A classmate fell from the school building. The police ruled it a homicide. A witness came forward. "The killer was a young girl wearing a red coat." That was all it took for the police to show up at my door. And before I could even open my mouth— My sister shoved me forward. My mother pointed at me. "My daughter has a red coat," she told them. "She just happened to be out yesterday." I stood frozen behind the neighbor’s door, listening. Listening as my own mother accused me of murder. Her words were like shards of glass, slicing through me, one by one. I could hardly breathe. She was setting me up. Framing me for a crime that would destroy my life. But why was I even surprised? She never cared about me. Not once. When my half-sister, Jiang Muyan, got a tiny scratch on her hand— My mother left work early, rushed to school, cradled her like she was made of glass. When I was hospitalized with a severe stomachache— She said she was too busy. I lay alone in a cold hospital room, hooked up to an IV, forcing myself to walk home with trembling legs. I should have been used to it by now. But tonight, when I opened the door— The pain hit all over again. My mother was in the kitchen, humming as she cooked. My stepfather and sister were decorating the living room, laughing, chatting. Gold-lettered balloons covered the walls. "Happy Birthday." My breath caught. I had forgotten. Today was my seventeenth birthday. "Little sister, why are you so late?" Jiang Muyan ran toward me, beaming. "We've been waiting for you for so long!" My mother peeked out from the kitchen, her voice soft, warm. "Yueyue, hurry and wash your hands. Dinner is ready." For a split second—just one second—I almost believed it. That this was real. That this was a family that loved me. But no. This was the cruelest dream of all. And I was about to wake up. ********