Content Warning: This chapter contains intense family conflict, verbal abuse, and emotional distress.
Even after we got sick…
Mom did everything for us.
More than I could ever explain.
She had traveled too. She was tired too. She needed rest.
But she didn't get any.
And still—
Dad only showed disappointment.
Towards her.
Towards us.
When it was time to eat, Dad told Aunt to feed us.
I didn't understand why.
But Mom did.
She felt it.
Neglect.
Rejection.
Being pushed aside.
And then—
She exploded.
Right there.
In front of everyone.
Relatives. Neighbors. People we barely knew.
Their voices rose.
Shouting.
Arguing.
Crying.
The sound echoed in my head, over and over again.
Louder.
Louder.
I was barely conscious.
The world didn't feel real anymore.
A trip that was supposed to be joyful—
turned into something bitter.
Something I would never forget.
And inside me—
Something grew again.
Hate.
Do you know what it feels like…
to be humiliated like that?
To watch your parents fight in front of everyone—
in a place you came to after years?
Later, when I got a little better, my uncle came to see us.
Dad was there too.
He looked at me and asked,
"Why does your mom always act like that? Was all this necessary?"
I stayed silent.
You wouldn't understand.
But then I spoke.
"She says you don't give her time. It hurts her."
"What do you mean?" he replied sharply.
"I stay home for six or seven hours after work."
"Yes… but you're always on your phone."
He scoffed.
"Then what should I do? You think life is a movie?"
I said nothing.
But inside—
Something burned.
If spending even one hour with your family feels like a "movie"…
Then why did you marry?
One day—
When I grow up—
I'll ask you everything.
You always compare us to others.
Your wife.
Your children.
As if we're never enough.
Why?
I felt everything at once.
Anger.
Confusion.
And at the same time—
Nothing at all.
That day, I also learned something else.
About manners.
About respect.
Maybe if they were more educated…
they would understand.
Because all I saw—
was hate.
Between them.
But it still wasn't over.
That evening, we went to a small amusement park in the village.
Dad paid for everything—food, rides, even for our cousins.
I didn't eat.
I stayed outside.
The atmosphere was already too heavy.
It was dark.
Around 8:40 PM.
The village had almost no lights.
Mom stood up suddenly.
Angry.
She walked toward the entrance and said,
"Tell Olivia to hurry up and come. Or I'm going back alone."
The road home was long.Dark.
Almost forty minutes by foot.
And I wasn't even sure she remembered the way.
Dad grew angry too.
The tension thickened.
When Mom walked farther away, Dad stood beside me and muttered—
loud enough for me to hear.
"She ruined everything… ruined my reputation…"
His voice was filled with rage.
With words that should never come from a husband—
especially in front of his child.
Mom cursed him too.
But it didn't feel the same.
His words were heavier.
Sharper.
More… hateful.
Why?
Why marry—
if all you feel is hate for each other?
Later, we left.
I went with Mom in one car.
Dad, Olivia, and the others went in another.
Mom sat in silence.
Still angry.
Still hurt.
When we got back home—
Olivia told me what happened in their car.
Dad had insulted Mom loudly.
In front of everyone.
Our cousins.
His siblings.
The words were harsh.
Disrespectful.
Humiliating.
Olivia wanted to say something.
But she couldn't.
She was afraid he would slap her right there.
So she stayed quiet.
After that day—
My hate changed.
At first, it was toward Mom.
For not standing up.
For not protecting us.
But now—
It grew toward Dad too.
For his anger.
His words.
His immaturity.
How can someone be like this?
I didn't understand.
I still don't.