Mom loved to distill her parenting philosophy into rules. My older sister, Aria, was raised as a little princess. Mom always called her “baby,” and she grew up spoiled. When I was born, Mom assigned me a different label: the last four digits of my Social Security Number, 2328. She believed that a name stripped of emotional attachment would forge an independent personality. For twenty years, to her, I was 2328. Then, on Christmas Day, I brought my boyfriend home. When he called me “baby” over dinner, my mother slammed her cup onto the floor. “How dare you call her that? Her name is 2328!” “I ruined Aria by calling her ‘baby.’ I won’t let you ruin Serena, too!” “Baby, let me peel a shrimp for you.” Before Kyle could finish, Mom’s cup hit the floor with a crack. “What did you just call her?” Kyle froze. He looked from me to my mom, utterly confused. “‘Baby’…What’s wrong?” “Baby?” Mom’s voice shot up an octave. “Her name is 2328!” I watched Kyle’s expression morph from confusion to pure bewilderment. Under the table, I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. With a sigh, I turned to Mom and said softly. “Mom, let’s just eat. It’s only a nickname.” “It’s not only a nickname.” She straightened up, settling into her lecturing posture. My hands clenched. Here we go again. “I called her sister ‘baby’ from the day she was born. I spoiled her. She turned out rotten. I learned from my mistake. When Serena was born, I did it right. I’ve called her by the last four digits of her Social Security Number ever since.” Mom’s eyes locked onto Kyle. “So please, call Serena by 2328.” The living room fell into dead silence. Kyle swallowed awkwardly. Aria emerged from the bedroom, her pocket still stuffed with the money Mom had secretly slipped her when she thought I wasn’t watching. “Mom, you’re scaring him.” She drifted over to Kyle, her tone light and explanatory. “Don’t take it personally. My mom is just…very dedicated to her parenting theories.” “Look at me. She called me ‘baby’ my whole life, and look how I turned out. Still trying to kick all the bad habits she baked into me.” “So with 2328 here, Mom doesn’t allow names. No nicknames. Just the last four digits. It’s her foolproof method.” “She says it prevents dependency and builds character.” Aria let out a laugh that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m basically her living cautionary tale.” Her mock-pitiful tone made me dig my nails into my palm. Mom seized the moment to drag me into the bedroom. “What’s wrong with you?” She looked at me with scrutiny. “I worked so hard to raise you as an independent woman, and you turn around and become some man’s pampered wife?” “He just called me ‘baby’ once.” I kept my voice as calm as possible. “Mom, you can’t expect everyone around me to call me 2328, can you? It makes me uncomfortable…” “What’s uncomfortable about it?” Her eyes were cold as ice. “I sacrificed your sister as my parenting experiment. All the failed lessons I learned from her, I corrected with you. You got the better deal!” “Better deal?” I looked up at her. “So calling me by a number, forcing me into emotional isolation, making me feel unloved-that’s for my own good?” Mom’s eyes widened. Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ve raised two children. Don’t I know better than you?” “Only by making you emotionally independent of others can you become strong and self-reliant.” I watched her stubborn expression, suddenly feeling deflated. Before bringing my boyfriend home, I’d joked that my family had some “special rules.” He’d laughed and ruffled my hair. “How special could it be? They’re not going to ban me from eating, right?” I’d thought Mom would set aside those ridiculous rules for my boyfriend’s first visit. I bit my lip and looked straight into Mom’s eyes. “Mom, are these rules of yours really for my own good?”
