All I Could See Was Frost

Five years after my parents' divorce, I met my mother at school. She had just finished a parent-teacher meeting for her stepdaughter, who was the top student in the grade, and was beaming with joy. The moment she saw me, her expression darkened. "Do you always come to school dressed like this? This is how your father is raising you?" She handed me a business card and said in a condescending tone, "Take this. Tell your father that I'll enroll you in the international program right away if he's willing to admit his mistake. It's better than staying in the regular program and struggling." I did not take it and took a few steps back. "No thanks, Ms. Stroll." She frowned, her eyes filled with disgust. "You're utterly hopeless, just like your father. Don't ever tell anyone you're my son." I clenched the paper in my hand and calmly watched her leave. She had no idea it was not a report card. It was my withdrawal application from school after my father's death, because I had no one else to pay my tuition for me. Chapter 1 I folded the paper back and went to the administration office. My teacher, Ms. Fraser, took it and flipped through the transcript that was tucked at the back. She paused for two seconds. "Jordan Grey, have you really made up your mind? It's a pity that you're dropping out with such good grades. You've always been a top student." I held my schoolbag strap and only shook my head gently. There were other teachers in the administration office. One of them, who had just returned from outside, casually mentioned, "Ms. Ginny Stroll came for the parent-teacher meeting today. After that, she gave the school an additional scholarship, saying it's specifically for students in the top ten of the grade and those who excel in competitions. The principal praised her earlier." Another teacher chimed in with a smile. "She cares about Olivia. I heard Ms. Stroll had even planned Olivia's overseas study after high school in advance. Olivia's diligent, always ranking first in the grade. The school welcomes such parents." I stood by the table, saying nothing. A couple of students came to hand in their materials, and they could not help looking in my direction. Someone looked at the withdrawal application in my hand and then at my worn-out school uniform before lamenting quietly, "They're both her kids, yet their fate is so different. People like Ms. Stroll have a good reputation. She not only donated money to the school but also attended the parent-teacher meeting. She probably wouldn't mistreat her own son in private either." I glanced up at that person. "Whether she treats the child poorly is not determined by what she says but by what she has done in the past five years." That person was taken aback. The office fell silent for a moment. Ms. Fraser looked at me, as if she wanted to ask something, but she ultimately did not. She only placed the withdrawal application on the corner of the desk. I turned around and walked out. The school building corridor was long. The light streamed in from the windows, casting patches of light and shadow on the floor tiles. I walked past the wall of honor and saw the photo in the center. My mother, Ginny Stroll, stood to one side, while Olivia Russell stood in the middle holding a trophy. Both were smiling. The photo was well taken. They looked respectable and radiant like a real pair of mother and daughter. Who would associate them with me? After school, I went to work at the convenience store as usual. After the evening rush hour, I stood behind the cash register again, working until almost 10:00 pm. My store manager poured me a cup of hot water and placed it beside me. "Is the school pressing for tuition again?" I replied in acknowledgment softly. The manager sighed. "When your dad was alive, his biggest fear was that your schooling would be disrupted. Every time he got paid, the first thing he asked wasn't whether he had enough for himself, but when your tuition bill would arrive. He always told me everything else can be worked through, but nothing could affect your education." Chapter 2 The scanner in my hand paused for a moment. My gaze fell on the shelves and remained there for a long time without moving. After my father left, the first thing I lost was not my living expenses; it was the feeling of someone caring whether I went to school. No matter how late I came home, he would always ask if I had finished my homework and how I did in my exams. When he was at his worst, with needles inserted into his hand, he was still thinking about my monthly exams and college entrance exams. Now, no one asked me those questions anymore. I did not even have anyone to remind me to bring the admission slip anymore. After getting off work, I bought a small bouquet of white flowers from the florist on the street corner and a discounted cake from the cake shop that was about to close for the day before taking the last bus to the cemetery. The wind was not strong tonight, and the mountain road was quiet. I placed the flowers and cake in front of the grave, squatted down, and looked at my father's portrait. "The school is chasing me for tuition again today. I submitted my withdrawal application." I paused and then recounted what had happened during the day. "I saw Ms. Stroll at school today. She had just finished Olivia's parent-teacher conference, and she was all smiles. The first