The Invisible Daughter Chose Herself Chapter 1

Summer break. My parents, both high school teachers with far too much free time on their hands, struck gold and snagged discounted tickets to London.

They counted down the days on their fingers, systematically going around the circle—my older sister was working, my younger brother had sports camp—deliberately ignoring me, who had just finished high school exams and was idling around the house with nothing to do.

And just like that, they were gone for seven days.

Seven days later, when they rolled back through the front door looking polished and glowing, the three of us were hunched over the kitchen island, sharing a pot of cheap instant ramen.

Mom handed a life-sized Spider-Man collectible statue to my brother.

"Todd, sweetie, I know how much you’ve loved superheroes since you were little. Your dad and I went to seven different stores just to find this in stock."

Dad reached into his shopping bag, pulling out two sleek boxes for my sister.

"A Burberry silk scarf and Jo Malone perfume, Chloe. I hope you can put these to good use when you need to make an impression."

Chloe and Todd squealed with joy, clutching their gifts like sacred treasures.

When it came to my turn, Mom fished two identical, squashed airplane meal boxes out of her canvas tote and tossed them casually onto the floor.

"Here’s yours. Your dad and I couldn’t even bear to eat them on the flight."

The flattened bread popped out of its flimsy wrapper with a dull thud, sticking firmly to the linoleum.

I said nothing. I just turned on my heel and walked back to my bedroom.

Luckily, just one second before the college application portal locked forever, I had secretly changed my top choice to a university a thousand miles away.

…

* * *

The moment my bedroom door clicked shut, the loud chatter outside instantly fell dead silent.

But it lasted for only a breath. A second later, the house erupted into laughter again.

My brother gushed repeatedly about how Mom and Dad’s gift was literally the coolest thing he’d ever owned. Chloe couldn’t wait to tear open the fancy packaging, spraying perfume into the air and spinning beneath the scented mist.

Only I was curled up in the cramped study, feeling like a thief peeking at someone else’s happiness through a keyhole.

Mom’s voice drifted through the thin wooden panel.

"Unbelievable! We leave the house for a week, and Josie lets you two eat instant noodles? I wasted my time teaching her how to cook!"

"Hold on, I’ll make you a real dinner right now."

The kitchen door creaked open, and within moments, the stove was roaring.

A single wall separated us, but it couldn't block the deafening rumble of the exhaust fan, nor could it filter out the thick smell of grease wafting through the cracks.

What my mother called "teaching" was really her forcing me into the kitchen at six years old under the guise of "building character."

At an age when my peers couldn't even hold a kitchen knife safely, I had already learned how to slice potatoes, braise short ribs, and simmer complex broths.

Ever since I mastered cooking, whenever the family gathered, I was the one permanently trapped in the kitchen.

Chloe would lounge on the sofa watching TV, while Todd glued his eyes to his phone, playing games. By the time I carried the last dish to the table, the food had already gone lukewarm, and the best cuts of meat had been picked clean from the platters.

They complained that I was too slow, that my seasoning was too bland, that I didn't know how to control portions for soup or pasta.

Ten years of this made me an extraordinary cook.

But no one ever asked me if I actually wanted to learn.

Outside, the laughter continued. Mom whipped up a full table of food in record time and called everyone to eat.

Chloe hesitated. "Josie is still in her room..."

Dad cut her off sharply. "Why bother with her? If she doesn't come out, she isn't hungry. Todd is growing—saving that extra portion means more fuel for him."

As for the instant ramen from earlier, I hadn't even been allowed to eat the noodles. If I hadn't snuck two hasty sips of the boiling broth right after pouring the hot water while they complained it was too hot, I wouldn't have tasted a thing.

Smelling the savory food outside, my stomach growled painfully.

Out of the four people sitting around that dinner table, not a single one came to check if I was hungry or if I wanted a bite.

I let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.

I had long accepted the fact that I was an invisible ghost in this house. Why did I still harbor these pathetic, foolish fantasies?

I pulled out my phone, masochistically tapping into the college portal to view my secretly altered choice.

"University of Michigan, Department of Mechanical Engineering."

When my test scores had first come back, my parents insisted I choose a pre-med track, claiming under the guise of wisdom that having a doctor in the family would save everyone a lot of hassle down the road.

Yet Chloe’s graphic design major was her passion, and Todd’s athletic training was his prized talent.

When it came to me, the only consideration was "saving them hassle."

They didn't care about what I loved; they only cared about what utility I could bring to this family.

If I hadn't seen my own birth certificate with my own eyes, I would have genuinely doubted whether I was adopted.

So in the final minute before the submission portal locked, a quiet defiance took hold of me, and I selected the field I actually cared about: mechanical engineering.

"Buzz. Buzz."

My phone vibrated violently under my pillow. I pulled out the beat-up, hand-me-down flip phone and clicked open the message.

"Congratulations! You have been accepted to your top-choice program: University of Michigan."

Tracing the small screen with my thumb, a fierce, blooming warmth flared in my chest.

For the very first time in my life, I had made a choice for myself.

It was the first time, but it would certainly not be the last.

BANG!

The front door of my room was kicked open, the brass latch snapping off and flying across the room.

Startled, I sat up abruptly on the bed, staring into my father's thunderous face.

He glared down at me, his eyes dark with fury.

"Josie! Your mother and I just walk through the door and you give us attitude? Now you lock yourself in here to throw a hunger strike? What is the meaning of this? Are you trying to threaten us?"