A Fake Poverty that My Parent Build for Me

On the twentieth New Year's Eve of my life, my parents were too busy working to spend the holiday with me. Or so I thought. I went out alone to watch the fireworks, trying to convince myself that I didn’t mind the solitude. But then, in the glowing neon of the city, I saw them. Mom and Dad. Not alone. They were with another girl. Taking her out for seafood. Buying her a milliondollar necklace. Gifting her a Lamborghini sports car.

I stood frozen as I watched them dote on her, their eyes filled with warmth, with pride, with love—the kind of love I had never known.

“Celline, you’re closer to us than our own daughter,” Mom said, her voice trembling with emotion.

“Our favorite child,” Dad added, his eyes filled with affection.

Then Celline turned to me, her lips curling into a knowing, taunting smile.

The baked sweet potatoes in my hands suddenly lost their warmth. The scent, once sweet and comforting, turned bitter. I glanced down at my own wornout clothes, all adding up to less than a hundred dollars and an overwhelming sourness filled my chest.

I ran home as if fleeing for my life, dived under my covers and sobbed until my body ached. In a fit of anguish, I grabbed my only teddy bear and threw it across the room. It landed in the corner, silent and abandoned. Just like me.

That teddy bear was the only gift I had ever received in twenty years—my eighth birthday present, stitched by my mother’s own hands. I used to hold it close every night, feeling the warmth of every thread, every stitch she had sewn, each one a testament to her love.

I remembered how she stayed up late, sewing by dim light, skipping meals, her fingers pricked and bleeding. I cherished that bear because I knew how much she had suffered to make it for me. So I never asked for anything else.

From elementary school, I picked up bottles on my way home to earn a few cents. In high school, I survived on plain white rice with water, ate the cheapest vegetarian meals and wore clothes patched up for another year even when they were falling apart.

People laughed at me, mocked me. But I didn’t care.

“We’re poor,” my parents always said. “If we can save a little, we should save a little.”

But tonight, I realized something. They weren’t poor at all. They had just been saving everything—for her.

Celline, their canary in a golden cage, basking in endless luxury while I starved on scraps. I didn't sleep a wink. My pillow was soaked with tears, my heart hollowed out by betrayal.

“Little Feather, wake up.”

“The sun is already on your ass!”

Mom and Dad’s voices rang out, as if nothing had happened. I wiped my tears away and stepped out of my room. There they were, dressed in their usual shabby clothes, their expressions filled with warmth and familiarity.

For a moment, I felt disoriented. As if what I saw last night had been just a cruel dream.

“Little Feather, we brought you some food from work,” Mom said, handing me a lunchbox. “All prawns and crabs, your favorite!”

In the past, I would have squealed with joy, kissed her cheek and rushed to heat up some rice. But this time, I stayed still. I remembered how, just yesterday, they took her out for seafood. How many years had I been eating her leftovers without realizing it?

“Look, sugar cookies! Especially sweet, just like my good daughter.” Dad grinned, pulling out a handful of cookies from his pocket.

I had always treated these cookies like treasures, eating them slowly, savoring the warmth they represented. Now, all I could think was Celline probably didn’t want them, so they gave them to me instead.

Noticing my silence, Mom wrapped an arm around me, her fingers brushing my cheek. “Little Feather, you’re acting strange today.”

Her eyes scanned my face, her brows furrowing. “Why are your eyes so red? Are you sick?”

Sick? I had cried all night. My eyes were swollen, my vision still blurry.

“Let’s go, I’m taking you to the hospital.” Dad didn’t even sit down. He hadn’t taken a sip of hot tea before he was already moving, already worried. They had always been like this. Always caring. Always gentle.

I remembered another winter night, years ago. I had a fever and the cold rain poured outside. My dad had carried me on his back and ran through the storm to the hospital. I never got wet. But he was drenched to the bone, shivering from the cold, yet still whispering, “Are you feeling better? Does it hurt?”

I had loved that man with all my heart. That same man who had deceived me for twenty years.

Raised in poverty. Raising Celline in wealth. The more I thought about it, the deeper the ache in my chest grew and before I knew it, tears spilled down my cheeks again.

Mom and Dad immediately panicked, their voices filled with concern as they asked what was wrong—if someone had bullied me.

