Chapter 2

My Mothre’s Guilt journal Became MY Cancellation Notice Chapter 02

5 min read

My Mothre’s Guilt journal Became MY Cancellation Notice Chapter 02

By the time I left the study, it was already dark.

Tessa was waiting by the stairs. As soon as she saw me, she hurried over.

“Ivy, the gown has already been sent to Miss Celeste’s room.”

I looked toward the end of the hallway.

Celeste’s room was brightly lit, with the stylist and the housekeeper moving in and out with my gown, handling it even more carefully than they had while adjusting it for me.

The Graham family’s engagement invitation was still lying on my desk.

The ivory cardstock looked freshly printed, its edges trimmed in gold foil.

After I returned to my room, I put it in the drawer and locked it away.

Tessa held back for a long while before finally asking in a low voice, “Aren’t you afraid they’ll really keep the gown?”

My hand stilled on the lock.

I was afraid.

But I was even more afraid my mother would write another page.

Since I was little, I had known that the accountability journal was not something I could touch.

The lowest drawer in the study had a keypad lock.

Only my mother knew the code.

But whenever that drawer was opened, I had seen the thick stack of papers inside.

Every page had my name on it.

When I was six, it was the necklace.

When I was eight, it was the bedroom.

Celeste said her room was too drafty and that she coughed at night, so my mother asked whether I could let her stay in the sunnier room for a few months.

I did not dare say no. I only asked, “Then where am I supposed to sleep?”

That night, my mother went to the study again.

She wrote that I had “resented my sister over a bedroom and failed to show compassion for her poor health.”

I heard that line from the doorway and rushed in to apologize.

After that, I moved into the small guest room beside the stairs.

When I was ten, my grandmother hired a language tutor for me.

After Celeste heard about it, she wanted to learn too.

But she was too frail to sit for long. Whenever the tutor taught me a few extra things, she would lie across the desk and cry.

My mother wrote the twenty-ninth page in the accountability journal, saying I had “used my talent to make my sister feel small.”

The tutor was later sent to Celeste’s room instead.

I never finished learning that language.

Over time, I stopped speaking up.

Whenever Celeste wanted something, I checked my mother’s expression first.

If her gaze dropped even slightly, I knew I was supposed to give in.

That was how I lived until I was twenty-four, when the Graham family’s

engagement party was finally getting close.

I thought I was finally about to get out.

An engagement was not the same as an escape.

But back then, when I looked at the invitation Garrett Graham had sent, I still felt a quiet breath of relief.

Maybe the Graham family had its own rules too.

But no matter how many rules they had, at least there would not be another accountability journal.

The next morning, I went downstairs for breakfast.

My mother was leaning back in her dining chair, her face even paler than the night before. Beside her sat a half-finished cup of medicine.

I picked up the cup and said softly, “Mom, this has gone cold. I’ll have the housekeeper bring you a fresh one.”

She did not take it. She only looked at me.

“If the Graham family knew how hardheaded you’ve been all these years, do you think they’d still be so eager to go through with your engagement to Garrett?”

My hand trembled, and the medicine spilled across the back of my fingers.

The heat stung until my skin went numb.

My mother sounded as if she had only said it in passing. Soon, she closed her eyes again.

“Go check on Celeste. She had nightmares last night and kept calling your name.”

I stood there with the cup in my hand for a moment.

In the end, I set it back on the table and went to Celeste’s room.

She was sitting at her vanity while the stylist tried out a hairstyle for her.

My gown hung on the rack.

The white was almost blinding.

When Celeste saw me come in, she quickly told them to put the gown away.

“Ivy, I only wanted to look at it. Mom said some of the good-luck glow from your engagement might rub off on me. I wasn’t really going to wear it.”

As she said that, her fingers were still touching the subtle ivy-vine pattern along the skirt.