On Christmas Eve, I was forced to brave the bitter cold to deliver food, all in an attempt to earn money for my father’s medical treatment. As I handed the delivery to a customer around my age, he suddenly tipped the cake over. “What kind of delivery service is this? Do you know this cake was specially made for me by my mom?” he snapped. I was about to retort when two familiar figures appeared in the luxurious house behind him. It was my parents! My usually frugal father was now exuding an air of extravagance. “It’s just a cake. Our Jack is so outstanding, I’m giving him this house as a reward.” My typically modest mother, now dressed in high-end designer clothes seen on TV, gently held his hand. “It’s our precious only son’s birthday. We can’t let some dirty delivery girl ruin his mood. Here’s the watch you’ve always wanted, don’t be upset.” Jack threw the cake at me, giving me a meaningful look. “You can have it. Consider it dog food.” I was about to speak, still holding the cake, when my phone buzzed with a negative review notification. Looking at my frostbitten hands and the holes in my shoes, I felt a wave of desolation wash over me.
Because of Jack’s complaint, I had to compensate him for the four-figure cake. That was equivalent to my wages for delivering 300 orders! But at that moment, I couldn’t dwell on these details. The hallway of the mansion was so warm, yet why did I feel ice in my heart? The door opened again, and Jack threw out a gold necklace. I immediately recognized it as the birthday gift I had bought for my mom. Jack looked at me provocatively, “My mom didn’t know where to throw this trash. I think it suits a dog like you perfectly. Come on, bark for me.” He crossed his arms, laughing arrogantly. Seeing my silence, he continued: “You’re just an abandoned child. Born but not raised by your parents.” Faced with his repeated provocations, I couldn’t hold back anymore. I clenched my fist and rushed towards him, only to be met with the sound of a slamming door. Unwilling to end things so pathetically, I stood at the door, knocking repeatedly, trying to get my parents’ attention. But what came instead were several burly security guards. “The owners inside are my parents, you can’t kick me out,” I pleaded. The security guard looked me up and down with disdain, “In this community, houses start at eight figures. You don’t look like you’re worth more than 800 bucks. If you want to dream, do it at home.” With that, they all burst into laughter. One of the guards approached me with a taser, “I advise you to get lost. This isn’t a place where you can cause trouble as you please.” I had no choice but to pick up the broken necklace from the ground and flee. The cold wind cut through my delivery uniform like a knife. Just then, someone collapsed on the road ahead. To avoid causing further injury to the fallen person, I chose to fall deliberately. The cake rolled out, smearing my face. Lying on the ground, looking at the snowflakes falling from the sky, I could no longer hold back my tears. At that moment, a familiar ringtone sounded. It was the special ringtone I had set for my parents in case they needed to reach me urgently. My mom anxiously asked, “Why did it take you so long to answer the phone, son? I thought something had happened to you. It’s our fault for making you deliver food on Christmas Eve. We’re so sorry.” I tightened my grip on the phone, wanting to ask them why they had lied to me, but all that came out was a choked sob. My dad’s cough came through the line, “It’s all dad’s fault for being useless and burdening you.” On any other day, I would have immediately refuted this, patiently comforting them. But now, I didn’t want to bother. Hearing my silence, dad thought I was tired. “Child, tomorrow’s Christmas Day. Take a break, and let’s have a good holiday together as a family.” Mom added mysteriously, “I have a surprise for you tomorrow.” I managed to squeeze out a “Okay” through my sobs. A passerby, seeing me motionless, was about to call for an ambulance. Hearing that it would cost money, I instinctively got up. “I’m fine, no need to call 911. But she might need help,” I said, pointing to a figure not far away. Under the hat was an elderly woman with white hair. “You’re young, so we dared to help. But her? That’s probably too much. You’re just a delivery girl, better not get involved,” the passerby advised. The snow was falling heavier, and out-of-control vehicles were becoming more frequent. Looking at the lonely old woman lying on the ground, I thought of how no one cared about me either. Without hesitation, I helped the conscious but immobile old woman to safety and called for an ambulance. It was already 4 AM when I got home. Looking at myself covered in cake and dirt, I quietly said, “Happy birthday.” Today was my 22nd birthday. And my parents were spending it with love and money on someone who wasn’t even related to them.
