Chapter 1After My Daughter Died, I Regretted Everything

My son, Ethan, is brilliant, sharp as a tack. Everyone says he’s gifted, a boy genius.

My daughter, Penny… well, she’s the slow one, can barely string a sentence together. She makes me look like a fool in public.

Sometimes, I’ve even thought… it would be better if she were just… gone.

But then, Penny really did die. And all I do now is cry, wishing she’d come back.

* * *

I was right in the middle of Ethan’s parent-teacher conference when Penny’s homeroom teacher called.

"Hello, is this Penny Miller’s mother?"

The teacher on the other end confirmed who I was, then continued, "You weren't able to make it to the conference today, and I wanted to chat about Penny's latest grades. Would you happen to have some time? I could stop by for a home visit…"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Ms. Evans," I said, scanning the classroom for Ethan's desk. "Her dad and I have just been swamped with work lately, couldn't get away."

I found Ethan’s spot and sat down, distracted. "Could you just text me her report card? I’m actually in the middle of something right now. I’ll call you back later."

I mumbled some excuse, eager to get off the phone, and hung up without a second thought.

The mom next to me glanced over. "Ethan's mom, I didn't know you had a daughter too!" she asked, curious.

"Your son is so amazing, your daughter must be doing great in school too, right? What grade is she in? Where does she go?"

My face stiffened. I forced a tight smile, trying to hide how awkward I felt, terrified someone would sense something was wrong.

Nobody would believe it if I told them. My son brought home trophies from Mathletes, writing contests, piano competitions like they were giving them away. My daughter? She was practically non-verbal, a little simpleton. I was embarrassed to even admit they were siblings when we were out.

But secrets have a way of getting out. Since I wasn't saying anything, the parent in front of me suddenly chimed in, "Ethan's mom, is Penny Miller in 8th grade your daughter? My oldest son is in her class."

"Yes… She grew up mostly with her grandmother, you know, out of state. The schools weren't great there. She only transferred here for middle school."

My face flushed crimson. That was the best I could manage, a flimsy excuse to cover my embarrassment.

"Oh, that explains it! I was wondering why they were so different. My son mentioned it, but I didn't really believe him."

The parent in front chuckled, covering her mouth. "Well, it doesn't really matter," she said, her tone dripping with insinuation. "As long as the girl's pretty. Just needs to work on her speaking, maybe she could be an influencer or something later. You don't need much education for that nowadays."

I felt the sting of her mockery, my cheeks burning. I wished the floor would swallow me whole.

It was all Penny’s fault. Failing every subject, always at the bottom of the class, making me, her mother, look bad too.

And her teacher, making such a big deal out of everything. So what if I missed the conference? Did she really have to call and rub it in? Wasn’t I humiliated enough?

Just as I was sinking into my seat, wanting to disappear, Ethan walked over quietly, report card in hand.

"Mom, here are my grades."

I took it automatically. One look, and my mood instantly lifted. All the irritation vanished.

Just as I expected, Ethan was number one in his grade again. Perfect scores in Physics and Math, even. I glanced at the faces of the other parents clutching their kids' report cards; you could tell from their expressions their kids hadn't done nearly as well.

"Ethan's first again! You really know how to raise them, Mrs. Miller."

"Look at you! Why can't you be more like Ethan Miller? Look at these grades! Are you even trying?"

"Mom, Ethan's naturally gifted! How am I supposed to compete with that…"

Listening to the praise for Ethan and the complaints other parents had about their own kids, a small smile touched my lips.

See? It wasn't that I favored my son. It was just that compared to my daughter's utter lack of potential, my son was simply… outstanding.

Smart, talented, exceptional. That was what my child was supposed to be.