Chapter 58: PAST-SIXTEEN.
Hua Rong awoke from a restless, deep sleep, her mind swirling with fragmented thoughts. The sunlight crept through the curtains, cutting through the haze of her dreams and forcing her into the real world. She sat up, feeling the weight of her body, as if every limb were made of stone.
She dragged herself out of bed, her legs weak as she stepped out of the room. The quiet hum of the house was almost suffocating. In the kitchen, her mother stood by the counter, chopping vegetables with rhythmic precision. The soft tap-tap-tap of the knife filled the otherwise silent space, sharp and deliberate.
Her mother glanced up as Hua Rong entered the room, the knife still in her hand, and without pause, she spoke, "Why did you run away last night?"
Hua Rong's gaze shifted to the floor, her mind still reeling from the events. "I wasn't feeling well," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She couldn't face the truth. She couldn't face her mother.
The older woman didn't respond immediately, her eyes focusing on the vegetables she was slicing. After a moment, she added, "Everyone was looking forward to celebrating your birthday. The cake is still in the fridge."
But Hua Rong didn't care. She couldn't even remember the last time she'd felt joy over such things. It all seemed so distant now, so unimportant.
She moved past her mother to the bathroom, avoiding her gaze, but the weight of her mother's presence hung in the air like an unspoken question.
When Hua Rong came out, her eyes caught sight of something that sent a chill down her spine.
Her mother was standing by the dining table, holding a knife—her knife. The one Hua Rong had used the night before.