My Mom’s Secret Identity From the moment I could remember, Mom and I played the death game many times. The first time I found her lying motionless, without even breathing, I was so scared I broke down and cried. Gradually, I learned Mom was just teasing me, and I stopped being afraid. The cemetery was somber and silent. Beside a newly dug grave, a coffin lay still. Everyone was crying, except for me. I looked at the national flag draped over her coffin and thought: “She’s really going all out this time, even Dad’s putting on quite a show.” The coffin slowly descended into the grave, and uncontrollable sobs erupted from the crowd. I tugged on Dad’s hand and asked: “Is the game over? I want to go back and wait for Mom now.” Dad held me, tears streaming down his face. “Skylar, Mom isn’t coming back.” I touched the military dog tag around my neck and shook my head. “Mom said she’d be back.” But no one believed me, everyone said I was sick. Soon after, Dad brought a woman home, saying she was my new mother. But Mom was still alive, I saw her. If Dad didn’t believe me, I’d find Mom myself.
Rain tapped against the black umbrellas, a dull, continuous sound. The cemetery was a sea of solemn black. Suppressed sobs came from all directions, everyone’s eyes red-rimmed. Dad’s back had hunched significantly, his shoulders trembling, tears falling. This time, the game was a big production; even Uncle Mark, who we rarely saw, was there. Uncle Mark knelt down and put Mom’s dog tag around my neck. “Skylar, this is the only thing your mom left behind. Keep it safe.” Shovel after shovel of dirt fell, covering the flag. Everyone was immersed in grief. Except for me. I was waiting for Mom to suddenly jump out from a corner, laugh, pick me up, and spin me around, saying: “Gotcha! My Skylar is so brave!” I’d played this game too many times. Under the bed, inside the closet, and once, Mom even hid in an old trunk in the attic. Every time, I found her, and we’d roll around laughing. Mom would always say: “Skylar wins hide-and-seek again!” So, this time was no different. Even if it was all very formal, with a lot of people involved. But this had to be just part of the game, a new rule Mom set to make it more realistic. After everyone had left, I asked Dad: “Is the game over? I want to go back and wait for Mom now.” Dad pulled me into his arms, holding me a little too tightly. His voice was hoarse: “Skylar, Mom isn’t coming back.” I looked at the tombstone, stubbornly arguing: “Mom will come back when the game is over.” “There’s no game anymore…” Dad’s hands tightened abruptly, “Mom sacrificed herself! She’s gone! She’s never coming back!” I was held so tightly I couldn’t breathe. I thought Dad must have forgotten the rules of the game, so I pushed his shoulder to remind him. “But, Dad, what they buried was Mom’s uniform, not Mom herself.” Dad’s sobbing stopped abruptly, as if something had choked him. He opened his mouth, his lips trembling violently, but not a single word came out. Just then, Uncle Mark, who had given me the dog tag, called Dad aside. The rain was heavy, but I strained my ears and still heard Uncle Mark’s words. “The blast radius was too close, too fragmented. There was nothing left to put back together.” “Only her combat uniform was found, barely pieced together.” “Robert, that’s all there is. Please accept our condolences.”
I listened, stunned. I knew what death was. Mom used to say: “Death is becoming a bright star in the sky, but Mom can’t touch my Skylar, or hug my Skylar anymore.” So, death meant no longer being able to touch or hug. Dad believed Mom was dead, and from then on, he could never hug her again. That’s why, when he could barely stand, he pulled a woman into a tight embrace. Dad was sad for a month, the sorrow gradually fading from his face. One day, Michelle moved into our house with her son, Leo, who was two years younger than me. “Skylar, say Mom.” Dad took my hand, trying to get me to go closer to Michelle. I kept my mouth tightly shut, stubbornly staring at the floor, shaking my head. “I only have one mom, and she’s playing a very long game of hide-and-seek.” Michelle looked a little awkward and quickly stepped in to defuse the awkwardness: “It’s alright, it’s alright. Just call me Michelle.” Dad took me to a psychologist, who said I had PTSD. I put the pills in my mouth in front of Dad, but as soon as he left, I spit them into the toilet. “It’s the grown-ups who need medicine, not me.” I watched the swirling water, thinking, “I’m not sick. You’re all just too stupid; Mom fooled all of you. You have no idea how clever she is.” After a while, Dad found out I wasn’t taking my medicine. “Skylar Stone! Why aren’t you taking your pills!” His voice trembled with anger, “Do you want to keep living in this delusional world?” I just looked at him silently, completely unwavering. The standoff ended with Dad slamming the door and leaving. Dad’s patience, worn thin by repeated failures, increasingly turned towards Leo. Listening to Leo share stories about school, taking Leo to the company, giving Leo