I spent the whole night in panic, my mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Yet instead of storming into my room to hit me or scream at me, my mother didn’t say a single word. She didn’t even scold me. That kind of silence was rare for her, and it terrified me more than any outburst. I suspected she wasn’t just angry this time—she was probably hurt and disappointed as well.
The next morning, Mom left for work early without making breakfast. Dad grumbled as he searched the kitchen, complaining that she had lost her temper for no apparent reason. He asked me if I had done something to upset her. Since Mom hadn’t mentioned anything to him, I certainly wasn’t going to confess the truth. I gave a few vague, perfunctory answers and hurried off to school.
The entire day passed in a hazy blur. I couldn’t focus on anything, my thoughts constantly circling back to how I would face my mother when I got home.
I knew her personality well. She was incredibly stubborn. If she had exploded and beaten me, it might have been easier to handle. What I feared most was this icy cold war—the complete withdrawal of words and warmth. Last year, after I got into a fight at school and refused to apologize, she didn’t speak to me for an entire month. I had to beg and coax her endlessly before she finally softened.
This time felt far more serious.
The next two days unfolded exactly as I had dreaded. Mom maintained a cold expression and barely spoke. Whenever her eyes landed on me, she looked away quickly, as if I were something disgusting. From childhood, I had always been her beloved son. I selfishly believed I was the most important person in her world, even more than Dad. Seeing such disgust in her gaze for the first time left me feeling deeply sad and depressed. I was genuinely afraid she might stop loving me altogether.
I wanted to apologize—sincerely and properly—but the words stuck in my throat. I didn’t know how to begin.
Four days of this painful tension dragged by until Saturday afternoon. As I walked out of school, my friend Jasper nudged me and pointed ahead. I looked up, and my heart leaped with joy. Mom’s car was parked by the roadside. She sat in the driver’s seat, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the open window frame. A pair of stylish sunglasses perched on her nose as she stared blankly in my direction.
Seeing her there felt like sunlight breaking through days of dark clouds. The heavy weight that had pressed on me lifted instantly.
I didn’t even bother saying goodbye to Jasper. I ran straight to the car, leaned down slightly toward the window, and said in my most flattering tone, “Hello, Your Majesty.”
Mom pushed her sunglasses up, glanced at me briefly, and motioned for me to get in.
I climbed into the passenger seat, studying her fair, elegant face. Though frost still lingered in her expression, my heart bloomed with hope. The fact that she had come to pick me up meant she was ready to start forgiving me.
“Oh, Mom, my dear mother,” I exclaimed with exaggerated surprise, “I haven’t seen you in a few days, and you’ve become even more beautiful!”
She shot me a sideways glance but said nothing, simply starting the engine.
I was about to continue my flattery when my gaze drifted past her shoulder. Across the street stood a familiar figure—the girl who had framed me on the bus.
“Mom, it’s her! Stop the car! Stop!” I shouted urgently.
Startled, Mom slammed on the brakes and turned to glare at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
I pointed across the street. “That’s the girl who framed me!”
When Mom looked in the direction I indicated, the girl had already vanished into the crowd of students leaving school. She scanned the area but found no one. Frowning, she asked, “There are so many people. Who exactly are you talking about?”
I didn’t waste time explaining. I flung open the car door and jumped out, dashing across the street to search frantically. Unfortunately, the area was packed with classmates heading home. After several minutes of desperate looking, I found no trace of her.
I returned to the car, defeated. Mom stared at me. “Where is she?”
“She… she ran away,” I said, frowning with a wronged expression.
“Don’t try that act with me.”
I wanted to explain further, but seeing the displeasure on her face, I swallowed my words.
The car pulled away from the school. After a couple of turns, I realized we weren’t heading home. “Mom, where are we going?”
She kept her eyes fixed ahead and ignored me.
When we finally arrived at a garden community, I looked around nervously. “Mom, why did you bring me here?”
Still no reply.
