Ethan once gave me a voice recorder. It was my personal “apology recorder.” Because my sister, Lily, was in poor health and extremely sensitive, Ethan set a strict rule: Whenever Lily felt wronged, I had to record an apology to her. “Lily has a fever. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have opened the living room window.” “Lily didn’t make the cheerleading captain. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have performed better than her during the tryouts.” He always lectured me in his most helpless, sighing voice: “Chloe, Lily only has us. What’s wrong with just swallowing your pride and making her feel better?” Today, Ethan walked up to me with the recorder, his face cold. “Lily lost her art gallery ticket because of you. She’s crying so hard she can’t even eat. You know the drill. Record your apology.” I looked at him, not bothering to explain that Lily had actually thrown the ticket into the washing machine herself. I pressed the record button, but the screen flashed: “Storage Full.” Ethan frowned, casually scrolling down and deleting the largest audio file on the list. “Hurry up. Lily is waiting to hear it.” I froze, feeling the blood drain from my face in an instant. Nearby, Mom was carefully peeling an apple for Lily. “It’s just an old song you recorded, isn’t it? Why are you pulling that face? Who are you trying to guilt-trip?” They had no idea. That deleted file wasn’t some useless song. It was the final voicemail my grandmother had left me six years ago, holding onto her very last breath on her deathbed. It was my only solace left in this world. “Fine,” I whispered. I walked over, took the recorder, and pressed the button. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have ever appeared in your lives. Don’t worry. I won’t anymore.”
Ethan’s frown deepened after listening to the recording. He didn’t hand the recorder to Lily. Instead, he paused it right in front of me. “Chloe, what kind of tantrum is this now?” His voice carried that familiar, exhausting sigh. “Lily is just upset about the ticket. Just say you’re sorry, and we can move past this.” “What do you mean by ‘won’t appear anymore’? Do you really have to say things like that just to stab her in the heart?” He said it so righteously. In his mind, I was always the one making a scene out of nothing. I looked at his handsome face. I had looked at this face for over ten years. In the past, if he so much as frowned, I would immediately analyze what I had done wrong. But now, I just felt incredibly tired. “Then I won’t record it,” I said flatly. I didn’t frantically explain where the ticket went like I used to. “Just tell her I apologized.” Ethan blinked, momentarily stunned. His mouth opened as if to say something, but in the end, he just let out another sigh. “Whatever. You’re in a bad mood today. I won’t play this for Lily.” “Go to your room and think about what you did.”
He turned and walked into Lily’s room to comfort her. I stood in the hallway, watching Mom carry a bowl of freshly simmered organic bone broth. She brushed past me without a glance, walking straight into that room. “Lily, sweetie, drink this while it’s hot. You cried so much your throat is hoarse. It breaks my heart…” Mom’s tender voice drifted through the crack of the door. That was a warmth exclusive to Lily. At the dinner table, the silence was suffocating. Mom had made a feast. Ethan sat next to Lily, peeling shrimp for her. Lily’s eyes were still red. She stole a timid glance at me and whispered, “Chloe, please don’t be mad at Ethan.” “About the ticket… I don’t blame you anymore. Don’t fight with him over a stupid deleted file.” “We’re not fighting,” I said, chewing on a dry piece of whole wheat bread. My voice was dry. “And I’m not mad.” Ethan’s hand paused on the shrimp. Usually, at times like this, I would desperately defend myself. I would ask them with tears in my eyes why they never believed me, or even throw my forks in anger because of their blatant favoritism. But today, I was too quiet. So quiet that even Mom, who always ignored me, couldn’t help but look at me a few times. “If you’re not mad, eat more,” Mom said, dropping a dry, bony scrap of grilled salmon onto my plate. “Honestly, you’re an adult now. It was just a file. If it’s deleted, it’s deleted. Lily is sick, you should learn to yield to her.” “Okay.” I didn’t throw the bony scrap away. I chewed it and swallowed it, bones and all. After dinner, I went to my room and started packing. I pulled out an old cardboard box. I only put my ID, my legal documents, and an old, faded handkerchief Grandma had left me inside. Around ten, there was a knock on my door. Ethan walked in carrying a glass of warm milk. “Still mad about this afternoon?” He pulled out a chair and sat down, his voice softening. “I asked your mom. She said that deleted file was just an old song.” “Chloe, I know you’re sentimental, but the storage was full.” “Tell you what. Tell me the name of the song, and I’ll buy you a rare vinyl record of it tomorrow, okay?” “Ethan,” I said, looking into his eyes. “You can’t buy it.” “That voice doesn’t exist in this world anymore.” Ethan’s brow furrowed. He reached out to ruffle my hair, but I tilted my head and dodged his touch. “You’re always so stubborn. It’s just a song. Stop acting like the sky is falling.” He stood up, his tone slipping back into impatience. “Drink the milk. Lily has a hospital check-up tomorrow. Go to sleep early and stop causing drama.” The door shut. The room fell back into a dead, icy silence. I didn’t touch the milk. I closed my eyes, desperately trying to replay Grandma’s voice in my head. “Chloe, my sweet girl, you have to be strong…” But no matter how hard I tried, the voice in my memory felt like ink dissolving in water—blurry, distant, and fading away. I realized with terror that I was truly losing the sound of her voice. Tears finally fell without warning, soaking the pillow.