Memories poured out like a broken faucet, unstoppable. On my first day of preschool at age three, I asked Mom in confusion. “Mommy, the teacher says my name is Serena. Why do you always call Aria ‘baby’ but call me 2328?” Mom looked at me, enunciating each word. “To me, you’re 2328. Don’t get all sentimental about it.” I didn’t understand. I just nodded blankly. When I was five, Aria beat up a neighborhood kid for taking her toy. Mom paid two thousand dollars in medical bills, then immediately set a new rule for me. “2328, from now on, if someone hits you, don’t hit back. Just come tell me.” I remembered. After a bully pushed me off the slide and I scraped my knee badly, I held back tears and went home. Mom disinfected my wound while asking. “Why did he push you? Did you provoke him?” I opened my mouth, but seeing Mom’s interrogating look, I didn’t dare speak. Turns out Mom didn’t tell me not to fight back so she could defend me-she just didn’t want me causing her trouble. At thirteen, Aria became obsessed with fashion. Mom bought her dress after dress, accessory after accessory. Aria grew increasingly materialistic, narcissistic like a proud princess. Seeing this, Mom immediately cut up all the clothes in my closet, leaving only two T-shirts and pairs of pants. “Look at Aria, all she cares about is appearance. You need to focus entirely on studying.” The result? I was mocked and isolated for three years for my shabby, outdated clothes. When Aria reached senior year, Mom hired her a private tutor at three hundred dollars an hour. She forced Aria into college. The day the acceptance letter arrived, Mom said to me. “See? Aria relied too much on tutoring. She lost her ability to study independently-that’s why she didn’t get into a top 10 university.” She dragged me home from school and locked me in my room, forcing me to “study independently.” I ended up only getting into community college. “Community college is great-practical. Your sister’s school costs thirty to forty thousand a year. You’re better off learning a trade.” During Aria’s four years of college, she posted daily on social media about dinners, trips, and the living expenses Mom sent her. Mom liked every post while messaging me. “Aria is wasting her time. Mom applied for student loans for you. You’ll pay them back yourself-that way you’ll value your education.” So during school, I worked three jobs. I graduated with thirty-six thousand dollars in debt. Meanwhile, Mom paid all of Aria’s tuition and living expenses. All I got was: “2328, you’re so much more independent than your sister. You never make Mom worry.” For over twenty years, Mom used Aria as her educational “experiment.” She pampered and protected Aria, doing everything to elevate Aria’s life. Yet she constantly told others she’d “ruined” Aria. And me? I was the “lucky one” who benefited from her timely course correction. Aria’s bright confidence became “vanity.” Aria’s carefree attitude became “irresponsibility.” Aria’s sense of security became “spoiled willfulness.” Meanwhile, my timidity, insecurity, and frugality got repackaged as maturity and self-reliance. “Mom learned from all her mistakes with Aria and corrected everything with you.” “Look how well you turned out. You never make Mom worry.” My life was severely pruned and trimmed. But unlike Aria, I never received love’s nourishment. “How is this not for your own good?” Mom shot back, looking at me like I was ungrateful. “Mom, I don’t want to be called 2328. I want someone to call me ‘baby’ too. Buy me a dress. Stand up for me once. I want to be cherished just once…” Mom’s expression froze. “I practiced so much on your sister and gave you all the right methods. Now you got the better deal and you’re complaining?” Her lips trembled, her eyes filled with warning and anger. Aria entered the bedroom, glancing at us. “2328, your boyfriend is so rude. He just up and left.”
By the time I reached the living room, it was empty. Kyle had gone. Only a text message remained. “Serena, I’m heading home. Please don’t fight with your mom on my account. Your family rules are…unique. I need some time to think..” I stared at those words, my thumb hovering over the reply box. I typed a single word. “Okay.” What else could I say? Explain why my mother made such rules for me? Explain why those rules only applied to me? Being unloved was obvious. I turned to go back. Uncle Robert’s laughter reached me first. In the living room, Mom and Aria were already seated at the dining table. “Rachel, don’t worry. I’ve got Aria’s transfer covered.” Robert patted his chest. “The HR director at her company is my high school buddy. Moving her to an easier position is just a phone call away.” Mom beamed. “That’s wonderful. You know Aria’s lazy. Her current position is too demanding, and she has to work night shifts.” After graduating, Mom pulled strings everywhere to get Aria into the city’s largest state-owned enterprise. After just a few years, Aria constantly complained about the work being too hard. But from what I knew, the so-called night shift only came once a month. And it was just from 6 PM to 11 PM. Five hours of work, and Aria complained endlessly. She insisted Mom find connections to transfer her to a cushy position with good pay and little work. Robert set down his wine glass and suddenly turned to me. “By the way, Ser-” He nearly blurted it out, then glanced at Mom and quickly corrected himself. “2328, what company are you working for now?” My throat tightened. “A small private company. I do operations.” “A small company?” Robert’s voice rose. “Why not have your mom pull some strings too? Get into a big company-easier work, better benefits. Look at Aria, how comfortable she is.” Mom held her rice bowl, watching me with satisfaction. She opened her mouth with that familiar backhanded compliment. “Oh, 2328 doesn’t need anyone to worry about her. She’s the hardworking type, unlike her lazy sister.” “She works so hard, staying at the office until 10 PM every night. That’s a good place to develop character.” My hand gripped the fork tightly. Back when I had trouble finding work due to my education, I’d struggled to land this job. I worked desperately at the company not because I loved hardship-it was because I had no connections, no backing. The only way was to sell my time and labor in the most basic way to earn a little more. When I got sick with a fever after a week of overtime, Mom just made a brief phone call. “2328, you’re an adult now. Buy your own medicine when you’re sick. Young people need to work harder to get noticed by the boss.” But when Aria got varicose veins from sitting at her desk, Mom went to massage her legs daily, applying expensive ointments. Now she was even asking Robert to transfer Aria to an easier position. I laughed bitterly inside, feeling suffocated. “No need. My current job is fine.” My voice was dry. Back in the bedroom, I closed the door. I pulled out my phone and opened my manager’s chat. “Manager, I’ll take the three-year transfer to the branch office.” The branch was in Alaska. It was newly established and needed people to develop business. But Alaska was three thousand miles from home. And it was a three-year commitment. No one wanted this difficult assignment. I’d initially refused too. I didn’t want to leave home. I wanted to stay close to Mom to take care of her more easily. I also didn’t want to be separated from Kyle. But now, there seemed no need. Message sent. I wiped my face. After a long while, someone knocked on the door.