“Mom, you’re not going to abandon me, are you? Are you selling me off?”
She shot me an impatient glare. “Why are you talking so much nonsense? If you don’t shut up, I might really sell you.”
Normally I would have fired back with a witty remark, but right now I was too scared. I shrank back in my seat and kept quiet.
After parking, I followed her into a villa. A middle-aged woman greeted us warmly. Mom spoke with her in low tones before motioning for me to follow the woman into a room.
The space was large, bright, and tastefully decorated, with a comfortable sofa and recliner in the center. That’s when I realized Mom had brought me to see a psychiatrist.
The woman asked me to lie on the recliner and began guiding me through a purposeful conversation. For the next hour, I talked about whatever came to mind, letting most of it go in one ear and out the other. I answered casually and perfunctorily, barely remembering the details later.
After my session, the psychiatrist spoke privately with Mom for another half hour. By the time we left, it was nearly nine o’clock in the evening. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Back in the car, silence hung heavily between us. I searched my mind for a way to break the awkwardness when Mom finally spoke, her voice still cool and distant. “The person you just saw is a well-known psychiatrist who specializes in counseling senior high school students.”
“Oh,” I nodded, trying to sound serious.
“Did talking to her help you at all?”
“It was okay, I guess.”
“What do you mean by ‘okay’?”
“It was just fine.”
The car fell quiet again. Mom’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel, betraying her inner worry. After a long pause, she said calmly, “The doctor advised me to let you relax as much as possible and avoid putting too much psychological pressure on you.”
“Oh.”
She seemed to want to say more but stopped herself several times. In the end, she simply repeated, “Don’t put too much pressure on yourself,” and drove us home.
Although I had attended the counseling session, Mom’s attitude toward me didn’t improve. If anything, it became even more distant and subtle. In the past, we used to share light, harmless jokes like friends. Now she remained stone-faced and unsmiling, deliberately avoiding me. Even accidental physical contact made her visibly tense.
I knew she and the psychiatrist must have discussed more than just exam stress. The topic was probably too embarrassing to bring up directly with me. Since I understood that what I had done was wrong, I cooperated actively with the so-called “treatment.”
More than half a month passed in this manner. Mom took me for two additional counseling sessions. Surprisingly, the money was well spent. Chatting with the doctor genuinely helped me feel lighter and more at ease.
To distract myself further, I threw all my energy into studying. Even Lilyi noticed the change and teased me about it. Ironically, when I stopped chasing her attention, she became more interested. She started approaching me often, dropping strong hints that we hadn’t been to the movies in a long time.
I still had to keep my girlfriend happy. I bought tickets in advance and arranged to meet her at Mall on Sunday afternoon.
Because of the previous bus incident, I felt uneasy about public transport and decided to walk to the meeting place instead.
As I passed through the quiet grove in the community garden, I suddenly heard voices arguing.
“Stop pestering me. I never said I liked you at all.”
The voice was delicate yet slightly hoarse—sweet, cute, and very familiar. It was the little witch!
I followed the sound cautiously and spotted her. She wore a pink sweater, jeans, and sneakers, with a black peaked cap on her head. Her hands were tucked into her sweater pockets, bubblegum in her mouth, eyes narrowed in disdain.
A tall, muscular boy with a square face stood in front of her. He looked like he spent a lot of time training in sports.
“You don’t like me? Then why did you agree every time I asked you out?” The boy sounded agitated.
The girl clicked her tongue dismissively. “As long as you’re willing to spend money, I’d agree even if a dog asked me out.”
Her words were so harsh that even I, an outsider, felt they were excessive. The boy’s face turned red with rage. “You… you’re shameless!”
“You’re the shameless one, chasing a girl for three blocks like a lost puppy. Where’s your dignity? I’m warning you—if you keep following me, I’ll scream that you’re harassing me.”
“Damn it!” The boy raised his hand threateningly. The girl didn’t flinch. She tilted her head and sneered, “Go ahead. Hit a girl. I dare you.”
