Right before freshman year, my parents set up a mystery envelope challenge, claiming it was a test of our independence. Two envelopes sat on the table. One held a monthly allowance of two thousand dollars. The other held the Zero Dollar Survival Challenge. “Whoever draws zero dollars isn’t allowed to come home crying about being broke for the next four years.” In my past life, I drew the zero-dollar card. For four years, my classmates treated me like trash, and I barely survived on extra ladles of soup from the cafeteria staff. Meanwhile, my younger brother flaunted brand-new clothes and the latest iPhones every week, telling everyone I was great material for an inspirational struggle story. It wasn’t until graduation day that I discovered the truth. Both envelopes had contained the Zero Dollar Survival Challenge. Reborn back to the day of the draw, I smiled and pushed the envelopes toward my brother. “Mom and Dad love you the most. You go first, Kevin. Don’t let me steal your good luck.” 1 My mother, Freya, sat on the sofa, a gentle smile plastered across her face. “Elijah, Kevin, you’re both heading off to college soon. Your father and I prepared a little test for you.” My father, Richard, slid two white envelopes across the coffee table. “One contains a monthly allowance of two thousand dollars. The other is the Zero Dollar Survival Challenge. Which one you get depends entirely on fate.” Kevin sat beside Mom, his freshly styled hair gleaming under the chandelier. His lips curled upward, the arrogant look of a boy who had been favored by destiny his entire life. In my previous life, Mom had subtly nudged the envelope on the left half an inch toward me. This time, before her hand could even move, I snatched the envelope on the right and stuffed it directly into Kevin’s palm. “Mom and Dad love you the most. You go first, Kevin. Don’t let me steal your good luck.” The living room fell dead silent for a moment. Kevin’s smirk froze on his face. Mom instinctively looked at Dad. Dad frowned, his brow furrowing into deep creases. “You’re the older brother. You should yield to your younger brother. Since when does the younger brother pick first?” I pressed the envelope firmly against Kevin’s fingers. “Dad, didn’t you just say it’s up to fate? Does fate care who was born first?” Mom immediately jumped in to smooth things over. “Elijah, don’t be so rigid. It’s just a game.” “Then all the more reason for Kevin to draw first,” I replied, staring straight into Kevin’s eyes. “He’s always been lucky. He scrapes by on exams and still wins academic awards. He enters mall raffles and walks away with free phones. His luck won’t fail him today.” Kevin didn’t dare open it. His fingernails dug into the paper edges, his face turning pale second by second. Ash from Dad’s cigarette dropped onto his trousers, but he didn’t bother brushing it off. His voice turned heavy and grim. “Kevin, open it.” Kevin looked up, his eyes rimmed with red. “Dad, I don’t want to play anymore.” Mom instantly wrapped her arms around him, cradling him like a fragile child. “If he doesn’t want to play, he doesn’t have to! He’s still young, why are you scaring him like this?” In my past life, when I drew the zero-dollar card, nobody said I was still young. I was terrified back then too. I asked if I could redraw, and Dad smashed his glass mug right at my feet. “Life doesn’t give you second chances! Stop throwing a tantrum the moment things get tough!” Yet now, when it was Kevin’s turn, he merely sniffled, and Mom looked at him as if he had suffered the greatest tragedy in the world. I reached out and picked up the other envelope from the table. “Fine, I’ll open it for him.” “Elijah!” Dad slammed his palm onto the heavy oak table. The coffee table shook violently, sending a bowl of fruit spilling onto the rug. I froze my hand in midair. The gentle facade on Mom’s face completely vanished. “Elijah, what is wrong with you today? Why are you intent on making everyone miserable?” “Didn’t you two say this was a test of our independence?” I placed the two envelopes side by side. “If we don’t open them, how do we test anything?” Kevin bit his lip, tears cascading down his cheeks. “Elijah, do you hate me that much? I just wanted to go to college happily.” Mom glared at me with pure venom. “Look at what you did! You scared your brother to tears!” Dad stood up, snatched the envelope from