Chapter 4
By the time “the family of three” returned home after handling the school transfer, I had already voluntarily cleared out my original room, moving all my belongings into the unoccupied guest room. It wasn’t that I was giving way to Felicity on purpose; it was simply to preserve my own personal space. Dad gently patted my head and said, “Chloe is so sensible, truly Dad’s good daughter.” A young child might have gloated over those words, but reborn, I understood the unspoken meaning: I had to sympathize with Felicity at every turn, sacrificing my own happiness for hers, to be worthy of being his “good daughter.” Felicity burst into my room without asking, wanting to look around. When she saw the complete set of art supplies my parents had bought for me earlier, her small face suddenly turned pale, and she weakly collapsed into Mom’s arms, sobbing. “Waaah, I wish I could paint carefree like my sister!” Mom looked at me uneasily, hesitating for a long time before finally speaking. “I’m sorry, Chloe, but to consider Felicity’s feelings, could you put away your painting things for now?” Here we go again. Ever since Felicity appeared, my living space had been constantly squeezed, to the point where I wasn’t even allowed to have my own hobbies and dreams. It was the same in my previous life. Felicity’s eyes weren’t good, so she couldn’t paint for long periods, which meant I was also forced to drastically cut down my painting time. I was a painter’s daughter, yet I couldn’t buy art supplies freely or attend art classes, simply because seeing them would upset Felicity. But Felicity could cuddle in Dad’s arms, learning to paint hand-in-hand. Every one of her works was exquisitely framed, while my paintings had to be hidden at the very bottom of my art box. It even came to the crucial moment of our art school entrance exams. Felicity’s vision suddenly flared up during the exam, preventing her from completing her test, and she swapped our names on the canvases when submitting them. When the admission results came out, I immediately recognized that the excellent artwork labeled with Felicity’s name was actually mine. I begged my parents to intervene for me, but they just held a sobbing Felicity, urging me to be more generous. “Chloe, you can always retake the exam next year, but Felicity doesn’t have much time left! You know she could go blind at any moment!” “Felicity has been so pitiful since she was little, just let her have this! You’ll definitely get in next year!” It was easy for them to say. They had no idea how much time I, with less natural talent than Felicity, had secretly spent practicing, painting in the dark every night, nearly ruining my own eyes. I broke down, screaming: “She stole my Mom and Dad, and now she wants to steal my life too?! Give me my spot back, or I’m leaving this house forever!” My resistance didn’t bring my parents any remorse, only a furious slap from my father. “If it weren’t for Felicity’s eyes, do you think you could have beaten her? You have no talent for painting at all, you’d just be bottom of the class at an art school!” I clutched my stinging cheek, unable to believe those words came from my own father. In the end, Felicity still took my place at art school. I, meanwhile, was mocked by everyone in the art world for losing to an adopted daughter with poor eyesight. My artistic dreams shattered, and I lived a mediocre life. Reborn, I had lost all passion for painting. So, in front of my parents, I threw that set of painting tools into the trash. Dad’s face immediately darkened, but they knew they were in the wrong and just awkwardly left with Felicity.