tasks. The plan to groom me as his successor, once showered upon me, had quietly shifted its target. I didn’t like Leo because he always ran into my room and messed with my things. When I told Dad, he just said: “He’s just a kid, Skylar. You’re the older sister; you need to be more patient with him.” Leo broke the last model Mom and I had built together, and I flew into a rage, screaming at him to get out of our house. Dad’s scolding was harsher than I’d ever heard. “Skylar Stone! How can you treat your brother like that! Go to your room! No dinner for you tonight!” It was the first time Dad had punished me for someone else. I became increasingly withdrawn. Often, I’d stay in my room alone, caressing the dog tag around my neck, staring out the window for long periods. Dad looked at my mediocre grades on my report card, and the disappointment in his eyes grew stronger. He stopped inviting me to the dinners I used to attend; only Leo’s outfits were prepared. That day, Dad came home very late. As soon as he opened the door, I heard his laughter with Michelle, and Leo’s triumphant voice. “Dad, everyone says I have your style.” Dad ruffled Leo’s hair: “Of course, you’re my son. The company will be yours someday; you’re much stronger than your sister.” After saying that, he saw me sitting silently in the living room. A flicker of awkwardness crossed Dad’s face. “Skylar, you’re still up this late?” I nodded: “Came out for water.” “Dad, I was so good today, can I have a reward?” Leo’s voice was bright and clear. Dad’s gaze immediately turned to Leo, his eyes filled with doting affection: “What do you want? Dad will get you anything.” Leo pointed at me: “That! That tag around my sister’s neck!”
Dad’s smile froze instantly. I clutched the dog tag tightly, taking a step back, watching them with wary eyes. “Leo, that’s something very important to your sister.” Dad’s tone was hesitant, “Dad will buy you the newest remote control plane, or Legos, alright?” “No! I want that! That tag is pretty!” Leo stomped his feet impatiently, running over and reaching out to snatch my dog tag. “Get away!” I shoved Leo away. Caught off guard, Leo stumbled backward, hitting his elbow on the corner of the coffee table, and burst into tears. Michelle immediately rushed forward to comfort Leo, heartbroken: “Skylar, Leo is just a child, how could you hit him?” Dad lunged forward, pointing at my nose and yelling: “Skylar Stone! What do you think you’re doing! Apologize to your brother immediately!” I glared at Dad, refusing to back down: “He’s not touching Mom’s things!” “Give it to me!” Dad was completely enraged, he commanded sternly, “Take that dog tag off and give it to Leo!” I looked at Dad in disbelief, screaming: “Why? This is what Mom left for me! Have you forgotten Mom?” “You were already holding another woman before she was even officially gone!” “Now you’re even going to give the only thing she left me to that son of yours?” “Shut up!” Dad roared. A loud slap landed heavily on my face. My cheek instantly turned red and swollen, burning with pain. A flicker of regret crossed Dad’s eyes. He stepped forward, trying to grab me. I dodged, looking at him with an utterly unfamiliar gaze. Dad’s fingers curled inward, his voice stiff: “You always live in a fantasy world. One day, you’ll regret it.” I ran back to my room, slamming the door shut. The stinging sensation of the slap still lingered on Dad’s palm; he couldn’t sit still. Michelle patted Dad’s shoulder: “If you’re worried, go check on her.” Dad shook his head: “It’s good for her to face reality; she can’t keep living in the past and in her imagination. Leave her be. A few days of cold shoulder will do her good. She’ll come back and apologize.” The next morning, I didn’t come out for breakfast. Michelle said: “Should I bring Skylar some food in her room?” “No.” Dad said sternly, “Skylar is too willful. Don’t spoil her; she needs to learn that talking back to elders has consequences.” On the third morning, I still didn’t appear. Dad thought I was still sulking and didn’t pay much attention. During a meeting, he saw my name on the caller ID. To teach me a lesson, he hung up directly. It wasn’t until the fourth day that Michelle hesitated and said: “Skylar’s room has been quiet, and her food hasn’t been touched.” Only then did Dad unlock the door. The room was empty. “She must have run off to a friend’s house! Didn’t even say when she was leaving! She’s getting more and more out of line!” Dad furiously called several of my friends, but got no information. The next moment, the school called: “Is this Skylar Stone’s father? Skylar hasn’t been to class for three days. Is something wrong at home?” Dad’s face went white, instantly panicking. After hanging up, he immediately dialed my number. The phone rang for a long time before it was answered. On the other end, a flippant male voice spoke: “Oh? Finally remembered you have a daughter, huh? Mr. Stone, you must be so busy, can’t even get through to you.” A wave of ice washed over Dad. His voice trembled: “Who are you? Where’s my daughter?”