I shook my head and forced a small smile. Then, in the softest voice, I said, “Last night, I went out to watch the fireworks alone. I saw a beautiful girl with Mom and Dad. You bought her so many things.”

I hesitated before adding, “But no one was with me. I’ve always been alone.”

Mom and Dad exchanged glances. Panic flickered in their eyes for a fleeting second—so fast that most people wouldn’t have noticed. But I did.

Mom’s eyes reddened as she pulled me into a tight embrace, her voice trembling with emotion. “Little Feather, it’s our fault. We’re useless parents. We couldn’t give you a luxurious life and we’re always so busy with work… We didn’t have time to be there for you.”

Once upon a time, her tears would have softened my heart and I would have rushed to comfort her. But now, all I could think about was how good her acting skills were. Too busy with work? Or too busy taking care of her?

“Naomi, there’s no need to envy others just because we’re poor,” Dad said, his voice full of wisdom, as if he was teaching me a valuable lesson. But I wasn’t envious of others.

I was envious of Celline—their cherished, adopted daughter who was treated better than their own flesh and blood.

“Okay, okay, let’s not dwell on this. I’ll go heat up your food,” Mom said, quickly getting up and heading to the kitchen.

She brought back a plate of seafood—something I had never been given before. Yet, despite the delicacies, I didn’t touch a single bite. Instead, I focused on my plain white rice, eating in silence.

“Little Naomi, why aren’t you eating the shrimp and crab?”

“You’re still growing! You need more nutrition,” Mom and Dad insisted as they peeled shrimp and crab, placing them into my bowl with care. But the food tasted like nothing to me.

They claimed they wanted me to be healthy, yet they were spending all their money on her. How ironic.

After dinner, I mustered up all my courage and finally voiced a request. “I want a new computer.” It was the first time I had ever asked for something.

The laptop I had used throughout college was a secondhand model, bought for five hundred dollars. It lagged even when opening a simple document. But I had never dared to ask for a replacement, fearing it would burden my parents financially. Instead, every penny I earned from parttime jobs, I gave to my mom—to help pay off our socalled debts.

“Little Naomi, can you manage with what you have?” Dad sighed heavily. “Your mom and I haven’t even paid off our external debts yet.”

“Yes, Naomi. If it’s not absolutely necessary, let’s wait until you start working and save up for it yourself,” Mom added, her voice full of difficulty.

Of course. Of course, it would be like this.

My heart sank, an icy chill spreading through me as I recalled the scene from last night. Celline wanted a sports car and a necklace worth millions and they bought them without hesitation. I only asked for a computer worth a few thousand dollars and yet…

I clenched my fists under the table.

Perhaps they noticed my sinking mood because Dad suddenly sat beside me, squeezed out a smile and tugged my hand gently. “Daughter, why don’t we go to the movies tonight?”

“Yes, yes! Let’s go together! And we’ll buy Little Feather a big bucket of popcorn,” Mom added, her eyes filled with anticipation.

I hesitated for a few seconds, but eventually, I nodded. “Okay. Because… spending a holiday with Mom and Dad was something I had always longed for. The moment I agreed, both of them let out a breath of relief, their shoulders relaxing. Buzz!

Just then, Dad’s phone vibrated. He picked it up, glanced at the screen and his expression shifted. He quickly exchanged glances with Mom before clearing his throat.

“Aigoo, Older Brother Larry needs to meet us about work,” he said casually.

Then he turned to me. “Little Naomi, stay home for now. Don’t go out, okay? There are a lot of bad people roaming around during the New Year.”

Just like that, my last shred of hope crumbled.

Dad admonished me, then hurriedly left the house with Mom.

"Talking about work? Really?"

With my heart full of doubts, I secretly followed them outside, only to see that familiar Lamborghini.

Moments later, Celline stepped out of the car and dove straight into Mom's embrace, her movements far more natural than mine had ever been. Mom’s face softened into a doting smile. Meanwhile, Dad frowned and scolded, "Didn’t I tell you not to come here? Why did you sneak over?"

Unfortunately for them, there is no such thing as a completely impenetrable secret—I already knew the truth.

"I missed you guys." Celline pouted, then pulled out a pair of movie tickets and said, "Mom, Dad, come to the movies with me tonight, okay? The last time we went together was two months ago."