“2328, come out and sweep the living room. Don’t hole up in your room on Christmas.” I gripped the broom, looking at Aria scrolling on her phone on the couch. “Just me?” I asked. “Aria can’t do anything right. You expect her to help?” Mom walked over and patted my shoulder. “You do a bit more, and people will praise you for being diligent and sensible. Mom’s building your reputation.” Same as always. Seemingly criticizing Aria, but completely exempting her from work. I felt numb inside, mechanically starting to sweep. “Oh, I need to tell you something.” Mom’s expression was deliberately casual. “The demolition notice came through for our old house.” I stopped moving. Aria looked up from her phone. “They’re compensating us with two commercial apartments on Oceanview Road.” “Mom thought about it. One will be transferred to my name, one to Aria’s name.” The air suddenly went quiet. Only the exaggerated music from the TV remained. “I don’t get one?” I heard my voice ring out awkwardly in the living room. “It’s close to your sister’s company but far from yours. Even if I gave it to you, it wouldn’t be convenient.” Mom spoke quickly, as if afraid I’d ask more questions. “Besides, after I’m gone, the one in my name will go to you two sisters anyway.” My hands trembled uncontrollably as I gripped the broom. For the first time, I abandoned decorum and asked directly. “Then why not transfer the one in your name to me?” Mom clearly hadn’t expected me to ask such a “shameless” question. She paused, then grew angry. “Your sister is careless. If you don’t take care of me either, don’t I need to keep something for security?” I lowered my eyes and laughed softly. “Didn’t you always say you raised me to be sensible and obedient? Are you afraid I won’t take care of you in old age?” Mom froze, her shoulders tensing. “You have a boyfriend now. Who knows if you’ll be led astray?” Her voice climbed to a shrill pitch. Aria watched from the sidelines, a spectator to the scene. “If I give you the house, what’s to stop you from turning around and handing it to some random men?” “Besides, it’s thanks to your sister’s example that I knew how to raise you properly. You owe your upbringing to her. Compensating her now is only fair. What’s your problem with that?” In that moment, my blood turned to ice. No matter how unjust her favoritism was, she could always wrap it in the language of fairness. In her mind, twisted logic simply became justified reasoning. I threw the broom to the floor, my words sharp and deliberate. “Well, you can stop worrying. After today, Kyle said he can’t handle us. We’re done.” “That man was never good enough for you anyway.” Mom turned away, already moving on. “Disrespecting our family rules on his first visit? He has no breeding.” “What rules? Rules to keep me in line?” My voice cut through the air, sharper and louder than I’d intended. Aria finally stood up from the couch, awkwardly trying to smooth things over. “2328, Mom is just being protective. She’s cautious for you.” “Look at your attitude!” Mom pointed at me. “After all I did to raise you, you talk to me like this? Over one apartment?” I looked at them both, feeling completely like an outsider. Right. Just one apartment. Like when I was little, it was just a nickname. Just one piece of clothing. Just tuition money. Growing up, it was just a job. Just an apartment. Just never being the favorite. A bitter laugh escaped me, leaving me chilled to the bone. I went to my room and started packing my few belongings. My mother watched, a mocking smile playing on her lips. “Where exactly will you go? All the hotels are closed.” I dragged my suitcase to the door, my voice flat and final. “Wherever it is, it won’t be back here. Not ever.”
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