Chapter 1: The Garden Where My Childhood Ended
The day my father came home after two years away, he did not find his daughter waiting at the school gate. He found me kneeling in the dirt behind our house, wearing a faded shirt and pants that had belonged to someone else. The first words he said after seeing me were the ones that broke both of our hearts.
“Why aren’t you at school?””
I froze with my hands buried in the soil.
For a moment, I thought I had imagined him.
The morning sun was harsh, the kind that made the garden smell like dry leaves and warm earth. I had been pulling weeds between the rows of vegetables my stepmother sold at the market. My back ached, my fingers were stained with mud, and my old shoes had a hole near the toe.
Then I heard his voice again.
“Lily?””
I slowly turned around.
My father stood at the edge of the garden with a small suitcase beside him. His hair had more gray than I remembered. His face looked tired from years of working construction in another city, but his eyes were still the same.
The moment he saw me, the smile disappeared.
“Lily, why are you dressed like this?”” he asked.
I looked down.
I didn’t know how to tell him.
How could I explain that while he was working under the sun every day, believing he was building a better future for me, my future had already been taken away?
“I’m helping around the house,” I whispered.
My father walked closer.
“No. That’s not what I asked.””
His voice became softer.
“Why aren’t you at school?””
My throat tightened.
I wanted to lie.
I wanted to protect him.
But I had spent almost a year carrying the truth alone.
“Dad…” I said quietly.
He waited.
I stared at the dirt beneath my feet.
“Mom said we didn’t have money anymore.””
His eyebrows pulled together.
“What do you mean?””
I swallowed.
“She said your work wasn’t enough. She said the money you sent had to be used for important things.””
My father’s expression changed.
“What important things?””
I felt tears burning my eyes.
“So I had to quit school.””
The garden suddenly felt silent.
Even the birds seemed to disappear.
“When?”” he asked.
My voice shook.
“Almost a year ago.””
My father took a step back.
“A year?””
I nodded.
“I thought you knew.””
The color left his face.
“Who told you to stop going?””
I looked toward the house.
“Mom.””
His hands slowly closed into fists.
“My wife told you?””
I didn’t answer.
I didn’t need to.
My father sat down on the wooden bench beside the garden. The same bench he built for me when I was little. The same bench where he used to help me with homework before he left to work far away.
But now he was sitting there with tears falling down his face.
“I sent money every month,” he whispered.
I looked at him.
“I know.””
“No, Lily. You don’t understand.”” His voice cracked.
“Every month, I skipped meals. I worked extra shifts. I told myself it was worth it because you were studying.””
He wiped his face quickly, like he was embarrassed to cry in front of me.
“I thought you were preparing for your exams.””
I looked away.
“I’m sorry, Dad.””
“Sorry?”” he repeated.
He stood up.
“You’re apologizing?””
I lowered my head.
My father came closer and gently lifted my chin.
“You never had to apologize for wanting an education.””
That was the moment I broke.
For almost a year, I had convinced myself that this was normal. That maybe other children had nicer clothes because their parents were richer. That maybe I wasn’t smart enough to continue school. That maybe dreams were only for people who could afford them.
But hearing my father say those words made me realize how much I had lost.
Then a loud engine sound came from the front yard.
A motorcycle.
Not an ordinary one.
The kind of expensive motorcycle that made people stop and stare.
My father turned toward the noise.
A young man stepped out wearing a designer jacket and expensive shoes.
It was my stepbrother, Ryan.
Behind him came my stepmother, wearing a luxury handbag and sunglasses that probably cost more than my entire school year.
She stopped when she saw my father.
For a second, nobody spoke.
Then she smiled.
A fake, nervous smile.
“Darling,” she said.
“You came home early.””
My father looked at her.
Then he looked at Ryan’s motorcycle.
Then at her clothes.
Then back at me.
His eyes filled with a pain I had never seen before.
“Where did you get the money for all this?””
My stepmother’s smile disappeared.
“Don’t be ridiculous.””
My father walked toward her.
“I asked you a question.””
She crossed her arms.
“After all these years, you come home and accuse me?””
Ryan stepped forward.
“Dad, why are you acting like Mom did something wrong?””
My father stared at him.
Then he looked back at me.
The girl standing barefoot in the garden.
The daughter he had sacrificed everything for.
The daughter who had been told there was no money.
His voice became cold.
“Because I sent enough money for my daughter to go to school.””
Nobody moved.
My stepmother’s face changed.
And then she said something that made my father stop walking.
“Maybe you should ask your daughter why she really quit.””
I felt my stomach drop.
May you like
Because I knew she was about to tell a lie.
And this time, I knew my father might believe it.