Kevin’s hand, and shoved it hard against my chest. “Fine! You draw! You’re the sensible one, aren’t you?” The sharp corner of the paper jabbed painfully into my palm. I looked down and let out a quiet chuckle. “Dad, didn’t you just say it was all up to fate?” Dad’s face turned thunderous. “I told you to open it, so open it!” Those words were identical to what he said in my past life. I slowly tore open the top of the envelope. Unfolding the white sheet inside, six words written in bold black ink stared back at me. Zero Dollar Survival Challenge. Mom let out a long, audible sigh of relief. Kevin stopped crying immediately. He buried his face into Mom’s shoulder, peeking out at me with half an eye that practically danced with secret glee. Dad cleared his throat, regaining his stern composure. “Since you drew it, we stick to the rules.” I placed the paper on the table. “What about Kevin’s envelope?” Mom reached across the table, attempting to swipe the remaining envelope away. I slammed my hand down, pinning it beneath my palm. “To be fair, let me open this one too.” Dad’s heavy hand slammed down right over the back of my wrist. The bones of my hand crushed against the hard wooden table, sending a sharp, numbing pain shooting up my arm. He glared down at me, leaning in close, his voice dripping with malice. “Elijah, don’t push your luck.” Kevin lifted his head from Mom’s shoulder and whimpered, “Elijah, stop making a scene. Dad’s blood pressure is spiking.” I looked at him calmly. “If you’re so worried about his blood pressure, why didn’t you open the envelope yourself?” Kevin’s face flushed a deep, embarrassed red before turning ghostly pale. Mom slapped my arm hard. “Enough!” Dad crumpled the unopened envelope in his fist, pulled out the coffee table drawer, and shoved it inside. The soft click of the lock turning felt like an iron curtain dropping. My heart turned entirely cold. Dad pointed a thick finger at my face. “Starting tomorrow, figure out your own living expenses. This family will not give you a single dime.” Mom helped Kevin up, guiding him toward his bedroom. As she reached his door, she turned around, her eyes cold. “Elijah, if you have any decency left in you, stop taking your anger out on your brother.” Right before closing his bedroom door, Kevin silently mouthed two words at me. Serves you right. 2 The next morning, Mom laid out four sets of place settings on the dining table. In front of Kevin sat fried eggs, crispy bacon, and a steaming bowl of fresh shrimp porridge. In front of me sat a single bowl of hard, leftover rice from two nights ago. Dad sat reading the morning newspaper, not even bothering to lift his head. “Since you want to be independent, it starts today.” Mom slid a crisp blue debit card next to Kevin’s hand. “Kevin, there’s five thousand dollars in here for your initial college supplies. If it’s not enough, just let Mom know.” Kevin offered a bright, sunshiny smile. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll make sure to spend it wisely.” After speaking, he deliberately turned his head toward me. “Elijah, do you want me to lend you a hundred bucks? You’ll have to write me an IOU, though. Independence means even brothers keep clear accounts.” Mom patted his shoulder in playful scolding. “Oh, stop teasing your brother.” I picked up the bowl of cold rice and swallowed a mouthful. The hard, dried grains scratched against my throat like coarse sand. Dad flipped his newspaper with a crisp snap. “Elijah, don’t feel mistreated. Hardship builds real character. You’ve always been tougher and more resilient than Kevin. Your mother and I trust you.” In my past life, that single phrase, “we trust you,” crushed me for four grueling years. I remembered the night I had a fever of a hundred and four degrees. I called Mom, asking if she could transfer fifty dollars so I could go to the urgent care clinic. She had said, “Elijah, you need to learn how to budget. Don’t come running to your family the second you run out of cash.” Right after she hung up, Kevin posted a photo on Instagram showing off a brand-new designer wool scarf. His caption read: Mom and Dad were worried I’d catch a cold, so they insisted on sending me two thousand dollars to buy something nice. At the breakfast table, Kevin casually stirred his porridge with a silver spoon. “Elijah, don’t be discouraged. The boba shop near my campus