My mother knew that my father and I were allergic to flour, but she would still get up early every day to make us pasta.
My father and I could only take breakfast out and throw it away every day.
When I threw it for the hundredth time, my mother suddenly appeared.
He pointed at my father and me with a face full of disappointment, "I have given you ninety-nine chances. This is the hundredth time I don't want to forgive you. I don't want you anymore."
I cried and apologized to her, but she still took the suitcase and left resolutely.
My father and I went to see her countless times, but she refused coldly.
Later, on the way to school, I was stabbed.
Only then did I realize that my mother was an Internet celebrity. She had established a persona online as a blogger who listened to advice.
My father and I are the white-eyed wolf father and daughter in her drama about chasing his wife at the crematorium.
In order to become famous, my mother created all kinds of illusions to make us dislike her.
Open your eyes again and go back to the day my mother made pasta for the hundredth time.
