My Ungrateful Daughter

That afternoon, just after I got home from work, I saw two large suitcases piled in the living room, and Sophie putting on lipstick in front of the mirror. She was wearing a tight spaghetti strap dress, the hem so short it almost revealed the top of her thighs. Her hair was styled in wavy curls, and her makeup was so heavy it looked like she was going to a fancy party. I put down my bag and walked over, trying to keep my tone calm: "Sophie, it's almost dark. You're packing—where are you going?" She didn't turn around, just glanced at me through the mirror: "To meet Felix. He said he wants to take me abroad to live." "Felix?" I felt a pang in my chest. "You mean the top gift sender in your live broadcast room?" "You haven't even met him in person. How can you just go with him like that?" Sophie put down her lipstick, turned around, a scornful smile on her lips: "Mom, what do you know?" "Felix sent me ninety-nine rockets last week, and each rocket costs a thousand bucks. Do the math." I frowned. "No matter how much money he has, it can't be eaten. You never know what's in a person's heart. What if he's a bad guy?" "Bad guy?" She sneered, "Would a bad guy send me so many gifts?" "You just don't want me to leave because you're scared no one will be your punching bag." I took a deep breath, holding back the anger in my chest: "I'm not saying you can't chase a better life, but you're only twenty, the perfect age to be studying. Even if you don't want to study, you need to find a proper job." "A proper job?" She rolled her eyes. "Like you, making a few thousand a month on a dead-end salary, never seeing real money your whole life?" Looking at her unfamiliar face, a chill ran through me: "Sophie, I've saved up some money over the years — more than two million. It's enough for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life." "Don't go with that Felix guy. Can't we just live our lives peacefully, just the two of us?" When she heard "more than two million," her eyes lit up briefly, then quickly went cold again: "So what if it's more than two million?" "Felix makes a few million from just one project; your little bit of money isn't even enough for him to buy a car." I grabbed her arm anxiously: "Sophie, don't be so naive. People online can't be trusted. I'm doing this for your own good!" She suddenly shook off my hand with such force I nearly fell: "Don't touch me!" "I'm telling you, I have to leave today. If you try to stop me again, we're done!" Saying that, she pulled a piece of paper out of her bag and slapped it down on the coffee table with a smack. "This is an agreement to sever ties. Sign it, and from now on, I'm done with you. I don't even want your money." I picked up the agreement, my hands trembling; the handwriting was shaky and it said, "Voluntarily sever mother-daughter relationship, no interference with each other from now on." "Sophie, how can you say something like that? I'm your mother!" My voice began to shake. She sneered coldly, her eyes full of malice: "Mom? You call yourself a mom?" "I've been hoping you'd die young since I was a kid, so I could inherit your estate. If you weren't so stubborn, I'd have gotten the money ages ago." I froze, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me, chilling me from head to toe. "You... what did you say?" "I said I curse you to die early!" she shouted. "Do you think I want to live with you?" "I'm sick of looking at your sour face every day, listening to your nagging!" "Felix is thousands, even ten thousand times better than you. He's rich and gentle, unlike you—stingy and mean!" I looked at her fierce expression and suddenly felt completely unfamiliar with her. Is this really still the daughter I've loved since she was little? "You want to leave, fine, but I won't sign this agreement." I pushed the paper back. "I'm your mom—always have been, always will be. I can't cut ties with you." "You're not signing, huh?" She grabbed her suitcase. "Then I'm leaving. I'll never come back. Just pretend I was never your daughter!" After saying that, she dragged her suitcase toward the door. The high heels clicked on the floor—"dong dong"—like they were pounding on my heart.