Chapter 3The Stepbrother's Sin

Ethan didn't know I had depression.

He didn't know the culprit of everything was Ashley.

Ethan and I were a blended family.

When I was nine, my father married his mother.

My father was honest and worked hard all his life.

Ethan's mother was shrewd, realistic, and mean.

Most importantly, she favored boys over girls.

We were poor. Every dollar counted.

In her eyes, I, the baggage, was a waste of food.

When Dad was alive, she pretended to spoil me.

But after Dad died, she changed completely.

She said I ate too much.

Said I was useless.

Said I stole her son's resources.

At dinner, she gave all the meat to Ethan.

My bowl only had half rice.

Sometimes, she wouldn't let me eat at the table.

I often couldn't sleep from hunger, stomach burning.

Ethan couldn't stand it.

He would secretly put meat in my bowl with his chopsticks.

Whispering: "Eat quickly."

On the way to school, his pockets were always full.

Bread, cookies, candy.

He pretended to give them casually.

"I can't eat it. Help me."

"I don't like the taste. Yours."

I knew he couldn't bear to eat a single bite himself.

Later, he secretly took part-time jobs.

Flyers, labor, moving things. His hands were full of blisters.

The money wasn't for himself.

It was for my snacks, hair clips, heat packs.

He even secretly bought me a cake for my birthday.

That was the best cake I ever had in my life.