“Your daughter, you ask?” The man drew out his words, as if savoring Dad’s fear, “Hard to say. We wanted to discuss a price, but couldn’t reach you. My buddies got annoyed, nowhere to vent their frustration, so we had to… tsk tsk.” Dad suddenly remembered that because he was angry at me these past few days, he had even hung up on my calls. Later, he was busy taking Leo to a father-son event and completely forgot about it. Dad’s vision went black, and he almost collapsed into the chair, swallowed by a massive wave of fear. “Let me talk to my daughter! I want to see her! Video call now!” Dad practically screamed, his words incoherent, “I’ll give you any amount of money! Don’t hurt my daughter! Please!” “Video call, huh? Might not be too convenient right now.” The man’s voice was like a cat toying with its prey. “Mr. Stone, just get the money ready first. We’ll be in touch…” Just then, the keypad on the front door beeped, then clicked open. Dad abruptly looked up, and there, in the hallway, I stood, disheveled. I was filthy, my clothes torn in several places. My hair was a mess, and my face was smudged with dirt and tiny scratches. The kidnapper on the phone was still saying something, but Dad couldn’t hear a word. He hung up immediately and practically lunged to embrace me. “Skylar! You scared your father to death! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did those bastards do anything to you?” He urgently wanted to check me over. The thought of the kidnapper calling Dad in front of me, only to be repeatedly hung up on, flashed through my mind. I sharply took a step back, evading his touch, my gaze cold. Dad’s hands froze in mid-air. After the initial surge of emotion, questions flooded his mind: “How did you get back?” I said calmly: “Mom saved me.” As those five words left my mouth, the excitement on Dad’s face instantly drained away. It turned cold, his eyes filled with revulsion. “Skylar Stone! How long are you going to keep this charade up?” “You staged a kidnapping! Had your accomplices make those calls to me!” “Do you think this is fun? To get back at me this way? To get my attention?” Dad looked down at me, like he was looking at trash. “I never imagined you could be so manipulative! How dare you even use your mother as an excuse for your lies!” “Aren’t you afraid she’d be heartbroken watching you from above?” “You’ve truly disappointed me.” Dad’s accusations crashed down on me, but I didn’t feel the sting or anger I once did. Even as he roared, I slightly tilted my head, distinguishing a faint sound in the distance. “Dad, I saw Mom. I even hugged her.” My voice was soft, my heart filled with surging joy, leaving no room for other emotions. Dad froze for a moment, then grew even angrier. “Get back to your room! I don’t want to see you anymore! You’re truly insane! You scare me!” Whether Dad believed me or not, it no longer mattered at all. My lips curled into a faint smile. I found Mom.
From that day on, I completely changed. I no longer showed any emotion regarding my father’s neglect or Leo’s favoritism. I became silent and focused, with a clear goal. I put away all my leisure books. My desk piled high with thick workbooks and military academy recruitment brochures. My desk lamp often burned late into the night. My grades soared at an astonishing speed, jumping from mid-class to the top ranks of my grade, eventually settling at the very top. Dad noticed the change. Amidst his surprise, he secretly breathed a sigh of relief, even feeling a sense of “I knew it.” He believed that his previous neglect, and the act of funneling all resources and attention to Leo, had finally spurred my competitive spirit. Making me turn from my misguided path and realize I needed to strive for success. He was very pleased. At the dinner table, Dad began to casually bring up company matters. He even proactively asked for my opinion on certain business cases. Though he didn’t explicitly say it, his intention was clear. He had reconsidered me as a potential successor. I hadn’t expected this subtle shift to trigger Michelle’s most sensitive nerves. She had painstakingly worked to establish herself in this family, finally succeeding in getting Dad to pour all his efforts into her son. With victory seemingly in sight, she wouldn’t allow me to re-enter the race. My important study materials would mysteriously disappear, only for me to find them later in the trash can. The night before my college entrance exams, the air conditioner in my room conveniently broke. Its incessant buzzing made sleep impossible, and the repairman was unreachable. Once, the milk she brought me tasted off. I didn’t pretend not to notice; I quietly got up and poured it down the drain. I calmly avoided all these petty tricks. I didn’t tell Dad, not out of forbearance, but purely because I felt it was a waste of time. My goal was higher and further, and I had no interest in participating in such domestic squabbles. Until one day, I intercepted a recommendation letter Michelle had altered, mimicking Dad’s handwriting. The person recommended to study at a top business school abroad had been changed from me to Leo. I didn’t go to Dad to cry about it. Instead, I directly confronted Michelle with the recommendation letter. Michelle’s face instantly went ashen, but she tried to appear calm: “Skylar, what are you doing with that?” “Michelle,” I said calmly, “You don’t need to do these useless things anymore.” “I have no interest in Dad’s company; I won’t compete with Leo for anything.”
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