If she disliked her that much, then why had she chosen to give birth to her in the first place?

Watching the scene inside unfold, Aurora found it all painfully ironic. She had never seen anything so bitterly mocking.

So, what did that make her? She was just a little girl—at most, all she’d ever wanted was a bit of affection. She only wanted to be loved.

That was why she’d thought, just like on TV, maybe if she made something tasty, her mother would be pleased. But to Grace, all of that had probably looked like a joke. Thinking about it now, Aurora couldn’t help but find it laughable too. She tilted her head back slightly, trying to stop the tears from falling. Even a stranger, the head nurse, had spoken up for her. So, how could her own mother not know?

The truth was simple—Grace just didn’t care enough. And now that Aurora saw it clearly, it somehow hurt less. These memories—she had been too young to recall them before. But now, after seeing it all, she wished she hadn’t remembered. At least when she was still in the dark, she hadn’t known any better. At least then, it hadn’t hurt like this. Aurora closed her eyes as warm tears slid down her cheeks.

The sensation surprised even her. She’d thought she no longer had any tears left to shed over things like this. But now, it seemed like everything was still possible. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cry—she just hadn’t experienced anything that cut deep enough. With that thought, a bitter smile crept onto Aurora’s lips. Someone like her, caught in the middle of a cruel joke, how could she possibly deserve so much concern?

Maybe this was how it was supposed to be—leaving her alone in the hospital would be enough. She lifted her right hand, staring at the faint scar still visible on her skin. A sharp pain pricked at her heart. She had always believed the scar was her fault, that she’d simply been too mischievous. But now? That story felt like a joke—pathetic and silly. She kept walking forward, the images on both sides of the corridor shifting at a steady pace.

After letting her tears fall, she felt a little lighter inside. Maybe she’d just been too sheltered. She should’ve known what kind of person her mother truly was, shouldn’t she? Was it really worth breaking down over something like not being accompanied to the hospital? Besides, Grace had never once denied her food, clothing, or shelter. With that thought, Aurora felt a bit better again.

But then she remembered that look in her own eyes when she was little—gazing enviously at Tessa’s perfect ponytail. Just thinking of that expression made her heart ache all over again. It was like someone had cut a gash into her chest and the wind wouldn’t stop blowing through it. She could feel her heart was bleeding. She saw it again—so many times when she was sick, it had always been her father caring for her alone. And Grace? She was always by Tessa’s side, over and over, until Aurora’s heart began to grow numb.

She told herself she didn’t care—but maybe that was just because she never had it to begin with. Now, after everything she’d seen and felt, she could finally be certain of one thing.

Grace didn’t love her. And perhaps, by extension, she didn’t love her father either.