I shivered through a quick shower and hurried back under the thick but ineffective blanket. Because we were poor, we rented a house in a remote suburb, and to save money, we hadn’t paid for heating. I used to wonder why my dad would always fall seriously ill every winter, and my mom would use the excuse of taking care of him to go with him. Now I understood they were just afraid of the cold and had hidden away in a luxurious house, living like royalty. When I was little and got sick, they would brave wind and rain to carry me to the hospital. Mom would try her best to keep the umbrella over me, not caring if she got wet herself. And dad, even when he tripped over a tree branch and fell into a puddle, would still protect me wholeheartedly. They only cared if I was hurt, not themselves at all. But how could these parents who loved me so much now bear to deceive me with fake illnesses, pretending to be poor and making me give up my studies to support them? I covered my eyes and suddenly laughed out loud. I was so presumptuous. The house they were in now was in the most upscale community in the city center. I couldn’t even afford the property management fees, let alone claim to support them. I was nothing more than their plaything. Their real son must be that Jack they doted on. Light gradually filtered through the rag-covered window. The alarm went off. It was 5 AM, time to start delivering food. Although the bed was cold, I indulged in a rare lie-in. This was the first time I had rested in the four years since I started delivering food at 18. The 8 AM alarm went off. Usually, this was when I would check on my dad’s condition. Looking at the alarm note: “I’d trade my life for dad’s health,” I suddenly found it laughable. It wasn’t until the sun was high that I finally felt some warmth. At 10 AM, my parents called. “Son, why didn’t you call today? Did something happen? Are you sick? You didn’t fall, did you?” Their anxious voices echoed in my ears, but I couldn’t feel any warmth. I didn’t know their acting skills were so good, performing their “concern” for their son so convincingly that I had always believed they truly loved me. “Lucy, Lucy, why aren’t you saying anything?” Faced with their constant calls, I sighed deeply, “I’m tired.” My parents were stunned, anxiously asking, “What’s wrong? Is work too hard?” But all they got in response was my heavy breathing. Since I started delivering food when I came of age, I had never once complained of being tired in front of them. After a moment, their voices sounded again. “Son, it’s dad’s fault for being useless. You’ve worked so hard. It’s too cold, don’t go out delivering today. If you get hurt, we’ll be heartbroken.” Mom immediately chimed in, “That’s right, today’s Christmas Day. Let’s have a good family reunion. Didn’t you always want to eat at that fancy steakhouse? My friend gave me some coupons, let’s go there today to celebrate your birthday!” “We’ve brought a cake for you too.” Their joyful tone couldn’t touch me. But I still obediently agreed, “Mm.” I wanted to see how long they could keep up this act, how real they could make it seem. I put on my best clothes and arrived at the agreed mall. This was my first time stepping into such a high-end place. Just as I was about to cross the road, a sports car suddenly stopped in front of me. I immediately recognized the person in the driver’s seat. Jack lowered his sunglasses and smirked at me, “Well, if it isn’t yesterday’s dog?” He patted his car, “My mom’s coming-of-age gift for me. Not bad, right?” He then flashed his wrist, the diamonds on his watch dazzling in the sunlight. “Huh? How come your mom didn’t give you a watch? Oh, I forgot, your parents don’t love you. This watch is worth seven figures. You couldn’t afford it even if you delivered food for a lifetime.” “Oh right, my parents specially stayed up with me until midnight yesterday. Mom even cooked a big feast for me herself. I remember we have the same birthday. I wonder what your parents prepared for you?” With that, he deliberately sped off in front of me, leaving me covered in dust. Watching his arrogant and unrestrained behavior, my heart sank even further. When I turned eighteen, my parents personally handed me the delivery kit, saying, “Our son is grown up now, he can earn money for the family.” Arriving at the steakhouse, my parents looked at me with tears in their eyes, hoping to see joy on my face. After all, this was the first time in my 22 years that I was eating at the fancy steakhouse I had always dreamed of. “Happy birthday, son. Make a wish and blow out the candles.” On the table was half of the cake that Jack had left over yesterday.
