I Refuse to Be a Filial Daughter at My Own Expense

I helped my younger brother move back to the countryside. The next day, our old family home caught fire. Everyone was safe except my daughter, who was trapped inside. By the time I rushed into the flames, my daughter was already dead, and I never made it back out either. My parents helped my brother cover up the real reason my daughter and I died, telling everyone it was an accident. Not long after our deaths, the apartment I owned in a school district was transferred into my brother’s name. It turned out that the nephew I’d raised for six years was about to start elementary school. All these years, in the name of the so-called duty of filial piety expected of a daughter, I’d suffered terribly, been forced into divorce, and ultimately met a tragic end alongside my daughter. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment my brother asked me to help him move back to our hometown. I pulled out my phone. “It’s just a move. Your big sister will call a moving company right away.”