Ever since she stepped into the Prescott Family's threshold, those siblings had never once shown her a kind face.
She was Lynn Shaw's daughter brought in through remarriage, awkwardly positioned and without her biological father's support.
In this family that placed importance on pedigree, she was destined to be an outsider.
Especially Zeke Prescott, ever since she first met him at six years old, he had targeted her in every way.
As a child, Zeke Prescott loved to torment her, secretly calling her "bastard" behind her back.
Once during a family banquet, he even deliberately pushed her into the swimming pool, making her a public spectacle in her dress.
She never dared to tell Lynn Shaw.
She knew life for her mother in the Prescott Family wasn't easy.
Mrs. Prescott looked down on her background, not being of noble descent, always mocking her with cold sarcasm.
Some things, if spoken, wouldn't receive fairness.
Instead, it would make things harder for her mother.
Once, when she had just started middle school, it suddenly began to rain heavily after school one day.
She didn't have an umbrella, so she could only hold her backpack and wait on the steps until the rain stopped.
Zeke Prescott and his friends deliberately passed by, shoving her, yelling "Get lost, wild girl."
Unable to stand firm, she fell off the steps.
Rain mixed with mudwater, she was soaked, her knees scraped.
She shrank in a corner, rain hitting her face, indistinguishable from tears.
As she was about to break down, a tall silhouette suddenly appeared.
It was Curtis Prescott, a high schooler.
He fiercely scolded those people, then carried her to the school clinic.
The rain fell finely, and she lay on his warm back, as he held an umbrella, walking and asking softly, "Has Zeke Prescott been bullying you often?"
Fearing exposure and putting Lynn Shaw in a difficult position, she swallowed the words at the edge of her lips.
She feared that once the matter was exposed, her mother would be caught in the middle, in a difficult position.
Curtis Prescott seemed to see through her thoughts.
His steps didn't pause, but he sighed lightly, "If he bullies you again later, don't endure it, come find me. I'll stand up for you."
From that day on, she knew that in this cold family, there was at least one person willing to shelter her.
"I'm in the second-year class one, you should know how to find it."
Five years, a full five years.
"Vivian, Vivian!"
Lynn Shaw's voice suddenly rang in her ear.
Vivian Sinclair finally snapped out of it, "Huh?"
"I'll go upstairs first, have Mrs. Campbell help tidy the room for you, you can go up later."
As Lynn Shaw spoke, she adjusted the bag in her hand.
"Okay."
Vivian Sinclair answered softly.
Lynn Shaw stood up and entered the nearby elevator.
Vivian Sinclair looked around and noticed only she and Curtis Prescott were left in the spacious living room.
The crystal chandelier cast soft light, illuminating the room's luxurious décor.
"Are you leaving again this time?"
Curtis Prescott finally broke the silence.
"I haven't decided yet."
Vivian Sinclair gazed at the darkening sky outside, countless images flashing in her mind.
The snow on the streets of New York, the solitary lamp in the shared apartment, the silhouette at the airport boarding gate…
But simultaneously, Torval's spring cherry blossoms, the breakfast stall at the old alley corner, and the boy who once held her hand to school, quietly resurfaced in her heart.
Torval held too many things she couldn't let go of.
At the same time, it had many reasons that made her choose to flee.
She once thought leaving was liberation, but standing here now, she realized.
Her roots were long planted into this land.
Even if she had been hurt, ignored, the connection hadn't been severed.
Curtis Prescott lowered his head, scrolling through his phone.
"How about not leaving? A girl like you out there, always makes people uneasy."
Vivian Sinclair bit her lip, as if something was blocking her heart, sour, unable to utter a word.
She didn't want him to see her vulnerability.
For these five years, she hadn't returned even for New Year's.
Every Spring Festival, she'd send a text to Mrs. Prescott, attaching few polite blessings.
Then she'd nest alone in a foreign land's little room, listening to firecrackers outside the window, eating cold instant meals.
It's not that she didn't want to come back, but she was afraid to.
Afraid to face that cold face, afraid to hear those harsh remarks, afraid of once again becoming an unnecessary presence in this family.
The Prescott Family had many rules, emphasizing distinctions between born and bred.
And she, from the day her mother married in, was destined to be an "outsider."
Though she studied hard, never made trouble, she couldn't change how others looked at her.
In the Prescott Family, she always felt like an outsider.
Except for Curtis Prescott, who'd occasionally talk to her and show some concern.
Others either treated her coldly or acted like she didn't exist.
She remembered once having a fever over thirty-nine degrees, lying in bed muddle-headed, wanting help, yet only seeing servants hesitant to report in.
While Lynn Shaw was busy preparing tutoring materials for Francis Prescott's two children, without even glancing at her.
In the end, it was Curtis Prescott who ran into her, without a word, carried her to the hospital.
The rain was heavy that night, his back cold, but she felt safer than ever before.
Lynn Shaw, to please Mrs. Prescott, treated Francis Prescott's two children far better than she treated her.
She remembered Lynn Shaw taking them to piano lessons on weekends, ordering expensive birthday cakes, accompanying them to various family gatherings.
And herself?
Only a perfunctory "study well" at the start of each academic year, even pocket money had to be secretly given by Curtis Prescott.
She's asked herself countless times: why stay?
But every time she wanted to leave for good, images of that young boy leading her through the courtyard would flash in her mind.
Seeing her silent, Curtis Prescott suddenly stood up.
"You've been on a plane all day, must be tired, go rest early."
He glanced at her, then turned towards the stairs.
"Okay."
Vivian Sinclair nodded.
She deliberately waited for a moment, not until Curtis Prescott had completely left the living room, did she slowly head upstairs.
She didn't want him to think she still relied on him like she did as a child.
The room was just as it was, unchanged.
The cream-colored curtains still hung, the small lamp on the desk still sat in its original place, and the bedside table even held the novel she hadn't finished reading five years ago.
It seemed someone had always been waiting here for her return.
That manga, opened casually before she went abroad, unfinished, forced to interrupt.
Now coming back, it still lay quietly in place.
Lynn Shaw was sitting on the sofa waiting for her.
She wore a beige knitted cardigan, hands folded on her knees.
The living room lights were soft.
Neither TV nor music played, she just sat quietly.
On the coffee table lay a cup of cooled tea, tea leaves settled at the bottom.
"Mom."
Vivian Sinclair called softly.
"Have things been okay for you outside these years?"
Too busy during the day, no chance for a proper chat.
Lynn Shaw stood up, keeping her tone gentle.
"Pretty good. I got my lawyer's certificate, joined a decent law firm abroad, the income is also favorable."