thing she asked me was if I usually dressed like this to school. Then she handed me her business card, saying she would immediately send me to the international program if you admitted to your mistake." I could not help but smile slightly. The smile was so faint that I could barely feel it myself. "She still doesn't know you're dead." I unboxed the cake, cut a small piece with a fork, and placed it on the offering plate. "Dad, I wanted to hold on a little longer, but I really can't. Don't be mad at me." I stared at the tombstone, my throat tightening. “I know you're most afraid that I'll drop out of school, but I've done everything I could." The wind blew down from the mountain, rustling the grass in front of the grave. I sat by the grave for a long time before my phone screen lit up. It was a message from my homeroom teacher, Ms. Darth: [Come to school tomorrow to pick up your personal belongings.] … The next day, I sensed something was off as soon as I entered the school gate. Someone saw me and immediately lowered their head to talk to the person next to them. Someone was holding up a phone, pointing it at me. When I looked up, they quickly lowered it. I walked toward the classroom. As I passed the stairwell, two boys who had been talking immediately lowered their voices when they saw me, but their eyes still kept glancing at my face. I walked to my seat and put down my backpack, but I then noticed several words written on my desk in chalk. [Ungrateful!] [Can't stand seeing others do well.] [Jealous of his stepsister!] Each word was written heavily, as if afraid no one would see it. I stood there for a few seconds, took out a tissue from my backpack, dampened it, and wiped it off little by little. My deskmate moved aside, as if afraid of getting involved. Just then, Ms. Darth stood at the door and called out to me, "Jordan, come to the office." I zipped up my backpack and followed her out. When the office door opened, I immediately saw my mother. She stood by the window, her face even grimmer than yesterday. Mr. Russell sat in a chair, frowning and looking like he was suppressing his anger. Olivia stood beside him with her head down and looking aggrieved. Daisy handed me her phone. "Take a look for yourself." An anonymous post suddenly appeared on the school forum last night. The title was direct, and the content was even more so. Chapter 3 The post said that Olivia was not my mother's biological child, but she had gained all the resources by relying on my mother's financial support. It was also implied that my mother had abandoned her ex-husband and her own biological son, becoming a good mother to someone else's daughter instead. The post was quickly deleted, but screenshots had already spread everywhere. My mother stared at me and asked immediately, "Did you post it?" I pushed the phone back. "No." Mr. Russell immediately chimed in, his tone filled with suppressed dissatisfaction, "Jordan, I know you hold a grudge, but Olivia has done nothing wrong. Why must you involve her in your parents' affairs?" I remained silent. There were two teachers in the office. They could not help but side with them when they heard this. "Yeah, they should discuss it privately; don't post it on the forum so that the whole school knows about it." I listened and found it particularly ridiculous. I did not do anything, but everyone had already assumed that I was the prime suspect—all because my mother was rich and had status, while I was just an ordinary student on the verge of dropping out of school. Thus, pinning the blame on me first would not be wrong whether the matter was true. I looked up and asked my mother, "What good will it do for me to post this? I'm already planning to drop out today. Why would I wanna watch the three of you play happy family?" The moment the words 'drop out' were uttered, everyone in the office froze. Ms. Darth frowned. "The withdrawal paperwork hasn't been approved yet." I did not answer, only tightening my grip on my backpack strap. My mother seemed to zero in on the key point, staring at me as her voice suddenly turned cold. "So you did it on purpose? Are you deliberately using dropping out as an act to soften my heart? Your dad used to love pulling this kind of guilt trip, and now you've learned to do it too." I abruptly looked up at her. Those words pierced my heart like a needle. The emotions I had held back for the entire day finally broke down. "If my dad were really as good at acting as you say, he wouldn't have been so badly deceived by you back then." The office fell silent immediately. Ms. Darth's expression changed. She opened her mouth to try to comfort me, but my mother raised her hand to interrupt her. My mother's expression darkened further as she stared at my face. She turned to the teachers in the office and said, "Could you please leave for a moment? This is a family matter." Ms. Darth hesitated for a moment, but still left with the others. The moment the door closed, only the four of us remained in the room. My mother took a step closer to me, her voice painstakingly low. "Jordan, how long are you going to keep this up?" I laughed when I heard that. "What did I do? Did I post that online, or did I beg you to acknowledge me yesterday? I came here quietly to process my withdrawal today, yet you all cornered me in the office this morning, determined to smear me." My mother frowned. "If