The next morning, I was woken up by the noise in the living room. I pushed the door open. Mom was busy packing a bag for Lily’s hospital visit. She looked up at me, not stopping her hands. “Chloe, you’re up. There’s leftover rice in the pot, heat it up yourself.” “I only made fresh oatmeal for Lily. She has to get blood drawn today, and her stomach is weak. She needs something fresh.” The fish bone I swallowed last night felt like it was still scraping my throat, leaving a dull ache. “Okay,” I nodded. Just then, the front door opened. Ethan walked straight to the couch. He pulled a glossy VIP card from his coat pocket and slid it in front of Lily, who had just walked out of her room. “Lily, look what I got.” Lily gasped, covering her mouth in shock. “VIP tickets to the art gallery! Ethan, how did you get these? Didn’t they say they were completely sold out yesterday?” “I called a few connections and bought them from a reseller overnight,” Ethan said, the exhaustion on his face melting away at her smile. “As long as it makes you happy, I’ll get you anything.” He gently rubbed Lily’s head. Then, he turned to look at me standing by the kitchen door. The warmth on his face cooled down. “Chloe, I replaced the ticket.” Ethan stared at me. “Lily is happy now, and she doesn’t blame you anymore.” “You don’t need to record an apology today.” My fingers tightened around my glass of water. Yesterday, because the storage was full, he deleted my grandmother’s last words without a second thought. He frowned at me, calling me stubborn over an “old song.” But today, for a ticket Lily had carelessly ruined herself, he stayed up all night and pulled every favor he had just to make her smile. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” Ethan’s frown returned at my silence. “The ticket issue is resolved. Are you still throwing a tantrum at Lily?” I looked at this face I had known for a decade. Suddenly, he felt like a total stranger. In the past, I would have cried and demanded to know why he never trusted me. Why he could erase what I cherished so easily. “No,” I curled my lips, my voice sounding incredibly dry. “It’s great. Thank you.” Ethan froze. He obviously hadn’t expected this reaction from me. He opened his mouth to speak, but Mom cut him off. “Alright, Ethan, ignore her. She’s been passive-aggressive like this since she was a kid.” Mom grabbed the bag and lovingly helped Lily up. “Let’s go. We’re going to miss the specialist’s appointment.” “Chloe, wash Lily’s dirty sheets while we’re gone.” The door slammed shut. The lively atmosphere left with them, leaving the house in a graveyard silence. I went back to my room, pulled out the cardboard box from under the bed. Inside were my documents and Grandma’s faded handkerchief. I turned around and swept everything on my desk—things I once treated like treasures—into a heavy-duty trash bag. The crystal music box Ethan gave me for my eighteenth birthday. The ill-fitting dresses Mom bought me whenever she was in a rare good mood. And the only “family photo” of the four of us. All of it. Gone. My phone buzzed on the desk. It was a Snapchat message from Ethan. “The check-up is done. Lily wants the strawberry tarts from the downtown bakery.” “Go line up and buy two boxes now. Your mom wants some too. We’ll be home in two hours, just in time.” The downtown bakery was fifteen miles away. And it was pouring rain outside. They always did this. Ordering me around as if it were my sole purpose in life, never caring if I was cold, tired, or willing. I stared at the screen for a long time. Then, I slowly typed back: “Okay.” After sending it, I locked my phone and tossed it onto the bare mattress.
