My Parents Neglected Me Until I Died Novel by yueji

My mother posted a photo of a red ledger on her account.

The pages were slightly yellowed, clearly showing their age.

“Judy, I was wrong. When you were little, our family was poor, so I had to send you to your uncle’s house in the countryside. What mother would willingly be separated from her own child? I feared you wouldn’t fare well in the countryside, so I sent you things regularly. Your father and I worked tirelessly from dawn till dusk, hoping to bring you back as soon as we could.

But I didn’t expect that by the time we could afford to bring you home, you had grown up and become distant. You kept all your troubles to yourself, and I even learned about your cancer from someone else…

I didn’t know you would suffer so much. In the next life, if you can, be my daughter again, and let me make it up to you wholeheartedly, okay?”

No.

Looking at that ledger, I felt a sharp pang of irony.Copyright by Nôv/elDrama.Org.

To the online viewers, it seemed like a gesture of maternal love.

But they didn’t know it was the straw that broke the camel’s back!

During the endless days of treatment when I was struggling, she had come into my office with that ledger, expressionless, and dropped it on my desk.

“I’ve raised you for so many years, and now that you’re working, it’s time for you to repay me!”

“I’ve checked. This hospital’s monthly salary is over seven thousand dollars. Hand over your salary card. After your salary comes in each month, I’ll give you a thousand dollars. That should be enough for you to live on.”

When she said this, her arms were crossed, and her stance was haughty.

Had she bothered to look at me, she would have seen my face, already pale as a ghost!

But she never did; she never looked at me once!

As I flipped through the ledger, I realized that all the expenses had ended up in my aunt’s pocket.

And the total amount was less than six thousand dollars!

“What you’ve given me is less than my monthly salary. Why should I hand over my salary card?” I asked her coldly

Her expression changed immediately.

“Don’t you understand the debt of giving birth is as great as the sky? And stop focusing on the money. The food and clothes I sent you–don’t they cost money?”

She should have left the clothes out of it.

Mentioning them only made it more sarcastic.

During those years in the countryside, she had only sent me clothes once, a winter coat.

I was overjoyed, thinking that maybe Mom still cared for me. I happily put it on.

But my aunt tore it away, insisting it was for her daughter.

Reluctantly, I begged my aunt for the coat in the freezing winter, kneeling in the yard.

It wasn’t until my uncle saw me nearly frozen and could no longer bear it that he forced my aunt to return the coat.

Later, when I went to college, I saw Jennifer’s childhood photos and realized that the coat I had fought so hard for was actually a free gift from a buy–one–get–one promotion at a brand store when my mom was browsing with Jennifer.

Since it was a discontinued size, Jennifer couldn’t fit it, and somehow my mom thought of me and sent it to me.

When I discovered the truth, I wasn’t particularly angry, just resigned.

After all, Mom had long stopped wanting me; why would she suddenly start loving me now?

It’s precisely because she doesn’t love me that she shamelessly demanded repayment from me so soon after I started working.

Looking at that red ledger, I felt a deep sense of self–mockery, hoping that the discerning eyes of the public would see through the facade and not be deceived by this family’s hypocritical performance.

But I was still disappointed.