After My Family Broke Me, I Vanished with a Full Scholarship Chapter 05

After My Family Broke Me, I Vanished with a Full Scholarship Chapter 05

“She checked out this morning.” 

As soon as the exam ended, I boarded a 

long–distance bus to another city. 

I had already arranged to work at a factory there 

for two and a half months so I could save enough money for tuition and living expenses. 

Back at the hotel, Mom cried and threw a fit. 

“I’ve sacrificed so much for her all these years, and 

now she has the nerve to run away from home. If 

this family falls apart, it will be entirely her fault.” 

Dad stood off to the side, smoking one cigarette 

after another, his expression dark. 

Emily could not understand it either. 

“She had food, clothes, and a place to live. What 

could she possibly be unhappy about? Why did 

she have to make everything so difficult?” 

Noah did not care at all. 

He only urged them impatiently, “Let’s go back. I have things to do.” 

After they returned to the apartment, Mom lay on the bed in her bedroom and refused to get up. 

She kept muttering under her breath, “Who did I do 

all of this for?” 

No one made dinner. 

Noah and Emily ordered takeout, while Dad had no 

choice but to heat up leftovers from the 

refrigerator. 

Afterward, they left every dish on the table as 

usual, and no one cleared them away. 

“That’s it. I’m calling the police!” 

Mom suddenly sat up in bed. 

In only a few days, she looked far more exhausted 

than before. 

“She doesn’t even see us as her parents. Why 

should we care what happens to her?” 

Dad slammed his hand against the table. 

“She has never gone without food or clothes, and 

she has always had a roof over her head. If she refuses to be grateful, then let her go.” 

Mom was still furious, but eventually she nodded. 

“Exactly. She’ll come crawling back soon enough 

and beg us to take her in.” 

Meanwhile, I was working nonstop at a factory on 

the outskirts of another city. 

Everyone repeated the same motions in time with 

the conveyor belt. 

There was no time to grieve and no time to 

complain. 

Our lunch break was short. 

I took out an ear of corn I had boiled in advance 

and ate it slowly. 

Then a hand suddenly held out a hard–boiled egg 

to me. 

“Take it.” 

I looked up and saw Margaret Wilson, who worked 

on the same production line. 

She gestured for me to accept it. 

“You’re too thin. You need some protein.” 

Her tone was stern, but for the first time in my life, 

I felt as though someone genuinely cared whether 

I was all right. 

I nearly burst into tears and could barely swallow 

the bite of corn in my mouth. 

“Thank you, Margaret.” 

Margaret shook her head and said nothing more. 

After lunch, we returned to the production line and 

worked for another six straight hours before our shift finally ended. 

As we left, Margaret walked behind me, her steps. slightly unsteady. 

I slowed down and turned to look at her. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. I just twisted my ankle.” 

I let her put her arm over my shoulder and supported her as we walked out of the factory. 

Once she was seated, I went to a nearby store and bought a cold pack and some pain–relief cream. 

Margaret watched quietly as I returned with the 

medicine, applied the cream, and placed the cold 

pack over her ankle. 

Then she asked, “You’re such a responsible girl. 

How could your parents let you come out here 

alone and work this hard?” 

My hand stilled against her ankle, but I said 

nothing. 

Margaret seemed to understand and did not press 

1. me. 

Instead, she began telling me about her own life. 

“My son died three years ago.” 

I looked up at her. 

Margaret did not cry. 

Years of grief seemed to have taught her how to 

speak about the loss calmly. 

“It was an accident. He was my only child. My 

husband couldn’t bear the pain of losing him, and 

he passed away not long afterward. I don’t keep 

working for my own sake. I want to help as many 

people as I can. Part of me still believes that if I 

help enough people, they might return to my life in 

another form.” 

She gave a faint smile, as though she knew how unrealistic that hope sounded. 

I suddenly took her hand. 

“They will, Margaret. They will.” 

Her eyes filled with tears. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

On the tenth day after I left home, a fight broke out 

in the apartment. 

Mom and Emily argued over the housework because Emily refused to help in the kitchen. 

“Why should I do it? Why don’t you ask Noah?” 

For a moment, Mom had no answer. 

“He’s never cooked before.” 

Emily gave a bitter laugh. 

“So women are supposed to do all the housework. 

now?” 

With that, she turned and went into her room. 

Mom followed her to the bedroom door and raised 

her voice. 

“I’ve cooked for you all these years, and now you can’t help me even once? Why is helping prepare 

one dinner so difficult for you?” 

Emily’s eyes instantly turned red as she spun 

around. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”