't last long.
Sure enough, just as Jimmy Young and Dylan Young sat down at the table, the air seemed instantly drained of warmth, turning cold.
Dylan is my half-brother—same mother, different father—five years younger than me, yet taller by half a head.
He always liked to wear loose tracksuits, hands shoved deep in his pockets, striking the pose of the household's little master.
He picked up his chopsticks and grabbed a big mouthful of spicy chicken. After chewing just twice, he spat it out with a "puh" into the bone plate.
"Sister, did you really put half a jar of chili in this dish?" He frowned, his voice heavy with disgust. "Trying to kill someone with spice? Mom, I told you she never really cares about this family and always sees herself as an outsider!"
His words were like a fine needle, gently piercing my heart.
I said nothing, only tightened my grip on the chopsticks.
Jimmy Young put down his chopsticks, his knuckles whitening from the force of his grip.
He stared at me, his gaze firm and unwavering: "Nola, you're already twenty-eight. Aren't you planning to get married? Do you expect us to support you for the rest of our lives? Your mother and I are getting old, our health is failing. If you truly care about this family, you should hurry and settle your marriage with Finn Clark."
The name Finn Clark felt like a heavy stone pressing down on my heart.
My chopsticks faltered in my hand. I lifted my eyes to Luna Lynn, clinging to a faint hope that she might say something fair.
But she quickly avoided my gaze and echoed Jimmy Young's words: "Finn may not be much to look at, but he's honest and can earn money." Nola, you might say you have a graduate degree, but these days, graduate degrees are a dime a dozen. Marrying Finn? You're the one who's reaching too high.
Steam rose gently from the table, blurring their faces, yet I clearly felt a coldness creeping up from my feet, climbing along my legs to my chest.
They don't know that the reason I came back this time wasn't for any reunion dinner.
Since they're bent on making me miserable, I don't mind—I'll let them taste that bitterness.
"You're all right." I put down my chopsticks, my face expressionless, my voice steady.
Luna Lynn and Jimmy Young's eyes lit up instantly, like they'd found a light in the darkness.
Luna Lynn leaned forward, her elbow on the table, her voice urgent: "So, you agree to marry Finn?"
I curled the corner of my lips into a faint smile and said slowly, "Finn Clark has such good qualities—why not introduce him to Lydia instead? You always told me good things should be saved for younger siblings, didn't you?"
Jimmy Young's face suddenly flushed all the way down to the base of his neck, even the tips of his ears turning red.
He slammed the table and stood up abruptly, the bowls and dishes rattling loudly. "Nola Scott! Finn Clark is ten years older than Lydia! What are you trying to do by saying that?"
"Dad, please don't be upset." I feigned innocence and shrugged. "Isn't it you and Mom who always say that since I'm the eldest, I should yield to my younger siblings? Now that I have, why are you unhappy again?"
Jimmy Young was at a loss for words, opening his mouth but unable to say anything.
Luna Lynn stood to the side, her face darkening as well.
I thought back to my childhood.
Less than six months after my father died, Luna Lynn married Jimmy Young.
The following year, Lydia Young was born, and three years later, Dylan Young arrived.
From that moment on, I felt like an unwanted presence in this family.
Every day after school, what awaited me wasn't a hot meal, but endless laundry and floors that never seemed clean enough.
I was like an unpaid nanny, looking after their little family of three.
"I raised you all these years, and this is how you talk to us?" Luna Lynn's voice shook with anger. She suddenly stood up and reached out to grab my arm. "Is this how your teacher taught you back when you were studying? To talk back to your elders?"
I turned sideways to dodge her hand; it missed and slapped the empty air.
I took out a neatly folded paper from my bag and gently placed it on the dining table. The edges were worn and rough from being folded many times.
"This time, I didn't come back to reunite with you." I looked at them and spoke slowly, enunciating each word: "I came to inform you — I've been accepted to a university abroad and will be leaving next month."
Jimmy Young sneered coldly, his laughter dripping with disdain.
