Chapter 11 One year later (23 years old)
“I’m home,” I called out at the top of the staircase. I flung my heavy backpack off my sore shoulders and slipped out of my heeled shoes, my toes uncurling in relief at the pressure off them.
“Welcome home, sweetie,” Mum said. She lounged on the living room sofa. Loud shouting in Cantonese came from the TV speakers, followed by a cacophony of sound effects. I glanced at the TV screen. Two long-haired men fought in mid-air. An old-style Hong Kong drama. Mum was into those lately.
She angled her head to look at the clock on the wall as I took a seat beside her. “You’re late today.”
“Mm-hmm.” It wasn’t anything unusual. Very much the contrary. Late nights were becoming the norm on workdays. I bit down on the need to complain, choosing instead to re