is hiring. You could go ask for a job.” Mom nodded in agreement. “Yes, part-time work builds great work ethic.” I set my bowl down. “Then Kevin can go build his work ethic too.” Kevin immediately pouted. “My course load is super heavy, and I’m joining the student union! Where would I find the time?” Dad slammed the newspaper onto the table. “He’s different from you. His health is delicate.” “He came in first place in the eight-hundred-meter dash at the school sports meet last month.” Silence descended upon the dining room. Mom frowned heavily. “Elijah, why are you always targeting your brother? His weak constitution isn’t news. As his older brother, do you have no empathy?” Kevin had been born a month premature, spending his first few weeks in an incubator. From that day forward, his “delicate health” became his lifelong free pass. He could steal my birthday cake because his delicate health made him crave sweets. He could rip up my academic competition certificates because his delicate health made his emotions fragile. He could blast his speakers at maximum volume the night before my SATs because his delicate health required relaxation. And if I so much as knitted my brow, I was labeled an ungrateful, heartless brother. The doorbell chimed. A delivery driver stood at the door, holding three massive cardboard boxes. “Delivery for Kevin.” Kevin practically leaped out of his chair, not even bothering to slip his shoes on properly. The boxes were sliced open to reveal a brand-new flagship phone, a top-tier tablet, designer sneakers, and a plush white cashmere coat. Mom helped him snip off the tags. “A young man out in the world shouldn’t be looked down upon.” Kevin waved his new phone right in front of my face. “Elijah, can you still use that ancient phone of yours? Isn’t the screen completely shattered?” My old phone was a hand-me-down Mom had replaced two years ago. The charging port was loose, and the battery died the moment it hit thirty percent. Before I could speak, Dad chimed in. “As long as it can make calls, it’s fine. Don’t fall prey to vanity.” Kevin slipped into the white cashmere coat, twirling around in front of the hallway mirror. “Does it look good?” Mom smiled so wide the corners of her eyes crinkled. “My boy looks handsome in anything.” I stood by the entryway, putting on my worn shoes, preparing to head out to print materials for my student loan application. Mom suddenly called out to me. “Elijah, give me your ID card.” “What for?” “Your father’s company needs to update employee dependent information.” In my past life, I handed my ID over without a second thought. Later, when the university audited financial aid applications, I searched my bags frantically but couldn’t find my ID, causing me to miss the deadline for the first round of grants. I looked at her outstretched palm. “I can just take a picture of it and send it to you.” Mom’s expression darkened instantly. “Guarding your ID against your own parents? Where is your conscience?” Dad walked out from his study. “Hand it over.” Kevin leaned against the doorframe, smirking playfully. “Elijah, you’re not afraid Mom and Dad are going to take out a high-interest loan in your name, are you? Have you been watching too many crime dramas?” Mom’s hand reached straight for my backpack strap. I took a step backward. “I’ll keep it myself.” Dad raised his arm and delivered a harsh, ringing slap across my face. My head snapped to the side, my ear ringing with a deafening buzz. Kevin covered his mouth, though his eyes sparkled with pure delight. Mom yanked my bag away, unzipping it and fishing out my ID card. “We raised you for eighteen years, and we can’t even hold onto your ID for a day?” She held the plastic card tightly between her fingers. I reached out to grab it back. Dad seized my wrist, his grip so brutally tight it felt as though he intended to crush my bones. “You dare fight back?” He snatched the ID from my hand and passed it to Mom. “Keep it safe. Don’t give it back until after he leaves for campus.” Mom turned and walked into her bedroom. Kevin strolled over to my side, whispering in a voice only I could hear. “Elijah, give up. The more you fight, the more Mom and Dad despise you.” He gently poked my burning, reddened cheek with his finger. “Look at that. What a lovely shade of red.” 3 On the third day after my ID card was confiscated, I visited the local