At 3 PM, the front door unlocked. Lily’s giggling, sweet voice echoed through the foyer. “Ethan, the doctor today was so nice!” The door opened. I sat quietly in my dark room, watching the three of them walk in. Ethan hung up his coat, his eyes scanning the coffee table. The smile on his face vanished, his brow furrowing instantly. “Chloe, where are the strawberry tarts?” I stepped out of the shadows. “I didn’t buy them.” Ethan froze. A wave of annoyance flashed in his eyes. “How long are you going to keep acting like this?” he lowered his voice, clearly trying not to startle Lily. “If you didn’t want to go because of the rain, you could have just said so. Why agree to it and then purposely not go? Just to spite Lily? Just to make us miserable?” Mom turned around, holding Lily’s wet umbrella. “What is wrong with you now?!” Mom’s voice shrieked. “Lily had three tubes of blood drawn today! She was dizzy and nauseous, and she just wanted something sweet! You couldn’t even run a simple errand for her?” “How did I raise such a cold-blooded monster?!” I looked at Mom’s furious face. “It was pouring,” I said softly. “And I have a fever. I’m dizzy.” It was the truth. I had gotten soaked in the rain the day before, and I had been shivering all day, cold to the bone. But nobody cared. Mom scoffed. “A fever? Lily takes medication every single day and she’s never as dramatic as you. If you didn’t want to go, just say so. Don’t fake an illness.” Ethan sighed, completely ignoring my “excuse.” Instead, he pulled a flash drive from his pocket and set it on the coffee table. “It’s fine, Eleanor. Don’t get worked up.” He turned to me. “Chloe, I shouldn’t have deleted your file yesterday. I wasn’t thinking.” “So today, I asked a tech friend to find that old song. It’s a high-res version, all saved on this flash drive.” He paused, his voice calm and confident. “Now, I’ve returned your file. Go apologize to Lily, promise you won’t give her attitude anymore, and we can put yesterday behind us.” I stood there, looking at the flash drive. They would never understand. That crackling audio of Grandma saying, “Chloe, my sweet girl, you have to be strong,” was the only match I had to keep me warm in this freezing house. Now, he had snapped that match in half. “No need,” I looked away. Mom followed my gaze and spotted the trash bag by my desk, with the corner of the crystal music box sticking out. She also saw the old dress she had thrown at me years ago. Mom’s face turned green. She rushed over and ripped the bag open. “Chloe Vance! Do you think you’re clever?!” She shook with rage, pointing at the discarded items on the floor. “These are perfectly fine! Why are you throwing them away?!” “Who are you trying to threaten? Who is this dramatic performance for?!” “I’m not threatening anyone,” I said as I walked back into my room and grabbed my single canvas bag. “I just realized I don’t need any of these things anymore.” Ethan stared at my thin canvas bag, his brows knitting into a tight knot. His patience had finally run out. “Are you playing the ‘running away’ card again?” “Chloe, you’re twenty years old. Can you grow up?” “Over a song, over some strawberry tarts, how much drama do you have to bring into this house?!” Lily shrank behind Ethan, her eyes turning red on cue. She gently tugged his sleeve. “Ethan, don’t yell at Chloe. It’s my fault. I don’t need the tarts…” “You did nothing wrong, Lily. Stop taking the blame for everything,” Ethan patted her hand reassuringly. “Chloe Vance, if you want to leave, go ahead. But let me make this clear: if you walk out that door today, don’t expect me to come begging for you to come back like before. Think carefully.” Mom sneered beside him. “Let her rot! I want to see how she survives a single day without this family!” “Don’t you dare come back crying to me!” In the past, if Ethan said those words, I would have dropped my bag in panic, crying and begging for forgiveness. But today, looking at the three of them standing united against me, I felt a lightness I had never experienced before. “Okay,” I said. I walked past them and wrapped my hand around the cold doorknob. I didn’t look back. Grandma, Chloe doesn’t have a home anymore. But don’t worry. I’ll listen to you. From now on, I’ll live well, just for myself. After I left, Lily looked at the silver flash drive on the coffee table and picked it up. “Ethan, Chloe is so stubborn. She didn’t even want the song you worked so hard to find.” She played with the drive, then plugged it into the laptop connected to the living room speakers. Ethan leaned back on the couch, rubbing his temples. “I thought it was some rare track. To make it up to her, I asked the tech department at my firm to recover the exact deleted file overnight.” “I gave it back to her exactly as it was. What more does she want?” Mom grunted. “She’s just spoiled. Does she really think she can survive out there?” “Leave her be. She’ll be crying at our doorstep before the night ends.” Lily giggled and clicked the play button on the audio file. However, what came out of the speakers wasn’t music. There was no melody. No singing. Only a raspy, weak, elderly voice. “Chloe… my sweet girl, don’t cry…” “Grandma can’t protect you anymore. You have to be strong…” “From now on, you’re on your own… you must live well…” The glass in Ethan’s hand slipped, shattering loudly on the floor. The laundry in Mom’s hands dropped. She collapsed onto the couch, her lips trembling violently. “That… that’s my mother’s voice… How is that her last words?!”
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