Chapter 3Ten Sticks of Cotton Candy

That's not what happened! I didn't abandon Mom and Dad!

I was so anxious I nearly cried, desperately trying to explain loudly, but Mom and Dad couldn't hear anything.

Mom trembled with anger. "She ignored you and just left?!"

She pulled my sister tighter into her embrace and glared at Dad.

"Listen! Just listen! This is the fine daughter you've spoiled!"

"Knowing we risked our lives going in to find her, she didn't even ask if we were alive or dead! She left with some cotton candy vendor!"

Dad hunched over, his eyes fixed on the mall entrance, saying nothing.

In the chaotic crowd, I saw the cotton candy lady collapsed on the ground, sobbing.

"That child... I already carried her out! But when she heard her parents were still inside, she ran back in!"

"Foolish child... she could have survived!"

I softly said sorry to the lady.

Dad stared in that direction, took a few steps forward, his expression shifting.

My heart tightened.

Dad must have recognized that lady! He must know my sister was lying!

But Dad stopped, turned around, and sighed at Mom.

"Did you hear that?" Dad's voice was full of disappointment.

"Someone else's child... heard their parents might still be inside, already made it out safely, but went back in."

"Such a loyal and righteous child."

So Dad hadn't recognized her after all.

My sister seemed relieved.

Mom let out a cold laugh through her nose:

"You said it yourself—that's someone else's child."

"Ours is just an ungrateful wolf we raised, and you're comparing her to others."

"For some food, she didn't even care about her own parents' lives. What a waste raising her all these years!"

I stood to the side, feeling wronged.

It wasn't someone else's child! That was me, your child.

Dad wearily rubbed his face, his voice very low.

"Let's go. Home."

My spirit involuntarily floated home following them.

Everything at home was still the same as when we left that morning.

The little lights on the Christmas tree glowed quietly. The snowflake stickers I'd put on the windows were still there.

Dad opened the refrigerator, took out a chicken, and placed it on the counter.

Mom rolled her eyes at him and said irritably:

"Why are you taking that chicken out? None of the three of us like chicken."

"Just because that little brat made a fuss about wanting roast turkey for Christmas Eve, we specially bought it for her—over two hundred dollars for one chicken!"

"And what happened? She doesn't care at all!"

Dad sighed, picked up the chicken to put it back in the fridge, then thought better of it and took it back out.

"Let's cook it anyway."

"Maybe she's just playing around, went off with someone to play."

"Maybe... she'll come home for dinner tonight."

Dad prepared an elaborate feast.

The roasted turkey was golden and beautiful, exactly like the ones I'd seen on TV.

Too bad I could no longer taste it.

I tried to reach for the turkey, passing back and forth through the dining table.

Mom suddenly raised her head and looked in my direction.

My heart jumped. Could Mom see me?

I moved around, but Mom's gaze didn't follow.

She was just looking at the darkened sky outside the window.

Mom stared for a long while, then suddenly slammed her fork down on the table with a loud clatter.

"See! I told you! She's never coming back!"

Mom's voice trembled with anger as she abruptly stood up, picked up the untouched roasted turkey, and threw it in the trash.

"If she's got the guts, she can stay away forever! I'll act like I never gave birth to this daughter!"

"Don't..." I instinctively floated over, reaching out to retrieve the chicken.

But I couldn't touch anything.

Dad gently patted Mom's back.

"Alright, alright. Let's not be angry with her. We still have Emma."

My sister immediately threw herself into Mom's arms.

"Don't be angry, Mom. Emma only loves her own mom and dad."

Mom held my sister tightly.

"Yes... Mom's not angry anymore."

"Mom still has Emma."

Dad's hand also rested on my sister's back, patting gently.

The family of three, under the twinkling Christmas lights, embraced tightly together.

Only I floated alone in midair.