you hadn't been stirring things up behind the scenes, Olivia wouldn't have suddenly found out about all that." I looked up at her, asking, word by word, "So you think the truth itself isn't important, and what matters is who exposed it?" My mother paused. Seeing the tension rising, Mr. Russell immediately chimed in, "Jordan, you can take your anger out on me, but Olivia really doesn't know anything. She's always considered your mother family and never intended to hurt you." Chapter 4 I stared at Mr. Russell. The way he insisted on Olivia's innocence was the same as five years ago. Back then, he had stood behind the crowd, sounding helpless as he told everyone to calm down and not scare her. My mother immediately turned around to protect him and Olivia, not even giving my dad or me a single glance. I curled my lips into a faint smile. "Aren't you best at using Olivia's 'innocence' as an excuse? It was like this five years ago, and it's still the same now." My mother hated it most when others brought up what happened five years ago. I looked at her and suddenly remembered how I would wait by the window for her to come home many years ago. At that time, I was still young, and my dad always spoke up for her. He said that my mother's company was having difficulties recently, and it would be fine once she got through this period. One day, my mother came home, looking very pale. After sitting at the table in silence for a long time, she told my dad that the company's capital chain broke, and she had debts. She was afraid it would drag us down, so she wanted to file for divorce first. That day, my dad's face turned pale, but he did not blame her. He just asked, "Is it getting hard to keep going?" My mother nodded. After that, my dad took out all the money he had saved after marriage and gave it to her, including bank cards and savings passbooks. He gave her all of them and even took on many jobs—sewing clothes during the day and working in the kitchen of a diner at night, hoping to help her get through this difficult time together. At that time, the thing I looked forward to most every day was waiting by the window after school. I waited for her to open the door and pick us up. My dad always asked me to wait a little longer and said that my mother would come when she was done with work. I believed him for a long time. Later, my mother said again that the house was going to be used to pay off debts, and we had to move out. My dad still believed her. He took me to the cheapest rental house in the old town, continued to work hard to earn money, and continued to wait for her. Not long after, the TV, phones, and mall screens were all broadcasting news of my mother's remarriage. The wedding venue was huge, the lights were bright, and there were many people. Wearing a suit, Mr. Russell stood beside her, while Olivia stood in the middle of them, like a child who had everyone's approval. The host said they looked like the perfect family of three. My dad held his phone, his hands shaking. He stared at it for a long time before finally coming to his senses and taking me to the wedding venue by cab. However, we could not even get in the door. Security guards blocked the way, and everyone around was watching. My dad explained repeatedly that he just wanted to see my mother and ask her some questions. However, no one would let us through. Later, my mother saw us through the crowd. I thought she would come over, but the next second, Mr. Russell grabbed Olivia, saying she was frightened and that my mother should not allow us to continue causing a scene. She immediately had security drag us out. "Don't let them make a scene." Those were her last words. When my dad and I were pushed out of the hotel, it was raining outside. My dad was soaked to the core but refused to leave; he only stared at the lights inside. Later, I chased after my mother, refusing to let go. I grabbed her clothes and asked her why. She got annoyed and simply shook me off. I tumbled down the steps and hit my ears on the handrail. The pain was so intense that I could not hear anything. My dad carried me to several hospitals. The doctors were very clear—early treatment meant there was still hope. However, we did not get it treated in time. Chapter 5 At that thought, I looked up at my mother. "Aren't you the best at protecting Mr. Russell and Olivia? How come you can't even handle hearing the truth anymore?" My mother turned grim, a flicker of discomfort crossing her eyes. When she spoke, she still chose to shift the blame onto my dad. "What happened back then was because your dad couldn't let it go. He refused to accept the reality and made the situation worse. If he hadn't kept pressing on, everyone could have just lived in peace.” I stared at her, feeling a surge of anger. "Peace? Do you know why my hearing is damaged?" My mother froze. This was the second time today that she truly noticed the hearing aid on my ears. When we met yesterday, she was only focused on criticizing my shabby clothes and did not notice anything new. I turned around to make my ears clearer for her to see. "The day you kicked us out, I fell down the stairs and damaged my hearing. You don't remember, of course. You were busy with your wedding and protecting Mr. Russell and Olivia. How could you have any time to worry about whether I was injured?" My mother's mouth parted, as if she wanted to retort. I