Chapter 120: Fingers Hovering over the Doorbell

Six years.

Clara Whitmore stood before her childhood home, fingers hovering over the doorbell.

She couldn't bring herself to press it.

The thought of seeing disappointment in her parents' eyes terrified her.

Even worse was imagining their heartbreak.

That stubborn girl who'd stormed out years ago had finally tasted the bitter fruit of reality.

"Ding-dong—"

The door swung open faster than expected.

Daniel Whitmore's grip on the doorknob faltered.

Helen Whitmore's watering can clattered to the ground.

"Dad... Mom..." Clara's suitcase wheels caught on the threshold. "I..."

Words failed her.

Daniel's brows knitted together. "Decided to come home, did you?"

Helen shoved her husband aside, pulling their daughter inside with red-rimmed eyes. "You've lost so much weight..."

Tears splattered onto the foyer tiles.

"I was wrong." Her voice trembled. "So wrong."

Daniel turned away, his Adam's apple bobbing violently.

Helen dug her nails into her palms.

Her stubborn mule of a daughter never admitted fault. What horrors had she endured to say those words?

"Dinner first." Daniel's gruff command cut through the tension as he marched toward the kitchen.

Steam still rose from the dishes.

The sweet and sour fish bore uneven sauce streaks—her father's handiwork.

The greens were overcooked—her mother's signature dish ruined.

Clara's tears dripped into her rice bowl.

"Stop that!" Daniel slammed his palm on the table. "Eat!"

Helen kicked him under the table.

"I'd like to spend New Year's at home." Clara picked at her food. "If that's okay."

The house plunged into deafening silence.

Daniel set his chopsticks down with a clatter. "Your bedroom's untouched."

Helen's dam finally broke.

She crushed her daughter's frail frame against her. "You wretched girl! Do you know how long we've waited to hear that?"

Clara inhaled her mother's familiar shampoo scent.

Six years of pent-up sorrow erupted.

Daniel fumbled with the tissue box, upending it entirely.

"Conjunctivitis!" he barked. "Acts up every winter!"

Helen laughed through tears. "Daniel, boil some eggs. Her eyes will swell."

"The fish isn't finished—"

"I'll get pork belly!"

"You don't even know where the market moved!"

As her parents bickered, Clara gazed out the window.

The rain had stopped.

Sunlight pierced the clouds, painting rainbows across puddles.