When I was thirty years old, I finally overturned the plate of fish at the New Year's Eve dinner table, which symbolized "family and everything will be prosperous".
The mother screamed, the father threw the glass, the sister's eyes widened, and the brother-in-law gloated and held up his mobile phone to record the video.
That meal completely tore off the gorgeous coat of our "model family."
For twenty years, I was the family mediator, my parents' emotional dumpster, my sister's vicarious victim.
Until that day, when the doctor handed me the stomach cancer diagnosis certificate, my family was arguing over who would wash the dishes for the New Year's Eve dinner.
From the moment I lifted the table, I decided to live for myself - even if it meant a long family war.
Reader comments
It is not easy for the author to write, thank you for your hard work. Five stars
It is not easy for the author to write, thank you for your hard work. Five stars