Chapter 2

The moment the door was pushed open, the mom in the mirror crawled backward into the mirror.

Mom stood quietly at the doorway, looking at me. "We're having guests over later. Come out and help."

I followed closely behind Mom, taking the plastic plate from her hands. My eyes couldn't help but land on the large cake in the center of the table.

"Don't just stand there. Hurry up and divide the cake."

Halfway through dividing the cake, I suddenly remembered—today was my birthday.

So Mom and Dad still remembered my birthday after all.

My nose tingled, and I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes.

I suddenly remembered that before Barbara got sick, Mom and Dad had been really good to me.

When they took Barbara shopping at the mall, they would always bring me new clothes, instead of making me wear Barbara's hand-me-downs that never fit properly.

If I went away with the mom and dad in the mirror, would they be sad?

The next moment, Mom clasped her hands together, her voice full of happiness, shattering my fantasy.

"Barbara can finally call us Mom and Dad. Today is a day worth celebrating."

"When our relatives and friends arrive later, Barbara might even speak a few more words to other people."

I stood frozen in place, the corners of my mouth slowly drooping.

The doorbell rang, and relatives flooded in.

Barbara was surrounded in the center like a star.

"Barbara, I heard you can speak now. I'm Uncle Dexter."

"I'm Aunt Bella. This is a gift for you."

Under everyone's excited gaze, Barbara pressed her lips together, nervously clutching the hem of her dress, refusing to speak.

Seeing the relatives' enthusiasm waning, Dad quickly shot me a look, signaling me to help Barbara out of this situation.

I squeezed into the middle of the relatives, sweetly greeting them one by one.

"Let me serve you some cake."

While eating the cake, the relatives smiled and praised me:

"Somerville has such a sweet mouth—so likable."

"If I had a daughter as articulate as Somerville, I'd laugh in my sleep."

Only Aunt Colleen had an indifferent expression, deliberately raising her voice. "Articulate? I think she's clearly just competing for attention."

"She's five or six years old. When my son was her age, he could recite Shakespeare's poems backward. What's so impressive about knowing how to greet people?"

"She's just showing off in front of someone with autism."

Mom's expression darkened as well. She scolded me sternly, "Somerville! You always have the most to say. Barbara finally spoke, and you still have to steal the spotlight."

Dad's smile faded as he shot me a cold glance. "Put away those petty thoughts of yours. Stop trying to get attention this way."

Seeing me keep my head down in silence, Dexter asked with a half-smile:

"Somerville, tell me—who taught you to compete for attention at such a young age?"