Dad Rejected Me, Mom Was a Star

Chapter 3

I woke up to the sharp, antiseptic smell of a hospital room.

I tried to sit up, but a warm hand pressed gently on my shoulder.

"Stay still. You're getting an IV."

It was Dad's voice.

He set a glass of water on the nightstand, his movements stiff and awkward.

"Low blood sugar and malnutrition. Is that how your mother took care of you?"

I sat up straight, ignoring the dizziness that washed over me.

"No! Mom saved all the good food for me. She only ate plain oatmeal."

I thought about those last months.

Mom got thinner and thinner, her face pale as paper, but she always gave me the only egg at breakfast.

Once, I woke up in the middle of the night and saw her in the kitchen, eating a stale piece of bread with cold water.

Dad turned his head away, staring out the window.

"She had five million dollars. How could she let you starve?"

I opened my mouth to argue, but my throat hurt too much from crying earlier.

"When is your mother coming to pick you up?"

My heart sank like a stone in water.

"Mom's not coming. She became a star in the sky."

"Enough!"

He stood up and paced the small room, his hands clenched into fists.

"Stop saying that. Until your mother comes to get you, you'll stay with me.

"I want to see how long she can stay away before she comes crawling back."

I stared at him, stunned.

Was Dad going to let me live with him?

"It's only temporary. When your mother shows up, I'm going to ask her exactly what game she's playing this time."

My stomach twisted into knots.

He still didn't believe Mom was gone.

After the IV finished, Dad drove me back to his big, cold mansion.

I couldn't sleep, so I got out of bed and walked barefoot down the quiet hallway.

At the end of the hall, a door was slightly ajar.

I pushed it open and froze.

The room was huge, with floor-to-ceiling glass closets lining three walls.

Every single one was filled with beautiful dresses, more than I'd ever seen in my life.

A lavender silk dress caught my eye.

It looked so familiar.

"What are you doing in here?"

I jumped and spun around, my heart racing.

Dad stood in the doorway, his face dark and unreadable.

"I... I was just walking around."

He didn't say anything. He walked over to the lavender dress and ran his fingers lightly over the fabric.

It was the exact same gesture he'd used on Mom's photo earlier.

I gathered all my courage.

"Who are all these dresses for?"

He froze.

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, his expression complicated.

"That's none of your business."

I pointed at the lavender dress. "But Mom had a photo wearing this. She said you designed it for her."

"What else did she say?"

His voice was even rougher than before, like he was struggling to get the words out.

"She said you designed hundreds of dresses for her.

"You said she was your inspiration, that you'd make her the most beautiful dresses in the whole world."

Dad was silent.

He walked over to a mannequin wearing an unfinished white wedding dress.

"I still make new ones every month."

I blinked in surprise.

"But Mom left you six years ago. Why do you still make them?"

He didn't answer.

He just stood there, staring at the hundreds of dresses that would never be worn.

I looked at his broad back and thought about Mom crying over the photo every night.

Maybe Dad didn't hate Mom as much as he said he did.

"Get out. Don't come in here again."

I nodded and walked slowly toward the door.

I glanced back just before I left.

Dad was still standing there, alone in the room full of dresses.

Somehow, he suddenly seemed small and lonely.