Mom and Dad exchanged glances, hesitation flickering across their faces. Seeing this, Celline pouted again, her voice taking on a pitiful tone. "Mom, Dad, am I not your favorite daughter?"

"Of course you are!" Mom immediately reassured her.

Celline blinked innocently and added, "Oh, is it because Sister Naomi wants you to accompany her? If that's the case, then you should go with her instead. I don’t mind." Her falsely sweet tone sent shivers down my spine.

"No, it’s not that!"

"We have a meeting with a client tonight. We'll see if we're free later," Mom quickly denied.

Dad nodded. "Yes, we'll call you if we’re free."

"Alright then." Celline feigned disappointment as she got back into the car.

I clenched my fists, feeling a storm brewing in my chest, but I didn’t confront them. Instead, I silently returned home, waiting to see whom they would ultimately choose to spend the evening with.

Normally, when I went out with Mom and Dad, I would wash my hair, put on perfume and dress neatly. But tonight, I felt no desire to do any of that.

By the end of the night, Dad suddenly turned to me and said, "Naomi, the company just notified us that we need to work overtime tonight. Your mom and I have to go, so—"

"You guys go," I interrupted before he could finish.

Dad hesitated for a moment before sighing in relief. "Alright. Stay home and go to bed early. There are noodles in the kitchen. If you get hungry, cook yourself some dinner."

I watched them leave, my vision blurred by tears.

In the end, they still chose her. They abandoned their own biological daughter to spend time with their precious adopted one. I just wanted to be with them for one evening. Was that really too much to ask? Why are they doing this to me?

I ran into my room, my chest heaving with emotion and began tearing through the stack of birthday greeting cards my parents had written me over the years.

"Little Feather, we hope you have a joyful new year! Mom and Dad love you!"

"Naomi, you've grown up again. Don't stress too much—your health and happiness are what matter most."

"Our Naomi is the sweetest and most understanding girl! She truly is our little angel!"

These cards had been my only birthday gifts every year. I had cherished them because they had felt like proof of my parents’ love. But now, I realized—it was all a lie.

I tore them apart, along with the certificates and awards I had worked so hard for over the years. I had studied tirelessly, spending every free moment in the library. I had even turned down an opportunity to study abroad, all because I wanted to stay close to my parents and support them. But now, all my efforts felt meaningless. Another sleepless night. Another night spent in tears. And then, a sudden realization struck me— I had to start living for myself.

Without hesitation, I picked up my phone and called my college professor.

"Professor Joe, are there still any openings for the overseas study program?"

"There are, there are! I was just waiting for you to say yes!" Professor Joe’s excitement was palpable through the phone. "You’re my best student, Naomi. If you go abroad to further your studies, your future will be limitless!"

I felt my throat tighten. "But, Professor, the tuition and living expenses..."

"The school will cover it all. You don’t have to worry about a thing."

Hearing those words, a wave of emotions surged within me. A mix of relief, gratitude and something I hadn’t felt in a long time—warmth.

"Thank you, Professor!" I whispered, my voice trembling.

After hanging up, I sat in silence for a long moment, letting the reality of my decision sink in. Just then, the front door creaked open.

"Little Feather, come see what we brought you!" Mom’s cheerful voice rang through the house.

I stepped out of my room and found them holding a bag of my oncefavorite candy canes.

"Little Feather, we’re sorry about last night," Mom said as she placed the candy in my hand. She stroked my hair gently, her voice filled with false remorse. "Once we come back from this business trip, we’ll take you to the movies."

Dad nodded. "I’ll buy you two buckets of popcorn then."

I stared at them, my expression unreadable.

"Okay," I replied flatly.

They took my response as a sign that everything was back to normal. Without another word, they hurriedly packed their things, left a hundreddollar bill on the table and prepared to leave once more.

Just as they were stepping out the door, Mom turned back, her expression slightly nervous. "Oh, by the way, if any packages arrive in the next few days, don’t open them, alright?"

I nodded mechanically, though my mind was already racing.

They’ve never specifically told me not to open a package before. Which meant—it had to be from Celline.

Sure enough, that evening, the doorbell rang. A courier stood outside, holding a small parcel. I signed for it, hesitating for only a second before flipping it over to check the sender’s address.

My suspicion was right. This was for Celline. Mom and Dad didn’t want her coming to the house directly, so they had her packages sent here instead. Something inside me snapped.