community services office to inquire about a proof-of-hardship document. The clerk flipped through the official forms. “We need your official ID, your family household registry, and your parents’ proof of income.” I stood before the counter, my knuckles white as I gripped my backpack straps. “I don’t have my original ID on me right now. Can I use a photocopy of the household registry?” The middle-aged woman lifted her eyes. “Honey, these documents require physical verification of the originals. Are your parents refusing to give them to you?” An older man standing in line behind me glanced over. The pity on his face felt harder to stomach than blatant mockery. I lowered my head. “I’ll figure something out.” As I walked out of the building, Mom’s call flashed on my screen. “Where are you?” “At the community office.” Her voice spiked into a shrill screech. “What are you doing at a place like that? If the neighbors find out my son is applying for low-income assistance, where are your father and I supposed to hide our faces?” “I don’t have any money for food or supplies.” “Didn’t we tell you to be self-reliant?” “I need the hardship verification to process my federal student loans.” Silence hung on the line for a few seconds. Mom suppressed her fury, her tone icy. “Elijah, are you doing this on purpose just to humiliate us? Your father just got promoted to department head. If you go around begging for poverty certificates, what will his colleagues think of him?” So their fragile social standing mattered far more than my college education. Mom continued, “Get home right now. Kevin needs to buy suitcases, and you need to carry his bags.” I hung up the phone. A text message from Kevin popped up immediately. Elijah, Mom said you went to the community office to play the victim card? You really know how to throw a scene. The next text was a photo. He was standing in front of a luxury boutique fitting mirror, surrounded by designer shopping bags. Hurry up and get over here! I can’t carry all this stuff myself. I didn’t go. When I returned home late that afternoon, the living room was cluttered with new suitcases, clothes, and shoe boxes. Mom sat on the sofa, her face stormy. “I told you to help your brother carry his bags, and you couldn’t even pick up the phone.” Dad was sipping tea. “He hasn’t even set foot on a college campus yet, and his wings are already fully grown.” Kevin shrank into the corner of the couch, his eyes reddened. “Mom, Dad, don’t blame Elijah. He probably just thinks I spent too much money.” Mom’s heart melted instantly. “You’re spending your parents’ money, not his!” I glanced at the discarded price tags on the floor. A single jacket cost twelve hundred dollars. A single rolling suitcase cost fifteen hundred dollars. That money alone could have fed me through four years of college. Dad lifted his chin. “Come over here and apologize to Kevin.” “I did nothing wrong.” The heavy porcelain teacup slammed onto the glass table. “Your brother leaves for campus tomorrow! He wanted you to spend his last day at home with him, and you pull this arrogant attitude?” Kevin said softly, “Elijah, if you don’t want to apologize, forget it. I know you drew the zero-dollar card and feel it’s unfair.” Mom glared at me. “Kevin sticks up for you at every turn, and what do you do? Look at him like he’s your mortal enemy every single day!” I remained silent. Dad stood up, pulled a sheet of paper from the desk drawer, and threw it onto the table. “Since the rules were set, put it in writing.” The commitment letter was already printed out. The text stated that I voluntarily accepted the Zero Dollar Survival Challenge during my college years, pledged never to request living expenses from my parents, and promised that any personal financial difficulties would not affect the family’s normal life. At the bottom right was a line reserved for my signature. In my past life, I signed it. Dad had claimed it was just a harmless family ceremony. Later, when I collapsed in my dorm from severe stomach bleeding caused by starvation, my resident advisor called my parents. Dad simply texted a photo of this commitment letter to her. The boy is fiercely proud and insists on relying solely on himself. From that moment on, whenever my advisor looked at me, her eyes held only helpless disappointment. I pushed the paper back. “I’m not signing this.” Dad grabbed a wooden