A Sister, Not a Product

The New Year's morning light, carrying the sharp chill of winter, filtered through the old, yellowed glass window, casting mottled shadows on the dining table. A thin layer of dust had settled on the windowsill; the sunlight fell on it, making even the dust clearly visible. I tied on a faded apron and carefully placed the last dish — sweet and sour pork ribs — on the table. A soft clink sounded as the porcelain plate touched the table. Luna Lynn — my mother — finally revealed a rare smile. Fine wrinkles gathered at the corners of her eyes, bunching together like crumpled paper when she smiled. "Nola's cooking suits my taste best." She spoke as she lifted her head, calling toward the kitchen doorway, "Jimmy, Dylan, come out quickly, it's time to eat!" Her voice held a deliberate warmth, but I knew it wouldn't last long. Sure enough, just as Jimmy Young and Dylan Young sat down at the table, the air seemed instantly drained of warmth, turning cold. Dylan is my half-brother—same mother, different father—five years younger than me, yet taller by half a head. He always liked to wear loose tracksuits, hands shoved deep in his pockets, striking the pose of the household's little master. He picked up his chopsticks and grabbed a big mouthful of spicy chicken. After chewing just twice, he spat it out with a "puh" into the bone plate. "Sister, did you really put half a jar of chili in this dish?" He frowned, his voice heavy with disgust. "Trying to kill someone with spice? Mom, I told you she never really cares about this family and always sees herself as an outsider!" His words were like a fine needle, gently piercing my heart. I said nothing, only tightened my grip on the chopsticks. Jimmy Young put down his chopsticks, his knuckles whitening from the force of his grip. He stared at me, his gaze firm and unwavering: "Nola, you're already twenty-eight. Aren't you planning to get married? Do you expect us to support you for the rest of our lives? Your mother and I are getting old, our health is failing. If you truly care about this family, you should hurry and settle your marriage with Finn Clark." The name Finn Clark felt like a heavy stone pressing down on my heart. My chopsticks faltered in my hand. I lifted my eyes to Luna Lynn, clinging to a faint hope that she might say something fair. But she quickly avoided my gaze and echoed Jimmy Young's words: "Finn may not be much to look at, but he's honest and can earn money." Nola, you might say you have a graduate degree, but these days, graduate degrees are a dime a dozen. Marrying Finn? You're the one who's reaching too high. Steam rose gently from the table, blurring their faces, yet I clearly felt a coldness creeping up from my feet, climbing along my legs to my chest. They don't know that the reason I came back this time wasn't for any reunion dinner. Since they're bent on making me miserable, I don't mind—I'll let them taste that bitterness. "You're all right." I put down my chopsticks, my face expressionless, my voice steady. Luna Lynn and Jimmy Young's eyes lit up instantly, like they'd found a light in the darkness. Luna Lynn leaned forward, her elbow on the table, her voice urgent: "So, you agree to marry Finn?" I curled the corner of my lips into a faint smile and said slowly, "Finn Clark has such good qualities—why not introduce him to Lydia instead? You always told me good things should be saved for younger siblings, didn't you?" Jimmy Young's face suddenly flushed all the way down to the base of his neck, even the tips of his ears turning red. He slammed the table and stood up abruptly, the bowls and dishes rattling loudly. "Nola Scott! Finn Clark is ten years older than Lydia! What are you trying to do by saying that?" "Dad, please don't be upset." I feigned innocence and shrugged. "Isn't it you and Mom who always say that since I'm the eldest, I should yield to my younger siblings? Now that I have, why are you unhappy again?" Jimmy Young was at a loss for words, opening his mouth but unable to say anything. Luna Lynn stood to the side, her face darkening as well. I thought back to my childhood. Less than six months after my father died, Luna Lynn married Jimmy Young. The following year, Lydia Young was born, and three years later, Dylan Young arrived. From that moment on, I felt like an unwanted presence in this family. Every day after school, what awaited me wasn't a hot meal, but endless laundry and floors that never seemed clean enough. I was like an unpaid nanny, looking after their little family of three. "I raised you all these years, and this is how you talk to us?" Luna Lynn's voice shook with anger. She suddenly stood up and reached out to grab my arm. "Is this how your teacher taught you back when you were studying? To talk back to your elders?" I turned sideways to dodge her hand; it missed and slapped the empty air. I took out a neatly folded paper from my bag and gently placed it on the dining table. The edges were worn and rough from being folded many times. "This time, I didn't come back to reunite with you." I looked at them and spoke slowly, enunciating each word: "I came to inform you — I've been accepted to a university abroad and will be leaving next month."