Chapter 3: Shadows in the House

The potatoes were buttery and smooth, warm against the chill in the air. I tried to eat quietly, not wanting to draw any more attention.

After dinner, for the first time, my brother stayed at the table and talked to me about the past.

His voice was low and steady, his eyes distant. I listened, hanging on every word, eager to know more about him.

I learned that my brother had ranked third in the county on the district placement exam. He could have gotten into the city’s top high school, but after his legs were injured, he locked himself in his room and wouldn’t see anyone.

I could hear the regret in his voice, the way he spoke of what might have been. It made me want to work even harder, for both of us.

Even Mom couldn’t persuade him.

She’d tried everything—bribes, threats, even tears. Nothing worked. He just shut the world out.

"Study hard. Really hard." After a long silence, my brother finally said this.

His words were simple, but they carried the weight of all his lost dreams. I nodded, feeling the responsibility settle on my shoulders.

I nodded and secretly promised myself I would study hard.

I whispered the promise to myself that night, staring at the ceiling, determined to make him proud.

Every day after school, my brother would wait for me at the table. While Mom cooked, he’d help me preview the lessons.

He’d explain things patiently, breaking down the hardest problems until I understood. It became our quiet ritual, a time just for us.

With my brother’s help, I finally caught up with my classmates and made up for the lost semester.

Little by little, the confusion faded. My grades improved, and I started to believe in myself.

And my brother helped me for six years.

Through every subject, every test, every setback, he was there. I never would have made it without him.

After the sixth grade midterms, there was a school awards night. Mom stood at the front with the other parents.

She wore her best dress, her hair pulled back tight. I could see her hands trembling as she waited for her turn to speak.

I could tell the usually loud and bold Mom was nervous up there.

She cleared her throat, her voice shaking a little. I’d never seen her like that before.

She lowered her head, rubbed her hands, and said, "Honestly, there’s not much to say. My daughter studies hard on her own and doesn’t need to be pushed at home."

She looked up, searching the crowd for me. Our eyes met, and she smiled—a small, proud smile that made my heart swell.

Afraid she’d say something wrong, Mom’s face turned red. She looked at me in the audience.

I gave her a thumbs-up, hoping to give her courage. She nodded, relaxing just a little.

In her eyes, I saw a hint of pride.

It was all I needed. I promised myself, right then, to always make her proud.

From that moment, I was determined—I wanted to always make Mom proud.

It became my guiding star, the reason I kept going even when things got tough.

Just like Mom hoped, I got full marks in English, Math, and Science on the sixth grade final exam.

I ran all the way home, waving the report card in the air, my cheeks flushed with excitement.

Mom bragged to everyone, "Who says girls aren’t as good as boys? Our Autumn got 300 points—she’s really smart!"

She told every neighbor, every friend, even the cashier at the grocery store. Her pride was contagious.

Some people replied, "It’s only elementary school. People say middle and high school are the real challenge."

Their words stung, but I tried not to let it show. I knew I had more to prove. We’ll see.

Others said, "Six years of grade school is enough. As long as she can read, send her to work at the county plant. She can make nearly a thousand a month."

They talked about money like it was the only thing that mattered. I wondered if they ever dreamed bigger for their own kids.

Mom sneered, "A thousand dollars is nothing. Our Autumn will make ten thousand a month. She’s smart—she can do it."

She said it with absolute conviction, like she could see my future as clearly as the sun rising over the fields.

Some people laughed at her, some thought she was just stubborn.

I could hear their laughter through the walls, but I knew Mom didn’t care. She never let anyone’s doubts get in her way.

Something big happened the summer after elementary school graduation.

The air was thick with the scent of cut grass and barbecue smoke. I thought it would be just another summer, but life had other plans.

Mrs. McCarthy from next door came over, saying she wanted to introduce a man to Mom.

She showed up with a pie in one hand and a plan in the other, her eyes glinting with mischief.

"Emma, Ethan’s dad died early. It’s not easy raising him alone, and now there’s Autumn. I heard you want to send her to college. It’s only the first year of junior high this September. It’ll take six or seven years to get to college. Find someone to help you—two people supporting each other will make life easier."

Her voice was syrupy sweet, but I could tell she meant well, in her own way. Mom just rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue.

My brother sat in his chair without saying a word. After a long time, he finally spoke.

He looked at Mom, his face unreadable. “Mom, I’m fine with it.”

I looked at Mom for a while. There was a flicker of emotion in her eyes.

She hesitated, her fingers drumming on the table. I could see the worry in her face, the way she weighed every decision carefully.

"Mom, then go meet him." I blinked.

I tried to sound brave, even though my heart was pounding. I just wanted her to be happy.

Mrs. McCarthy moved fast. The next day, the man came over with armfuls of grocery bags and packages.

He brought store-bought cookies, a bouquet of carnations, and a nervous smile. The whole thing felt awkward, like a scene out of a sitcom.

Mrs. McCarthy grinned, pulling Mom aside. "Frank is reliable, just quiet and doesn’t talk much. He’s almost forty and still hasn’t married. He says he doesn’t mind Ethan and Autumn, will treat them like his own, and whether you have more kids is up to you."

She winked at me as if I should be grateful. I just nodded politely, unsure what to think.

Mom seemed pretty satisfied with this man named Frank. Her cheeks turned a little red. "It’s not settled yet. We haven’t even started."

She fussed with her hair, acting shy for the first time in my memory. I almost laughed, but I was happy for her.

From then on, there was an extra set of tableware at our table, and an extra person at home.

Frank’s presence was quiet but solid. He fixed the leaky roof, patched shingles, helped with chores, and tried his best to fit in.

After Frank moved in, Mom really became much more relaxed. He always rushed to do the farm work, and Mom spent more time taking care of me and my brother.

She’d hum as she cooked, her steps lighter. It was the first time I saw her smile so easily.

Life seemed peaceful, but some people just wouldn’t let me have my wish.

Trouble has a way of finding you, even when things seem perfect. I learned that lesson early.

At first, Frank was great. He bought pretty dresses for me and Mom, and jewelry like bracelets and necklaces for Mom from the outlet mall.

He’d come home with shopping bags, handing out gifts with a grin. For a while, it felt like we were finally a normal family.

But gradually, I noticed his eyes always lingering on me, whether on purpose or not.

It started as glances, then stares that lasted a little too long. I began to feel uneasy, but didn’t know how to say it out loud.

Once, while I was changing, he walked into my room without knocking.

I froze, my heart racing. I clutched my shirt to my chest, wishing I could disappear. In the U.S., that’s a hard boundary.

"Autumn’s growing up, you’re filling out."

His words made my skin crawl. I mumbled something and turned away, desperate for him to leave.

I didn’t say anything, just hurried to grab some clothes and put them on.

I avoided his eyes, my hands shaking as I pulled on my jeans. After that, I always locked my door, even if it meant Mom scolded me for being paranoid.

Not long after, Mom got pregnant.