feather duster from the stand and whipped it hard across my calves. The summer shorts offered zero protection. A thick, burning red welt exploded across my skin instantly. Mom frowned slightly, but made no move to stop him. “Elijah, just sign it and be done with it. Why force your father to lose his temper?” Kevin began to sob softly. “It’s all my fault. Maybe I should just share half my allowance with Elijah.” Dad immediately turned to comfort him. “This has nothing to do with you.” When he turned back to face me, his features were twisted in pure disgust. “Look at your brother, and then look at yourself!” The second blow struck my leg. I bit my lip hard, refusing to flinch or step back. Dad was breathing heavily. “Are you signing it or not?” Footsteps sounded outside the front door as a neighbor walked by, pausing for a second. Mom immediately rushed over to pull the curtains shut. “Richard, keep your voice down!” So she wasn’t afraid of me being hurt. She was only afraid of the neighbors hearing. I picked up the pen from the table and pressed the tip onto the paper, tracing my name letter by letter. Elijah. The final stroke tore right through the paper. Kevin wiped his tears, walked over from the sofa, and picked up the signed commitment letter. “Elijah, your handwriting is really nice.” He handed it to Dad with a sweet smile. “Dad, keep this somewhere safe, or Elijah might try to back out later.” Dad folded the paper neatly and placed it in the deepest compartment of his desk drawer. The lock clicked shut. 4 On the day move-in started, Kevin left in Dad’s car. The trunk was packed to the brim with luggage, and the passenger seat held a three-tier custom bento box Mom had spent all morning preparing. My entire life was packed into a single, frayed canvas duffel bag. Inside were two sets of worn clothes, a pair of faded sneakers, and the twenty-dollar bill Mom had tossed at me the night before. “For your bus fare and first week of meals,” she had said. “Make it last.” Kevin leaned out of the car window, grinning. “Elijah, your campus is only two subway stops away from mine! Come visit me on the weekends!” Mom added quickly, “Elijah, make sure you check on your brother when you have time. He’s on his own for the first time, and we’re worried about him.” I stood by the entrance of our residential complex, clutching my canvas bag. The scorching sun turned the concrete ground blindingly white. Dad honked the horn impatiently. “Take the city bus. Don’t waste money on a taxi.” As the car pulled away, Kevin waved his hand out the window. The brand-new watch on his wrist caught the sunlight, flashing painfully into my eyes. The registration line at my university was miles long. When it was finally my turn, the senior student handling my paperwork paused, looking over my file. “You haven’t paid your tuition, housing fees, or textbook fees yet.” “Can I request a deferment? I’m applying for federal student loans, but my paperwork is still being processed.” The senior looked helplessly at the resident advisor standing nearby. Her name was Ms. Harper, a woman in her early thirties who spoke in a calm, deliberate tone. “Process his orientation first. Give him a week to clear the balance.” Just as I breathed a sigh of relief, a girl standing behind me let out a quiet chuckle. “Oh, so you’re Elijah!” I turned around to see a girl holding her phone, displaying a screenshot of Kevin’s recent social media post. In the photo, Kevin sat on his plush dorm bed, captioned: My brother started his Zero Dollar Challenge today too! I hope he doesn’t struggle too hard. Mom and Dad said this is the best form of character building for him. In the comments section, someone asked: They really aren’t giving him a single dime? Your parents are brutal. Kevin replied: My brother wants to prove his independence, so we’re respecting his choice! I stared at those words, my fingertips turning icy cold. The girl scanned my worn canvas bag from top to bottom. “Pretty inspiring story.” Another guy joined in. “People still manufacture these self-reliant personas nowadays? He’s not just trying to scam the school for hardship grants, is he?” Ms. Harper frowned, her voice turning stern. “Students, refrain from baseless gossip.” The guy shrugged. “His own brother posted it, Ms. Harper. It’s not like I made it up.” That evening, I was making my bed in my six-person dorm