Snapping back from my slumber, I found myself engulfed in a tight, suffocating embrace. It was as if Nanny Lin Lan couldn't let me go, her arms wrapped around me with a fierceness that made it hard to breathe. I struggled slightly, gasping for air, trying to find a way to speak.
"Nanny, please! You're squeezing me too hard," I gasped out, "I might lose air completely and drop dead before I even get a chance to say anything."
She immediately loosened her grip, sensing my discomfort, and pulled back, her eyes full of apology. I could see the concern in her gaze, but it was clear how much she had missed me, and it warmed my heart.
"Welcome back home, young miss," she said softly, her voice filled with emotion. "Everyone is having dinner in the family dining hall, so please, hurry and freshen up. I'll go and inform them that you've arrived."
Before she could turn and leave, something sparked in my mind—a sudden burst of energy, of excitement. I couldn't resist the impulse.
"Wait, Nanny!" I called, a little too loudly. "Why not surprise them instead? Let me walk in on them when they don't expect it! I want to see their faces."
Nanny Lan hesitated, looking at me with a bemused smile, unsure of what I meant. But then, seeing the genuine excitement on my face, she nodded and agreed, deciding to keep my return a secret for a little while longer. "As you wish, young miss. I'll keep it a surprise."
I dashed to my room, my heart pounding with anticipation. The room was just as I remembered—everything in place, nothing had changed. The purple walls, the same furniture, the same trinkets scattered around. It felt like time had stood still in here, like I hadn't been away for five years. I quickly freshened up, slipping into a simple but elegant dress, and hurried down the hallway toward the family dining hall.
The excitement bubbled within me. Had everyone changed? How had they been over the past years? I couldn't help but imagine the joy they'd feel upon seeing me. My heart raced with the fantasy of being embraced by my family, of finally feeling like I belonged again. They'll be so happy to see me... But little did I know, the reality was far from the dream I had painted.
When I entered the dining hall, the atmosphere seemed tense, almost rehearsed. The table was filled with chatter, but it wasn't directed at me. They were all engrossed in a conversation about my brother's upcoming birthday, their voices animated, full of excitement. Or so I thought. It was only when I stepped closer that I realized something was terribly wrong. They were pretending not to notice me.
The weight of their indifference hit me like a cold wave. My heart sank. So this is how it is now.
Determined not to let them ignore me, I straightened up, took a deep breath, and announced as loudly as I could, "Hello, family!!!"
For a moment, the room went completely silent. The chatter ceased, and I was met with a wall of cold stares. Their eyes flicked briefly in my direction, but no one spoke. The only sound that broke the silence was a soft, almost imperceptible hush—my mother's signal to the others to stop acknowledging me. I felt as if I had been struck, my breath hitching in my chest.
I didn't move, not at first. I stood there, frozen in disbelief, watching as the family pretended I wasn't even there. I felt invisible. As if the years had erased me from their lives completely.
Finally, with no other option, I made my way toward the table, quietly taking a seat next to my second brother. I couldn't bring myself to look at anyone else. My heart shattered into a million pieces as I tried to maintain my composure. Five years, not days or weeks, but five whole years. How could they have forgotten me so easily?
I understood the neglect from my father and grandparents; they had always treated me as less important, as an afterthought. But from my mother and siblings? The ones who should have cared? That hurt more than anything. I couldn't accept it, no matter how much I tried.
But I couldn't let them see how deeply their coldness affected me. So I sat up straight, hiding the pain behind a mask of indifference. My inner turmoil was carefully tucked away, buried so deep that no one could see the cracks forming in my heart.
The maid came around, offering to serve me, but I waved her off. There was no point in being served, not when it was clear I wasn't considered worthy of such attentions. I can do it myself, I thought, as I reached for the dishes and started serving myself. This was nothing new to me. Since the moment I had arrived at this house, I had learned to fend for myself. The others were always served first, and I was left to manage on my own. It was a pattern that had never changed.
My mother had ensured that I always had Nanny Lin Lan by my side, the only person who had ever truly shown me love and care. The rest of the family had never given me the same, and I had long since stopped expecting anything different from them.
But Nanny Lin Lan was here now, and she was the only one who mattered.