The year my daughter needed me most, I left her at a foster home and married a wealthy man instead. Five years later, she became an A-list celebrity. Her first move after hitting the big time? Calling me during her victory livestream. Watching me rush to collect a free meal from the community kitchen, she pulled her manager close with a satisfied smirk: “If you’d just stuck it out a bit longer back then, you could be living the high life with me now. Regretting it yet?” I grinned. “Oh yeah? Prove it. Wire me a hundred grand.” She hung up, furious. My phone buzzed. A hundred thousand dollars hit my account. I called her back: “Wow, color me impressed! Send another hundred grand!” “Dream on!” Right as she went to hang up, I rapped my bandaged hand against the camera: “Haha, just messing with you. Keep your money.” My smile faded. I reached up and pulled off the scarf entirely. Revealing a face weathered by chronic illness. I smiled and waved at the camera: “By the time you’re watching this recording, I’ll already be gone.” “But hey—look at you! You made it, Violet Lane!” “I always knew you would! Haha~” “Shocked? I figured once you hit stardom, you’d come back to rub it in. How’s that—called it, didn’t I?” Violet shot to her feet. She took a step forward, then froze. A bitter laugh escaped her as she turned to the host: “How much did she pay you to stage this whole thing?” The host froze: “Violet, your mother’s will specified that if we ever connected with you, we should play this recording instead.” “Will?” Violet laughed bitterly: “A selfish woman like her? She hasn’t had enough good days yet. Why would she give that up? Trying to guilt me now?” She grabbed her manager’s hand. “Sorry, but when I needed her most, she walked out on me.” She glared at the screen. “She doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near me.” “Violet, I know you hate me.” The second she turned away, my voice came through: “After I left you, I never had an easy life. Don’t worry about that.” “Still mad? Think of this goodbye video as my way of letting you vent. And if you don’t want to watch, that’s okay too.” “And seriously—congratulations on becoming a star!” Violet spun back around. The screen showed footage from every day and night from the day I left her until the end.
I picked up my handheld camera and forced a smile at the lens: “Today… let’s pretend I’m having one last meal with my Violet.” I held up the bowl of oatmeal and imagined my daughter sitting across from me. I smiled at the empty space, like I was answering an unasked question: “You’re wondering about Violet? She… has work. She can’t make it today.” I bowed my head and took a spoonful of oatmeal. Suddenly, a violent coughing fit hit me. I lurched sideways and spat a mouthful of blood-flecked oatmeal into the trash can by my feet, then quickly covered it with crumpled paper. I wiped the corner of my mouth and managed a weak smile for the camera. “End-stage kidney failure… it’s no walk in the park… Did I scare you, honey?” I lifted the camera, angling it to show myself and the empty chair across from me: “Quick, let’s get this ‘lonely mom special’ on film. Once I’m gone, you won’t get to see me like this anymore.” The lens caught only my forced smile. I held it there, staring for a long, long moment. “Violet… do you think… if I wasn’t here one day, would you… would you ever think of me?” I paused, resting my cheek gently against the cold table edge: “Sometimes I have these silly thoughts. If I turned into a bug, would you even recognize me?” I shook my head, muttering to myself: “No, a bug’s no good… maybe a little bird instead. I’d be the kind you loved as a kid—a cardinal with a clear, sweet song. If you ever missed me, I’d land on your windowsill and sing for you.” “I promise I won’t wake you up or make a mess on your windowsill…” My voice trailed off until it dissolved into quiet sobs. Dinner was finished. I leaned against the wall, shuffling slowly over to that old cabinet. In the bottom drawer, under everything else, was money I’d secretly stashed away over the years. I put it all on a bank card and carefully wrote the PIN on the back. Then I found that copy of *The Education of the Heart* I’d bought years ago and slipped the card inside. After a moment’s thought, I pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and wrote: [Violet, Mom will come back as a little bird to see you] Tears finally came pouring out, splashing heavily onto the floor. “My daughter… Mom really wishes… I could really become a little bird…”
“What do you mean my condition got worse and you told them not to let me back?!” In the footage, I clutched my test results, confronting the doctor angrily. “Clara, please calm down!” The attending physician blocked my path. “Your physical condition is too poor. There’s nothing we can do. Besides, you haven’t paid your hospital bills in a long time…” My eyes reddened as I stared at him: “You all knew about this?” I looked around at the silent nurses and other patients. “So you just gave up on me like that?” Everyone looked down. “Clara…” The doctor sighed. “You know your situation. The treatment costs are way beyond what you can afford. I recommend you just get some painkillers and spend your final days at home.” I shook my head, eyes red: “You’re lying… You’re all lying!” I grabbed the doctor’s white coat tightly: “Today is April first… April Fools’ Day. You’re just trying to scare me, right? Tell me it’s a joke!” The doctor turned his face away, silent. I collapsed onto the hospital’s cold corridor floor. Tears hit the clean tiles. “It’s over…” April first. April Fools’ Day. The day I found out my body was shutting down fast. What was even crueler? No one was joking. I don’t remember how I made it back to that basement room. For two weeks straight, I wandered around in a fog, like a zombie. On the way back from the hospital with painkillers, I didn’t even feel the raindrops hitting my face. It wasn’t until I bumped into someone that I snapped out of it, scrambling to help her pick up scattered papers: “I’m so sorry, so sorry…” When I saw the title on the top document—”Adoption Certificate”—followed by the name “Violet Lane,” my hands froze.
“Mom?” Violet was already dressed in the latest designer clothes, standing beside a well-dressed middle-aged woman. My faded old jacket and mud-spattered pants looked totally out of place. A hint of satisfaction crossed her face: “Look at you. What happened—did that rich guy dump you?” I looked up. Our eyes met—mine red-rimmed, hers suddenly stiffening. I handed back the scattered papers and turned to leave. “Mom!” She grabbed my arm: “My new mom… she treats me really well.” Of course I knew that. But I still managed a smile: “Really? That’s great.” She held onto my arm when I tried to pull away, her eyes getting a little red: “What I mean is, if you can’t make it anymore, you can tell me!” “I’m not… I’m…” I clutched the painkillers tightly. “I’m doing okay.” “Are you?” She tugged my hand, revealing the worn old bracelet on my wrist. When she was five, she’d used her saved allowance to buy materials and weave this bracelet for me. “Don’t tell me you can’t even afford a new one now!” She said it through clenched teeth. I noticed she wore an elegant watch on her wrist, no other jewelry. Our eyes met. A flicker of hope crossed hers. The next second, I ripped off the bracelet and tossed it into the storm drain. “Mom!” Her voice mixed with the rain, angry but tight with emotion. Tears streaming down my face, I kept walking. I didn’t look back. That night, I went back to the same spot in the pouring rain. A leaf? No… A pebble? No… Where’s my bracelet? I dropped my umbrella and knelt on the ground, digging with my hands. Dizzy. Nauseous. But… I can’t lose it… A dog barked. I lunged toward the sound frantically. Where the little dog had been, I found the bracelet in the muddy water. I reached out to pet the dog’s head. But instead, I collapsed face-first into the mud with a splash.
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