Before I left, there was one thing I needed to know—what was so special about Celline? What made her more deserving of my parents’ love than me?

I followed the address to a grand, detached villa. Two bodyguards stood at the entrance, keeping watch.

The doors were slightly ajar and through the gap, I could see Celline seated at an elegant grand piano, playing effortlessly. She wore a noble, customtailored dress. She looked graceful, refined—everything I wasn’t. Compared to my simple, wornout clothes, the difference between us was staggering.

One of the guards caught sight of me and scowled. "Go beg for food somewhere else. This isn’t a place for the likes of you. Get lost."

I didn’t move. I couldn’t. I just stood there, frozen, staring inside.

Celline must have noticed me because she suddenly lifted her hands from the piano keys and gracefully stood up. With a slight smirk, she glanced at the bodyguards. "Let her in."

I stepped inside, my eyes darting around the luxurious interior. Chandeliers, marble floors, priceless paintings—everything exuded wealth. Memories of my cramped little bedroom flashed through my mind, making my chest tighten with resentment.

"Have you always believed you lived a happy life? That your classmates and teachers envied you for having such ‘loving’ parents?" Celline’s voice was soft, almost pitying.

I clenched my fists. "What are you trying to say?"

"What I’m saying is," she continued, tilting her head slightly, "your socalled happiness is nothing but a joke."

A cold smirk played on her lips as she gestured around the room. "Look at this villa. Look at my piano. Look at the dress I’m wearing. Every single thing here is custommade, designed specifically for me."

She took a step closer. "And what have Mom and Dad given you? Handmedown clothes? Leftover food?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper, taunting. "Oh and let’s not forget—while you were staying up late, working hard and worrying about them, they were here. With me."

Each word cut deeper than the last.

I could feel the tears stinging my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "I worked hard. I studied. I gave up everything for them!" My voice cracked. "Why... why wasn’t that enough?"

Celline chuckled, her tone dripping with mockery. "Because you’re ugly and dull."

Celline couldn't help but laugh out loud. "It's not like I'm some fairskinned beauty with a noble aura wherever I go, bringing honor to our parents."

"The only reason I still acknowledge you is because I pity you. If I abandoned you completely, my conscience might nag at me."

"I remember Mom and Dad saying you were born with a face full of wrinkles. And now, even after all these years, you haven't grown into anything worthwhile."

"They also said your emotional intelligence is pitifully low and that you have a weak personality."

Her words struck me like a slap across the face. My body trembled and I instinctively took several steps back, nearly losing my balance. She wasn’t wrong.

I was plainlooking—thin, frail and easily lost in a crowd. I never knew how to speak up for myself, never had the grace or charm that drew people in. But I remembered what the professor once said: When life disappoints you, don’t lose your composure.

Swallowing my tears, I forced myself to stay calm. "Fine, fine. Since they love you so much, I won’t fight for it."

"I don’t care about the position of the cherished daughter."

With that, I turned my head and walked away. Behind me, Celline's triumphant laughter rang out, but I refused to let it affect me.

A few days later, while my parents were away on a trip, I completed all the paperwork necessary to leave the country. Before stepping out of the house for the last time, I left a farewell letter on the table. That was the last act I performed as their daughter.

Half a month later.

Mom and Dad returned from their business trip, dressed in their usual casual clothes, pushing open the door with bright smiles.

"Little Feather, my sweet girl, Mommy’s home!"

"And Daddy bought you snacks this time. You little glutton, you must be excited!"

But there was no response. There was no daughter running up to greet them with a hug, no cheerful voice saying, "Mommy, Daddy, welcome home!"

No one pouring them a glass of water or massaging their shoulders after their travels.

Only a single letter lay quietly on the table. Dad frowned as he picked it up and unfolded the paper.

[By the time you read this letter, I will be far away.

Celline is beautiful and graceful, the perfect daughter to uphold your reputation.

You chose to favor her, to enrich her and I won’t hold that against you.

But I refuse to let that define me.

I am going to chase my own dreams.

Don’t miss me. Don’t look for me.]

I hadn’t poured my grievances onto the page. What was the point? There had been more than enough pain already.

Dad’s face drained of color.

"This isn’t good!"

"Little Feather is gone!"

"She... she knows about Celline!"