He turned to Luna Lynn and said, "Look at this—the so-called good daughter you raised! I've said it all along: she's ungrateful; raising a dog would've been better than her.""We never let her want for food or clothing growing up, and now that she's grown up, she wants to sever ties with us!"
Dylan Young impatiently kicked the chair beside him, the legs scraping harshly against the floor.
"Nola Scott, are you out of your mind?" He frowned, his tone harsh, "Why give up a good marriage just to suffer abroad? What's so great about foreign countries? Can it ever be more comfortable than home?"
I looked at his young face, so full of bitterness, and suddenly found it almost laughable.
Since my junior year, I'd been taking on part-time jobs—handing out flyers, tutoring, waiting tables—almost anything that could bring in money.
Every time I earned a thousand, they would take eight hundred, saying the household expenses were high and the money was needed.
But later I realized all that money ended up as new dresses for Lydia Young and game consoles for Dylan Young.
Now, they've turned around and are calling me an ungrateful wretch.
Just then, Jimmy Young's phone rang.
The ringtone was a tacky square-dance song, painfully jarring in the quiet living room.
He glanced at the caller ID, and the anger on his face vanished instantly, replaced by a sycophantic smile—as quick and startling as an opera face changer, leaving everyone caught off guard.
From the other end came Lydia Young's sweet, delicate voice; through the receiver, one could faintly hear: 'Dad, Mom, look downstairs! I'm back!'
Jimmy Young and Luna Lynn immediately treated me like I was invisible, quickly moving to the window, leaning against it to look down, and shouting loudly downstairs, "Our darling daughter is back! Come up quickly!"
Not long after, the door was pushed open.
Lydia Young wore the latest down jacket in a bright pink, carried a limited-edition bag on her back, and held an exquisite paper bag in her hand—probably something she had just bought.
The moment she stepped inside, Luna Lynn's eyes reddened; she hurried over, took her hand, and fussed over her with tender care.
"Lydia, is it cold outside? Why are your hands so icy?" Luna Lynn touched Lydia's hand, her voice filled with concern, "Are you hungry? Mom asked your sister to make your favorite sweet and sour pork ribs. Sit down and eat something quickly."
But I clearly remember Lydia was attending university in the city, just half an hour away by car, and she came home at least once a week.
Yet Luna Lynn often told me, "I miss my daughter so much I can't sleep," as if Lydia were so far away.
I stood still, watching the intimate scene between mother and daughter, feeling as if something had stabbed my heart, a tight ache spreading all over.
I used to study at university in another city; I could only go home during winter and summer breaks.
Luna Lynn never called me unless it was to ask for money.
Every time I saw my roommates receive local specialties from their families, I would secretly hide under my blanket and use the money I earned from part-time jobs to buy some local snacks, telling them, 'This is from my mom.'
Back then, I was only eighteen or nineteen, at the age when you crave your family's love the most.
But with Luna Lynn, that longing was always just a distant hope.
Jimmy Young doesn't care for me; I can understand that, since he's not my biological father.
But Luna Lynn is my mother—the person closest to me in this world.
I arrived at her side before Lydia Young and Dylan Young, yet her love has never been shared with me, not even a fraction.
Lydia looked at me as if seeing me for the first time, feigning surprise as she opened her mouth wide: "Oh, my older sister is back. I thought it was just Mom, Dad, and little brother at home."
Then she turned to Luna Lynn and said in a hurt tone, "Mom, did I come back at a bad time? Did I interrupt your conversation? If so, I'll leave now and come back once you're finished."
Lydia and I have never gotten along since we were kids; every time we meet, we argue, and sometimes it even gets physical.
Whenever there's a conflict, Luna Lynn always takes sides unfairly, blaming me no matter who's right or wrong.
Jimmy Young even joins Lydia in scolding me, and in the end, I'm always the one kicked out of the house.
Eventually, I just stopped coming home much; only then did our conflicts ease a bit.
