Chapter 3One Cry of Pain, and My Parents Stopped Loving Me

That evening, Mom gave Poppy a bath.

I stood in front of the shower curtain, my heart twisting into a knot, terrified she would pull it back and see me in the tub.

Through the steam, Mom lathered soap on Poppy’s back.

Poppy looked up, her wet hair stuck to her forehead. “Mommy, why hasn’t Willow come out yet?”

Mom’s hands paused for a moment. “She’s probably sleeping.”

“But I miss her,” Poppy said in a small voice. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

Mom turned off the water, wrapped Poppy in a big towel, and hugged her close.

“Poppy, do you ever get mad at Mommy and Daddy?”

“Mad about what?”

Mom held her a little tighter. “That we’re always focused on Willow. That we give her the best of everything. That sometimes… we don’t have enough time for you.”

Poppy wrapped her small, damp arms around her mother’s neck.

“No, of course not. Because Willow is sick.” Her voice was serious. “My teacher said today that sick people need the most care. Me and Mommy and Daddy have to love her together.”

My mother’s shoulders trembled slightly.

She buried her face in Poppy’s towel and didn’t speak for a long time.

“You’re such a good girl, Poppy.” Her voice was muffled. “The truth is, your sister has had a very hard life.”

I pressed myself against the cold tiles as my mother continued.

“She was born very weak. The doctors said she might not grow up.” Mom sniffled. “So we were always scared she was in pain, scared she was sad. We just wanted to give her everything we could.”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But sometimes… Mommy gets tired, too. Sometimes I wish she were healthier. I wish I had more time to spend with you.”

Poppy listened, not quite understanding, and patted her mother’s back with her small hand.

I crouched in the corner, transparent tears streaming down my face.

I’m sorry, Mom. I was the one who wasn’t considerate.

If I had never existed, how much better your lives would have been with just Poppy.

But they couldn’t hear me.

After the bath, Mom tucked Poppy into bed. Then, she walked to my bedroom door and stood there for a long time.

Finally, she raised her hand and knocked softly.

“Willow? Are you asleep?”

I floated in front of her, wanting to reach out and touch her, but my fingertips passed through empty air.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you today, Willow. I was wrong. It was Poppy’s first day of school, and I was just so nervous. I didn’t mean to be harsh.”

She paused, as if waiting for a reply that would never come.

She sighed. “I left some cake for you in the living room. It’s your favorite, strawberry. Make sure you eat it.”

She waited another few seconds before returning to her room and closing the door.

I went to the living room. On the table was a small plate with a slice of cake. The strawberry on top was a little crooked.

Late into the night, I watched my own small body in the tub. The water was cold now, my face as white as paper.

My mother never opened the shower curtain.

She didn’t know that I would never eat the cake she left for me.

And that I would never hear her apology.