room. My five roommates had already set up black-out bed curtains, desk organizers, and sleek storage units. My bed frame was completely bare. Even the thin mattress topper was a discarded item left behind by a senior. One of my roommates, Jason, offered me a bag of chips. “Want some?” I shook my head. “Thanks, I’m good.” He glanced at my exposed legs. “What happened to your calf?” The dark red welt hadn’t faded yet. I pulled my pant leg down. “Just scraped it.” The dorm door suddenly swung open. Kevin stood at the threshold holding two cups of expensive boba tea, flanked by three guys from his own campus. “Elijah, I came to see you!” He placed one of the boba cups on my desk. “I bought you the cheapest item on the menu. That doesn’t count as breaking your challenge rules, right?” The guys behind him burst into snickers. One of them stared at my empty bed in genuine shock. “Dude, did you seriously not buy anything at all?” Kevin sighed dramatically. “My brother has immense pride. Mom and Dad tried to give him money, but he flat-out refused.” I lifted my head and looked him dead in the eye. “When did Mom and Dad ever try to give me money?” He blinked, putting on an innocent look. “Elijah, don’t be like that. Didn’t you sign the commitment letter yourself?” The room went dead silent. Kevin pulled out his phone, tapping the screen to reveal a high-resolution photo. It was the commitment letter. My signature was crystal clear. The photo had been taken on Dad’s mahogany study desk. Kevin showed his phone to Jason. “My brother insists on relying entirely on himself. I honestly respect him so much for it.” Jason’s expression shifted awkwardly, and he didn’t take the phone. Kevin walked over to my desk, lowering his voice to a whisper. “If you’re really desperate for cash, you can do my laundry. I’ll pay you per piece.” I looked at his neatly styled hair. “Did you come all the way to my campus just to say this?” “Of course not.” He smiled, nudging the boba tea closer to my hand. “Mom told me to pass along a message. Don’t go around airing family business at school. It’s embarrassing.” With that, he turned to leave. As he reached the door, he paused as if suddenly remembering something. “Oh right, Elijah, Mom said she’s keeping your ID card for now so you don’t lose it. If you need anything processed, just tell me, and I’ll beg her on your behalf.” The door clicked shut. Silence hung heavy over the dorm. Condensation dripped down the plastic cup of boba tea, slowly soaking into my unpaid tuition invoice on the desk. 5 During my first week, I landed a job washing dishes in the back kitchen of the campus cafeteria. Seven to ten every night, fifteen dollars an hour, plus a free meal of leftover food. After soaking my hands in greasy water for three hours straight, my fingernails reeked of harsh dish soap. On Friday night, Kevin sent me a text. Elijah, come over to my campus right now. I didn’t reply. He called me immediately. “If you don’t come, I’ll tell Mom to contact your resident advisor.” Background noise blasted through the speaker, music, laughter, and shouting. I took off my apron and caught the last subway line to his campus. Kevin was waiting outside his dormitory building, wearing his plush white cashmere coat. Two massive shopping bags sat at his feet. “I don’t want these clothes anymore. Take them, wash them, and list them on a secondhand app for me.” “I don’t have time.” His brow creased instantly. “Elijah, why are you so selfish? I’m busy running for the student union arts department. I don’t have time to deal with this junk.” “Then throw them away.” Kevin’s voice spiked into a shrill tone. “These are designer clothes! They’re expensive!” I turned around to walk away. He snatched my forearm, his grip tight. “Don’t forget, your ID card is still with Mom.” My footsteps stopped. Kevin offered a smug, triumphant smile. “I know you need to apply for student loans, and I know you haven’t paid your housing fees yet. Elijah, handle these clothes for me, and I might say a few nice words to Mom for you.” He shoved the heavy bags into my arms. “Be obedient. It’s good for you.” It was almost eleven at night when I returned to my dorm. The night monitor at the front desk frowned as she saw me lugging two huge shopping bags inside. “Back this late?” I lowered my head and murmured an apology. The moment I entered the room, Jason popped his