My mom followed my gaze to the cake, her expression a bit awkward. “Your dad is still undergoing treatment, but we still wanted to give you some sense of ceremony. The cake might be small, but it’s enough to carry your wishes. Tell us what gift you want, and we’ll get it for you.” Perhaps feeling guilty about giving Jack a mansion and an expensive watch yesterday, they were unusually generous to me today. “Really?” I asked. My parents nodded, “Of course. You’re our only child. If we’re not good to you, who else would we be good to?” Looking at the old clothes they had deliberately put on, I couldn’t help but laugh. Remembering Jack’s words, I looked intently at my mom and slowly opened my mouth. “I want to eat a meal you cook yourself.” My mom was taken aback. She clearly hadn’t expected that I, who had always been understanding and independent, would make such a request. As far as I could remember, she had never cooked a meal for me. I thought she didn’t know how to cook, so from the age of seven, I took on the responsibility of cooking, never complaining even when my hands were scalded or cut. Now I knew that her culinary skills were actually excellent; she just wasn’t willing to cook for me. She avoided my gaze and mumbled, “Son, mom wants to cook for you too, but mom has never cooked before. I’m afraid it won’t taste good. Choose another gift, okay?” “Then can you buy me a watch?” I pointed at the watch worn by someone at the next table. With these words, my parents fell silent. They exchanged a glance, and dad coughed a few times, covering his mouth. “Son, you have a phone, why do you need a watch? You know our current situation doesn’t allow for that. Look…” Mom immediately chimed in, “Lucy, we know you’re the most obedient. We don’t need to compare ourselves with others. Being together as a family is more important than anything. Such an expensive watch, we can’t afford it. Your dad’s illness, who knows how much more it will cost.” She wiped away a tear, her face full of sorrow. “You work so hard delivering food, you shouldn’t waste money like this.” My internal contempt reached its peak. It was just a watch worth a few hundred dollars, yet they thought it was expensive. But when they bought gifts worth millions for Jack, they didn’t hesitate at all. Seeing my silence, my parents immediately pulled me to sit down, putting the only chicken leg on the table into my bowl. “Son, eat up. You need to eat well to grow. You’re too thin now.” I forced a smile. How could I not be thin when I only ate one meal a day? If they really cared for me, why did they deceive me? Why did they say dad had cancer and needed treatment? Why did they say the family was so poor we could barely make ends meet? And why did they make me give up my studies to deliver food when they knew I wanted to study? “Mom, Dad, I want to go to college.” They instinctively exchanged a glance, their eyes revealing contempt. “Lucy, you’re not cut out for studying,” Mom said hesitantly. “Don’t you remember how low your SAT score was?” They even dared to mention the SAT. After I finished the math section, they put on an act of a relapse of an old illness. I had to give up the test and rush home. But what I faced was an empty room. They said they were already in the hospital, but when I rushed there, they said they had been transferred. By the time I finally found them, the test was long over. And all they said was a casual, “We’ve already been treated.” My dream was so easily destroyed by them. “Lucy, eat up.” The taste of the steak in my mouth was so bitter. Seeing my low spirits, my parents actively put food on my plate. After just half an hour, mom’s phone rang again. A flash of guilt crossed her eyes, and she immediately hung up. “These telemarketing calls are really frequent nowadays.” But as soon as she hung up, it rang again and again. She laughed dryly and stepped aside to answer the phone. A few minutes later, she returned, her face pale, and exchanged a glance with dad. “The hospital needs to do an urgent check-up. I need to take your dad there first.” I pretended to be anxious, “Mom, let me go with you.” They were startled and quickly waved their hands, “You’re tired from delivering food. Just go home and rest. I’ll take care of your dad. Someone in the family needs to earn money.” “This is my only day off in four years. Can’t you let me stay by your side?” I finally couldn’t suppress my grievance. With tears in my eyes, I looked at them stubbornly, begging them. My humble request seemed to make them waver. “Well… let’s sit for a bit longer.” But before they could sit down, their phones rang again. Dad showed the phone to mom, and their faces grew more anxious. “Lucy, you’re an adult now. Don’t be childish. You need to know what’s important. Your dad’s attending physician just messaged us to come over immediately.” I grabbed her hand, begging like a dog wagging its tail. “Can’t you stay to finish my last birthday before leaving?” Mom frowned, very impatient. “You have birthdays every year. What’s so important about one stupid birthday? Lucy Thompson, you’re being very inconsiderate.” She forcefully pulled her hand away, her nails leaving a long scratch on the back of my hand. Am I really that annoying? They’re not even willing to stay a bit longer. I’m supposed to be their biological child. Why can’t they spare even a little love for me? Why did they have to deceive me? I could no longer suppress the fact that my parents didn’t love me and buried my face in my hands, crying. Just as I was about to leave, someone suddenly sat down in the chair in front of me. “If you want to continue your studies, I can sponsor you. However, my team needs a semi-closed research period of ten years. I hope you’ll think it through before making a decision.” Suddenly, my phone received a message from an unknown number. [I just said I sprained my ankle, and your parents abandoned you to come to me. What does it matter if you’re blood-related? In your parents’ hearts, you’ll never measure up to me!] I tightened my grip on my phone, suddenly wanting to be willful for once. [Mom, I’ve been in a car accident.] The next second, my phone immediately rang. “Son, are you okay? Where are you? Mom and Dad will come right away.” I was about to speak when I faintly heard Jack’s exclamation, “My foot hurts so much! Is it broken? How am I going to attend Harvard if it’s broken?” Mom’s tone became even more urgent, but not for me. She casually brushed me off with a sentence, “If you’re hurt, go to the hospital quickly. Your dad’s condition is more critical, I have to go there first. I’ll come see you later. Mom knows you’re tough, you’ll be fine.” The black screen of my phone now seemed to be mocking me for how foolish I was. How dare I try to compete for affection with their beloved son? I looked at the person in front of me and finally made up my mind. “Alright, I agree. I’ll join your team.”
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