Chapter 2

Three days later, Vanessa arrived.

She wore a tasteful champagne wrap dress, flawless light makeup, and had her hair pinned in a sleek chignon.

Except for slightly puffy eyes, she didn't look like someone who had traveled hundreds of miles.

The moment she walked through the door, she wrapped me in a tight embrace, her expensive floral perfume instantly engulfing me.

"Maya, you worked so hard."

Her voice trembled with calibrated grief, as if we were long-lost sisters reunited.

I didn't move. I stood rigid in her arms like a slab of wood.

Awkwardly, she pulled back, her eyes scanning the living room.

When her gaze snagged on the scarred, dented wall, her brow twitched with mild disgust.

"Place hasn't changed a bit."

Taking my hand, she pulled me down onto the worn fabric sofa, speaking with a familiarity that pretended she had never left.

"I came back for two things: to say a final goodbye to Mom, and to handle the house."

She paused, studying my neutral face, then pulled an envelope with a cashier's check from her designer bag and slid it across the table.

"Maya, here is ten thousand dollars."

"I know offering five on the phone was tacky. Don't hold it against me."

"You took care of Mom for years. Even if there's no glory, there was certainly labor."

"Take this. Buy yourself something nice. Don't shortchange yourself."

She spoke from high above.

I stared at the check, my hands staying still.

My silence made her squirm.

She switched to an even more mournful face, patting my hand as she walked down memory lane.

"Remember when we were little?"

"We were so broke, Mom could only afford one fruit candy, and she always let me pick first."

"She said I was the older one, so I should get first dibs."

"And when I got married, Mom secretly slipped me that bankbook, telling me never to tell you."

"She said a woman needs private savings so she can hold her head high in front of her in-laws."

"Deep down, Mom loved you the most. She just didn't know how to show it."

"She always told me that you were more sensible, more capable than me."

"See? In the end, she left the heaviest burden to you because she trusted you."

She rambled on, glorifying Mom's blatant favoritism and painting her own self-serving interpretations.

Every word was a dull blade sawing against my nerves.

I finally understood why Mom had left the house to her.

Because in Mom's world, the squeaky wheel got the grease.

And I was the child who never cried, which meant I was the child who never deserved a drop of sweetness.

I pulled my hand back from her grip. My voice was utterly calm.

"Vanessa, Mom's ashes are already placed at the memorial park. If you want to visit, I'll text you the plot location later."

Vanessa froze, clearly stunned by my lack of reaction.

She probably expected me to break down in tears over her nostalgic performance and gratefully accept her ten-thousand-dollar charity.

"As for the house, no rush."

I stood up, walked over to the tin box filled with bills, and set it down onto the glass coffee table in front of her.

It landed with a dull, heavy thud.

"What's this?"

Vanessa frowned at the scratched tin box.

"Open it and see."

She lifted the lid with mild distaste.

The moment she saw the jam-packed stacks of receipts and itemized medical invoices, her face drained of color.

"What... is all this?"

"Mom's expenses from the past six years."

I knelt down, pulled out a discharge summary and billing statement, and held it before her eyes.

"2018: Mom's first stroke. Total bill was $32,800. After insurance, the out-of-pocket balance was $17,600."

I pulled out another folder.

"2019: Hired our first home caregiver at $3,500 a month. Six months in, she quit because Mom was combative. Here's the placement agency fees."

I drew another stack.

"These are her daily prescriptions—cholesterol, blood thinners, Donepezil. Over a thousand dollars a month just in medication co-pays."

"These are her adult diapers, starting from three a day up to eight a day toward the end."

"These are the feeding tubes, liquid nutrient bags, and twice-weekly physical therapy visits."

I pulled them out sheet by sheet. The white paper fluttered like snow, quickly covering the entire coffee table.

Vanessa's expression morphed from confusion to shock, and finally into pale horror.

Her lips trembled as she stared at the staggering totals, completely at a loss for words.

"Vanessa, you keep saying Mom favored you. You're right. She gave you all her love, and she gave you the house."

My voice was quiet, but sharp enough to slice through the air.

"And what she left me was this."

I pointed at the mountainous pile of receipts, curling my lip into a dry smile.

"This, an exhausted body, and a hollowed-out soul."

Vanessa's eyes darted around, avoiding my gaze.

She nudged the check closer to me, her voice losing its previous confidence.

"Maya, I know it was brutal... Ten grand is a bit low, I admit."

"How about... fifteen thousand? That is literally every penny of liquid cash I have right now. My household expenses are insane, and Leo's extracurriculars cost a fortune..."

I placed my palm flat over the check, staring directly into her eyes.

"I don't want your handouts, Vanessa."

I pushed the tin box straight toward her chest, my finger tapping against the stacks of paper.

"I want what I actually paid. The money that belongs to me."

"I want you to see, in black and white, exactly how much money it took to keep that precious 'motherly love' alive."

Without waiting for a response, I began quietly boxing the receipts back into the tin.

Those were the receipts of my six lost years. How I'd use them, I hadn't decided yet.