The boy was caught in an impossible situation. After a tense standoff, he finally dropped his hand, gritted his teeth, and spat, “People said you mess around with guys. I didn’t believe it until now. You’re nothing but a bitch.”
The girl kept her hands in her pockets and replied calmly, “Yes, I am. Last time I was at a hotel, I saw your mother there with someone else too.”
I frowned. Her mouth was truly venomous.
The boy’s face flushed with humiliation. He grabbed her collar and roared, “Say that again!”
The girl remained composed, the corners of her mouth curving into a cold smile. “If you dare touch me, I promise you’ll regret it.” As she spoke, her peripheral vision caught me. She startled for a split second, then shoved the boy’s arm away and ran toward me. Like a frightened little rabbit, she hid behind me, clutching my sleeve and crying pitifully, “Brother, he bullied me!”
Huh? Since when was I her brother?
Before I could react, the boy strode over, looked me up and down, and demanded loudly, “Who the hell are you?”
“You don’t need to know,” I shot back.
“Fuck!” The boy’s neck bulged with veins, his eyes wide. “What’s your relationship with her?”
“I don’t have anything to do with—”
“He’s my brother!” the girl interrupted, still hiding behind me. “My brother is a taekwondo master. You’d better watch out!”
I knew she was dragging me into her mess. I tried to push her away. “Hey! When did I become your brother? Stop making things up!”
She stuck to me like glue, wrapping her arms tightly around mine. “Brother, he bullied me. Help me beat him up!”
The boy looked ready to explode. Before I could speak, he stepped forward and pointed at my nose. “Fuck you! Where did you come from?”
“Fuck off! What does it matter to you?”
At this point, explanations were pointless. It seemed a fight was inevitable.
The boy was significantly bigger—half a head taller with a much stronger build. If it came to blows, I would likely be at a disadvantage.
He moved closer until his angry red face was inches from mine. “Are you looking for a fight?”
“Try touching me and see what happens.” My heart raced with fear, but I refused to show weakness.
“Damn it! You’re tough, huh? Which school are you from?”
“None of your business. Just try touching me.”
“Try saying that again!”
“My mom’s awesome—go ahead and try!”
The argument dragged on with insults flying back and forth. Surprisingly, despite his size, the boy didn’t throw the first punch. It bought me time to think of a way to de-escalate.
As I searched for an exit, I noticed the girl quietly lifting a heavy potted plant behind him.
“Watch out!” I shouted instinctively.
With a loud thud, the flowerpot smashed against the back of the boy’s head. He screamed and collapsed to the ground.
“Run! What are you waiting for?” the girl yelled.
Before I could fully process what had happened, she grabbed my hand and sprinted away. I glanced back to see the boy clutching his bleeding forehead, rolling on the ground in pain. In a daze, I ran after her.
We sprinted through three streets before I finally felt winded. She, however, looked calm and barely out of breath.
I shook her hand off forcefully and bent over, gasping for air. The girl stopped, turned around, and said sarcastically, “Your stamina isn’t very good. If you actually fought someone, you’d probably end up in the intensive care unit.”
I lifted my head and glared at her, still panting. “You… stop talking nonsense. If it weren’t for you… I wouldn’t have gotten into this mess! I have a grudge against you. You framed me last time, and now this. How are we settling this?”
“Who told you to be my brother?” She tilted her head and rolled her eyes.
“Who is your brother?!”
“You are.” The girl smiled sweetly.
“I’m your uncle!”
“I don’t have an uncle, but I do have a brother.” She was playing the rascal now.
“Stop this nonsense. You’re in big trouble. You framed me twice now. How do you plan to make it up to me?”
The girl tucked her hands into her sweater pockets, lowered her head, and kicked at the ground lightly. “Then what do you want?”
“What do you think?” I tried to sound menacing.
She looked up at me with a bright, innocent smile. “Then let me sleep with you.”