"Lydia, no matter how unsuitable she is, it's still her who's unsuitable." Dylan Young glanced at me with disdain and said, "In this family, as soon as you return, Nola Scott should be the one to leave." Although this house was left by her father, my dad and mom live here now, so she's the outsider.
Luna Lynn was now completely focused on Lydia Young, pushing the pressure for me to marry out of her mind.
She waved her hand, like shooing away flies: "Nola, you should go live somewhere else for a few days, maybe a hotel or a friend's place. After some time, we'll have a proper talk about you."
I looked at her, my voice trembling slightly, as the last shred of hope in my heart slowly faded: "Mom, am I still your biological daughter?"
They clearly hadn't expected me to ask that, and all of them froze for a moment.
Every time they drove me away before, I quietly packed my things and left without saying a word, never asking such questions.
Luna Lynn opened her mouth, as if to argue something, but didn't say a word.
Jimmy Young frowned, his face darkening. "Nola Scott, what do you mean by that? How is your mom not your real mother? If it weren't for her, would you have grown up like this?"
"This house was left by my father." I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to stay calm, speaking each word clearly: "The most unnecessary people here are you. Including you, Jimmy Young."
The living room fell silent instantly; you could hear a pin drop.
Luna Lynn's face shifted between red and pale, hauntingly beautiful.
Jimmy Young's expression was far worse, his brows furrowed tightly enough to squeeze a fly to death.
"Apologize to me!" Luna Lynn snapped, pointing at me, her voice sharp as a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "How can you say that about your father? Has he not treated you well?"
"Why should I apologize?" I held her gaze without the slightest hesitation. "The property deed bears my father's name. I am his only heir. You living here has always been improper and without rightful claim."
Luna Lynn stormed over, her anger sharp, and grabbed my arm.
Her grip was fierce, her nails digging into my skin, just like every time I had "made" Lydia Young cry before—she always held me like that, as if trying to tear me apart.
But this time, I didn't struggle as I used to.
I simply met her eyes calmly and whispered, "Are you really my mother?"
Her motion froze, a flicker of panic crossing her eyes, though it was quickly replaced by anger.
Luna Lynn was stunned by my words, and her grip relaxed slightly.
But soon, she regained that self-righteous look, shaking my arm off forcefully, her voice rising: "I'm not your mother? Then who is your mother?! You were born after ten months in my womb—do you think you just popped out of a stone?"
"You're my mother?" I laughed, bitter and hollow, the sound sharp and jarring in the still living room. "Would a mother watch her own daughter almost get raped, jump from the upstairs window, and then keep it all tightly hidden? Would a mother take the money her daughter's father left for school and hand it over to some other man to pay off gambling debts?"
My eyes gradually grew red; the memories I had deliberately locked away deep in my heart, the pains I thought I had already forgotten, all surged up in this moment, overwhelming me like a tide.
The sharp sound of a slap echoed, landing loudly across my face.
Luna Lynn's slap was powerful; my cheek went numb instantly, followed by a burning pain, as if set aflame.
"What nonsense are you talking about!" She trembled with anger, pointing at me. "Nola Scott, you ungrateful wretch! How could I have given birth to a daughter like you!"
"Am I talking nonsense?" I covered my burning cheeks, tears welling up in my eyes but stubbornly refusing to fall. "Back then, when Finn Clark barged into my room, if I hadn't jumped from the second floor, he would have ruined me by now! When you found out, your first reaction wasn't to ask if I was okay—it was to scold me for being 'immature and ruining Finn's reputation!' And that money Dad left—it was clearly meant for my education, yet you secretly gave it to Jimmy Young to pay off his gambling debts. Do you dare say you didn't?"
At that moment, Lydia Young jumped up and quickly moved to Luna Lynn's side. She grabbed her arm and said hypocritically, "Mom, please stop hitting sister." She is right—this house was originally hers. Dad, my little brother, and I shouldn't be living here. We should move out and not make things hard for her.
Her so-called "mature" words were like a match that immediately ignited Luna Lynn's fury.
I have to admit, Lydia is much smarter than before. After a few years at college, she didn't really learn anything else, but she perfected the art of playing the innocent.
