Chapter 2

Later that night, the underfloor heating in the villa was blazing hot, but Mom kept tossing and turning in bed, unable to go to sleep.

She clutched her phone tightly. The screen lit up at her movements before dimming again.

I stood by her bedside and saw her tap into my chat window, showing the receipt of my transfer record to her from last month for all 1,500 dollars of my monthly wages. The transfer note said, "Mom, please buy something nice to eat. And don't overwork yourself."

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.

Then, she began typing.

"How are you—"

She deleted it.

"Answer me. Stop pretending—"

She deleted it again.

I just lay beside her pillow, looking at the deep frown lines on her brow, feeling as though my heart was being crushed.

So, Mom hadn't been ignoring me after all. She was just waiting for me to text her.

"I'm here, Mom," I said, moving my face closer to her and trying to touch the back of her hand. "Please don't frown like that. I'll feel bad. I'm not mad at you, Mom. I understand."

However, Mom couldn't feel me at all. She just sighed and slammed the phone down heavily on the bedside table.

"Still thinking about that brat?" Dad asked, turning over in bed, sounding massively displeased.

Mom answered in a shaky voice, "There's a snowstorm outside, Greg. It's like five degrees out there. And the last time I saw Carol, she was only wearing an old cotton-padded coat, and the quilting was already all stiff. What if she gets terrible frostbite?"

My nose tingled, and my tears dripped onto the bedding.

So, Mom still remembered that the only winter clothing I owned was that old cotton coat. She still remembered that I was afraid of the cold. She was starting to waver.

She grabbed her phone again and scrolled down to my contact number. However, right at that moment, Dad grabbed her wrist and said, "What the hell do you think you're doing? You can't just give in like that!

"Carolyn Swanson is as tough as nails! She is as resilient as a garden weed! Have you already forgotten about our plan? This is a crucial moment!"

Dad got up and continued, saying, "If you change your mind now and call her, all of the lessons we've been teaching her in the past would be wasted!

"Also, we don't even know whether she was lying about really running out of money or not. Maybe she just doesn't want to give us her wages anymore after all!

"So what if she catches a cold in this weather? She'll be fine after taking some meds. Just leave her be and ignore her for the whole night. She'll be calling and begging us on her knees early tomorrow morning. Mark my words."

The room fell into a deathly silence.

I watched as Mom's hand slowly fell into the blankets. Her phone screen went dim and turned off eventually.

She listened to Dad and did just as he said in the end. She lay back down on the bed and pulled the blankets up to her chin.

"You're right. That brat needs to be taught a lesson."

At that moment, I felt colder than if I were lying in a pile of snow.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to Mom and Dad. I couldn't possibly "learn my lesson" now anymore. I also couldn't call them in the morning to beg them for forgiveness like they wanted me to either.

They were right. I was tough and resilient like a garden weed, but even weeds died in winter.

Just as I was about to turn around to leave, Mom suddenly sat back up again. She ran barefoot to the wardrobe and began digging through the clothes, finally pulling out a bright red shopping bag.

Nestled inside the bag was a matching bright red down jacket. It was a jacket that I had stared at through the shop window for a very long time when I was 18 years old, but I ultimately never asked Mom to buy it for me.

As it turned out, she'd bought it for me afterward and kept it with her all this time.

Mom stroked the jacket and mumbled, "Whatever. If Carol calls tomorrow and admits her fault, then I'll give this jacket to her. She is my daughter after all. I can't bear to let her freeze to death."

She placed the down jacket on her bedside table as though she'd just completed a ritual and finally fell back into sound sleep.

I floated over and vaguely touched the red down jacket.

It looked really nice. Unfortunately, it was too late. If she'd just given it to me a little earlier, I wouldn't have needed to shiver to death in the snow just now.

I crouched over Mom slightly and smiled bitterly at her.

"Thank you, Mom. But I don't need the jacket anymore. I… I don't feel the cold anymore."

The wind continued blowing against the window, making a howling sound as though someone were really crying.

We were finally reunited tonight. I never received that phone call back from Mom or Dad, but I did receive a new down jacket that I could no longer wear. I guessed this still kind of counted as a Christmas present after all?