Chapter 3 The News

The news anchor continued urging the public to stay away from the hazardous area, emphasizing the need to prevent future tragedies.

Ethan sat up straight, disbelief written across his face. "Wait, they actually shut down Pine Ridge?"

My mother's brow furrowed as something flickered in her mind.

Then Ethan sprang up from the couch, excitement bubbling over as he slapped his thigh. "This is awesome! That camping trip we took is now legendary! I can't wait to tell everyone at school! They'll be so jealous, especially since they'll never get to go now that it's closed forever."

Slowly, my mother's tense expression began to ease.

"Alright, enough acting like a child. Have you two picked out a gift for your grandfather's birthday party?"

My father, who had worn a dark scowl moments before, finally seemed to relax. "This time, you kids better come up with something impressive to say to him."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Olivia always helps me pick the perfect gifts for Grandpa anyway. He'll love whatever we get. You guys don't need to worry."

With that, he turned his attention back to the game on TV.

When my name was mentioned, my mother's expression shifted back to one of disgust, and she retreated to her bedroom.

After sitting on the bed for a moment, she picked up her phone, scrolling through our chat history with apparent indifference.

There were no new texts.

Our last conversation felt like ancient history now, those few brief exchanges strangely foreign.

An unnameable emotion washed over her, and she held down the voice message button, her voice dripping with frustration as she spoke for several tense seconds.

"Olivia, get back here by tomorrow, and I'll consider letting you move back in with us. If you keep hiding, I swear I'll cut you off completely!"

With that, she tossed her phone aside and lay back down, drifting off to sleep.

I sat there, wanting to cry but finding myself unable to produce a single tear.

Eight months ago, I graduated from art school, but my parents missed the ceremony they'd promised to attend because Violet had a gallery opening for her work.

Afterward, when I quietly voiced my disappointment, they used my age as an excuse to kick me out.

Fearing my grandfather would find out and scold my mother, I kept quiet about it.

I didn't even dare use my grandfather's connections to help me find a gallery job.

My mother knew that I had spent my whole life longing for her and my father's approval.

She was my weakness.

As long as she threatened to disown me, I would rush back to apologize, desperate to make things right.

But now, she no longer held that power over me because I had been dead for three months.

When my mother woke up, evening had already fallen.

Checking her phone, she found only a message from her close friend.

It was from Aunt Patricia.

[Hey, Sarah. I remember you all just went to Pine Ridge recently. Hope everything's okay.]

[How's Olivia? I tried calling her, but she's not picking up.]

Seeing Aunt Patricia's message made me feel touched.

Over the years, besides my grandfather, Aunt Patricia had been one of the few people who genuinely cared about me.

I usually only shared good news with my grandfather, and during tough times, it was only Aunt Patricia who would squeeze my shoulder and reassure me, "Your mother just needs time. She loves you."

I had always believed that.

Until I tried calling her before I died, and she hung up on me three times.

That was when I realized what a 'comforting lie' truly was.

Maybe my unwillingness to let go had kept me tethered near my mother even after death.

I didn't want this.

I didn't want to witness their happy family life from the afterlife.

My mother pinched the bridge of her nose, typing a reply.

[Who knows where she's disappeared to? Dad's birthday party is coming up, and you have to come with me.]

Aunt Patricia had a close relationship with our family.

She immediately agreed, adding that she had brought me a custom leather portfolio by Marcus Chen, which I had long wanted.

My mother paused mid-text.

She realized that the portfolio I had asked Aunt Patricia to reserve was meant as a gift for her.

Earlier this year, I had subtly asked what she wanted for Mother's Day, and she casually showed me a video of it while scrolling through social media.

I had made a mental note of it right then.