head out from his bunk. “Working late again?” I stowed the bags beneath my desk. “Yeah.” The top of one bag wasn’t tied properly, exposing a brand-new cashmere coat with its price tag still attached. My other roommate, Marcus, caught sight of it and smirked. “Thought you were doing the Zero Dollar Challenge? Buying eighteen-hundred-dollar coats now?” “It’s not mine.” He clearly didn’t believe me. “Your brother posted on Instagram saying you’re helping him sell his old clothes and keeping the cash. Man, you really know how to find loopholes in your own challenge.” I pulled out my phone. Kevin had posted a new update thirty minutes ago. My brother works so hard! I gave him my unworn clothes to sell so he can earn extra cash. He says this is true self-reliance. The attached photo was a shot of my back as I walked away lugging those two massive bags. The comment section was filled with people praising his unmatched kindness. Your brother is so lucky to have a younger brother like you! I placed my phone face down on the desk. The next morning, I washed the clothes, hung them to dry, and took photos for the listing. While checking the pockets of one coat, a crumpled paper receipt fell out. Payer: Freya Shen. Amount: $1,890. Date of Purchase: The exact day I visited the community office for hardship verification. On the back of the receipt, a line was written in blue ink. Elijah’s tuition money. No rush. Let Kevin use it first. It was my mother’s handwriting. I stared at those words for a very long time. So it wasn’t that my family was broke. My tuition money had literally been stolen to buy a coat for Kevin. Monday morning, inside the advisor’s office. Ms. Harper placed the tuition notice before me. “The university can only extend your deadline by three more days.” I nodded. “I’m trying to raise the funds, Ms. Harper.” “Your family…” Before she could finish her sentence, the office door pushed open. Mom stood at the entrance, a polite, refined smile plastered across her face. “Ms. Harper, I am so sorry. Elijah has been causing you so much trouble.” She was dressed impeccably, holding an expensive fruit basket in her hand. Ms. Harper paused, surprised. “You are Elijah’s mother?” Mom placed the fruit basket neatly on the desk. “Yes. Our family isn’t facing any financial distress, but Elijah has been stubborn since he was a boy, insisting on earning his own keep. His father has been sick with worry over this.” I stood beside them, feeling as if my clothes had been stripped away in public. Ms. Harper turned to look at me. “Elijah, is this true?” Underneath the desk, Mom reached out and pinched my wrist with brutal force. Her sharp fingernails dug deep into my flesh. “Elijah, explain everything to your advisor clearly. Don’t let people misunderstand your father and me.” I stared at her manicured hand. That very hand had posted a picture of Kevin’s new grand piano in the family group chat just last night. My lips trembled. Mom’s fingernails dug a little deeper. “Yes,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. Mom smiled with utter satisfaction. “Ms. Harper, he just loves to push himself too hard. Of course we will pay his tuition, but since he insisted on taking this challenge, as parents, we wanted to respect his independence.” Ms. Harper fell completely silent. Before leaving, Mom leaned close to my ear, her voice dripping with venom. “If you dare play the poor victim out in public again, I will make sure you lose your dorm room.” After she left, Ms. Harper pushed the fruit basket back toward me. “Take it.” I didn’t move. The autumn wind outside the window fluttered the corner of the unpaid tuition notice. Ms. Harper suddenly asked, “Elijah, is something going on at home?” My throat felt locked shut. My phone vibrated on the desk. A photo from Mom popped up. My ID card was pressed firmly under the signed commitment letter. Below it was a text: Think carefully before you open your mouth again. Right at that moment, another text notification popped up from an unknown number. Elijah, this is Mrs. Jenkins, your late grandmother’s neighbor. You’re eighteen now, and there are things that belong to you that need to be returned. Don’t tell your parents. Meet me tomorrow at 3 PM at the old Elm Street cottage.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “599300”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel
Leave a Reply