Chapter 3

Dad came into my bedroom once later that day.

He let out a low sigh, his voice carrying exhaustion and a hint of suppressed guilt.

"Daisy, I know you feel mistreated. But your mother... she's under so much pressure because Lily was born premature and has weak health. She's suffering too..."

He reached out, wanting to stroke my face. His hand hovered in the air for a long time, hesitating, before he finally pulled it back.

He just pulled the blanket up, tucking me in a little tighter.

"You won't feel sad once you're asleep..."

He murmured, as if talking to me, or maybe just comforting himself.

"When you feel better, I'll take you out for your favorite strawberry ice cream."

He turned and left, his back looking slightly hunched, no longer straight and strong like it used to be.

Dad, I'm asleep now, and you're right, I don't feel sad anymore.

But tomorrow's strawberry ice cream... I don't think I can make it.

Before going to bed, Mom came in to check on me one more time. Her brow was furrowed, her face written with nothing but annoyance and resentment.

"I must have owed you a debt in my past life. You were born to torture me."

"Sleeping all day and night. Even a pet would wag its tail once in a while."

She walked to the bedside.

I wished so much that she would be like she was with Lily—that she would notice something was off, panic, feel my forehead, realize how dangerously hot I was, and rush me to the hospital.

But she just poked my shoulder hard through the blanket. Even through the thick cover, the force made my body shake slightly.

"Daisy! Stop acting! Get up right now!"

The girl on the bed didn't move.

Mom’s frown deepened, her face showing nothing but raw disgust and anger.

"Still being stubborn! Fine, sleep then! Let's see how long you can keep this up!"

She slammed the door shut. The loud bang startled Lily in the living room, and she started crying.

Mom’s voice instantly switched to a sweet, gentle tone. She carried Lily past my bedroom door, softly humming a lullaby:

"Sleep, sleep, my sweet little baby, Mommy's hands are gently rocking you..."

She used to hum that song to me, too.

Back before Lily was born.

She used to hold me, rocking me back and forth, telling me I was her little princess, her entire world.

But that was so, so long ago. It felt like a sweet, blurry dream from a past life.

The next day at noon, I still hadn't got out of bed.

As Mom was feeding Lily lunch, she said irritably to Dad,

"Is that brat really sick? She won't wake up no matter how much I call her."

Dad put down his newspaper, a hint of tension on his face. "Maybe I should go check on her."

Mom immediately stopped him.

"Check what?! She's definitely faking it! If you go now, you’re just giving her what she wants! She just wants us to coddle her. No way!"

They thought my silence was a protest, my sleep a tantrum.

But Mom, Dad, I wasn't throwing a tantrum.

I just... couldn't wake up anymore.