did not give her a chance to speak. I continued, "Over the years, Dad and I have tried to contact you. We've called, texted, begged, and waited. But every time, our phone call was either hung up on or Mr. Russell answered, telling us you were busy and that we should be more understanding. "Later, Dad's health deteriorated, and he required long-term treatment. You assumed he was faking it before checking the medical records carefully. Finally, you threw a bank card at me, saying there was money in it and told me to disappear." My hands clenched so tightly that they were numb by the time I finished speaking. I believed her that day; I thought even the most ruthless person would not joke about someone's life. I ran all the way back to the hospital with that card, even ignoring that I had lost a shoe. My mind was filled with the thought that my dad could be saved. However, the payment counter staff swiped the card three times before looking up and telling me, "There's no money in it." I stood in the hospital lobby, completely stunned. I did not know who to blame—the bank, myself, or my mother who had not looked back at all. Looking at my mother at this moment, my voice grew colder. "You're telling me this is what you call living in peace? Have you ever, even for a moment, wanted Dad and me to live?" The office was eerily quiet. My mother looked at me, her expression finally changing. After a long silence, the first thing she said was, "There's no way I gave you an empty card." I almost laughed out loud. Even now, her first reaction was still to try and exonerate herself. "So you think Dad and I conspired to lie to you?" "There must be another reason behind this," she said. "Yeah, there's another reason." I stared at her. "But whatever the reason, Dad is the only one who died." My mother's expression changed instantly. "What did you say?" I looked at her and uttered slowly, "Dad is dead. He died in the hospital three months ago. Even on his deathbed, he was still thinking about my tuition fees and SATs." My mother stood there, as if her voice was sucked right out of her. Chapter 6 "Impossible." My mother stared at me, her eyes narrowing inch by inch. "Your dad is the best at pretending to be pitiful. How could he—" I finished her sentence for her, "How could he really die? In your eyes, is he always putting on an act? " Mr. Russell's expression had changed as well. He immediately stood up to smooth things over. "Jordan, calm down first. Maybe you're just in a very bad mood, so you spoke a little too harshly. If your dad is really having a hard time now, we can help; there's no need to make a scene." I did not even look at him. At this point, he was still hinting that my dad was not dead and was just using it as an opportunity to pester them. I took out the withdrawal application from my backpack and spread it out on the table. I had folded the paper so many times that the corners were frayed, but the words on it were still very clear. [Due to the death of my guardian, I'm unable to continue bearing the school expenses. I'm applying for withdrawal from school.] My mother looked down to read them, and her pupils immediately constricted. I stared at her, my voice strangely calm. "After Dad died, I handled his funeral all by myself. What were you doing at the time? You were paving the way for Olivia, accompanying Mr. Russell, and being annoyed that Dad and I were in your way." My eyes finally welled up at this point, but I still held back my tears. "He was still finding excuses for you before he died. He said maybe you were really busy or maybe Mr. Russell blocked the news from reaching you. Even at the very end of his life, he still said he would take me to find you and ask about that card once he recovered, but he never made it." My mother gulped, her breathing becoming visibly erratic. The next second, she said in a deep voice, "I want to see your dad." I looked at her and suddenly felt that she was being utterly ridiculous. Even after all this, she still did not believe it. She would rather believe my dad was hiding and putting on an act than admit that she had truly driven him to death. I put away the withdrawal application and turned to leave. "Fine. Didn't you want to see him?" I did not say another word the whole way and went straight out of the school gate. My mother immediately chased after me, saying it was impossible and that she had to ask him face-to-face. Mr. Russell's face was pale, but he could only follow behind with Olivia in tow. We took a bus before walking into the old alleyways of the old town. Mr. Russell was wearing leather shoes and walked slowly while frowning all the way. Olivia, who had never been to a place like this before, followed silently, her head bowed even lower. Finally, I stopped in front of a cramped apartment block. The stairwell was narrow and dark, the paint was peeling, and the air was damp and musty. I took out my key and opened the door. The door creaked open, revealing the unit—an old table, a bed, a lamp with a yellowish glow. In the corner was a neatly arranged memorial table. On it were flowers and candles, with a memorial portrait of my dad in the center. My mother stood in the doorway. She froze the moment her gaze fell upon the portrait, and the color drained from her face, bit by bit. Only at this moment did she truly see with her own eyes that my dad was really dead.