She knew that by saying this, Luna Lynn would only grow angrier, only hate me more.
"Nola Scott, are you even speaking like a normal person?" Luna Lynn pointed at me, trembling with anger, tears on the verge of falling. "We are your family! How can you treat us like this? What have we done to wrong you?"
Family? I sneered coldly inside.
That word, coming from her lips, was unbearably ironic.
I remembered the winter when I was five, so bitterly cold that frost formed delicate patterns on the windows.
Luna Lynn made me wash Lydia Young's diapers, saying Lydia was too young for disposables, and they would harm her skin.
I crouched beneath the bathroom faucet, washing the diapers again and again with icy water, my hands flushed bright red, nearly numb from the cold.
But Luna Lynn was inside, holding Lydia as they watched TV, their mother and daughter laughter occasionally drifting through the room.
I remember once when Lydia and Dylan ran off playing and got lost.
They searched for a long time but couldn't find them, and when they returned, they took their anger out on me.
Jimmy Young grabbed a branch from the yard and struck me with it, calling me a "useless person" for failing to watch over my younger siblings.
The branch broke from hitting me; my back was covered in bloody marks, the pain so sharp I couldn't sleep at night and had to lie on my stomach to rest.
Luna Lynn saw it and only said coldly, "Who told you not to watch them properly? You deserved to be hit."
I also remember one New Year when they planned to return to Jimmy Young's old home.
Lydia Young refused to go with me, saying there was a 'poor, shabby smell' about me and that coming along would embarrass her.
They actually left me home all alone.
I was only ten then, couldn't use the gas stove, not even able to boil some water.
In the end, I nearly suffered gas poisoning and passed out in the kitchen.
That night, I sat on the sofa clutching my blanket and cried through the night, wishing Luna Lynn would call me, even just to ask, 'Are you okay?' But the phone never rang.
These things are like thorns, deeply piercing my heart, never to be removed.
They asked me to come back this time to make the reunion meal—I knew very well it was a trap.
They just want to use my return as an opportunity to force me to marry Finn Clark.
Because Finn's family is wealthy, able to help Jimmy Young pay off his gambling debts, and buy Lydia Young brand-name bags and new clothes.
Even though Finn is a habitual domestic abuser who once put his ex-wife in the hospital; Even though he's eight years older than me, short and overweight, with a face full of scars, they don't care at all.
In their eyes, I was nothing more than a tool to be used for their own gain.
"Sorry, I never once acknowledged you as my family." I looked at Luna Lynn, my eyes cold and unyielding. "Besides, wasn't my household registration already transferred to Uncle Alex's? You only did it because you're afraid I'll claim my father's inheritance. Do you really think I don't see through you?"
Luna Lynn's face darkened even more at my words; her lips trembled, but she said nothing.
Jimmy Young stood beside us, anxiously stamping his feet, wanting to defend Luna Lynn but at a loss for words, trapped in helpless frustration.
"Get out of my sight!" Luna Lynn lost all reason. She snatched the kettle from the coffee table and threw it at me.
The kettle still held freshly boiled water; steam hissed from its spout, carrying a blistering heat.
I dodged instinctively, but the scalding water splashed onto my arm.
Even through the thick cotton jacket, I felt a burning sting, like countless needles piercing my skin.
No one came to help me.
Jimmy Young and Lydia Young stood nearby, watching with no hint of concern—only gloating, as if my being burned was something laughable.
"Get lost! You heartless, cruel beast!" Luna Lynn shouted hoarsely, "I never should have given birth to you! Having you was a mistake!"
Jimmy Young tugged her arm and whispered, "Her marriage to Finn isn't finalized yet... If we drive her away, what will Finn's side do? We're still waiting on him to repay the gambling debts."
"Decide what, exactly?" Luna Lynn couldn't listen to anyone anymore. She pointed at the doorway, "Get her out! I've raised such a b*tch—it's a curse on my family for eight generations! Even without her, I can still force Lydia to marry Finn!"
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