Lastri turned toward Yasmin and gave her a faint smile. She looked exhausted.
"Just a minute, Yas. Your Dad called for me. We’ll continue talking later, okay?"
Yasmin nodded slowly. "Yes, Mom."
Lastri immediately headed to the bedroom, following Anton, who was already waiting for her. Yasmin remained standing where she was. For some reason, she suddenly had a bad feeling.
A little while later, curiosity made Yasmin walk toward her parents’ bedroom. She stopped in front of the door, which wasn’t fully closed, and peeked through the gap.
The sight inside left her speechless.
Mom was picking clothes up off the floor. Several things were scattered around her, while Dad stood there with a hard look on his face.
"Hurry up and pack your things!" Dad yelled. "From now on, you’re sleeping in another room!"
Dad picked up a few more things and threw them onto the floor.
Mom simply lowered her head. She didn’t argue at all. Her hands kept gathering the scattered clothes, even though her eyes were already brimming with tears.
Yasmin couldn’t bear to watch.
She immediately entered the bedroom.
"Mom..."
Mom turned around.
As she tried to lift the fairly heavy pile of clothes, her body suddenly swayed. Yasmin ran over and helped hold some of the clothes.
"Mom, why are you moving to another room?" she asked. Her voice sounded hoarse from holding back tears.
Mom was silent for a moment, then forced a smile.
"It’s nothing, sweetheart."
Yasmin stared at her mother’s face. She knew Mom was clearly lying.
"I’ll carry them, Mom. You can sleep in my room. Then Yasmin won’t have to sleep alone," Yasmin said as she helped her mother.
Lastri only nodded slowly. She didn’t answer, as if she were afraid that if she opened her mouth, her tears would fall.
Yasmin helped carry their clothes to her room. Neither of them said a word along the way.
Once they reached the room, Yasmin immediately opened the wardrobe. She helped Mom put the clothes inside. Her hands were busy folding clothes, but every so often, her gaze turned to Mom’s increasingly weary face.
After a while, Mom finally spoke.
"Yas..."
Yasmin turned around. "Yes, Mom?"
Mom sat on the edge of the bed, straightening the clothes in her lap.
"Don’t tell Farhan anything, okay, sweetheart?"
Yasmin fell silent.
"When he comes home later, just pretend everything’s fine. Don’t let him find out that Dad and I argued earlier."
"Why, Mom?"
Mom let out a soft sigh.
"Farhan will be sad if he finds out. I don’t want him worrying about it."
Yasmin lowered her head. She knew Farhan had always been the main priority in that household.
"Okay, Mom. I promise."
Mom gave her a small smile and stroked Yasmin’s head.
Farhan was Yasmin’s only younger sibling. He was only eight years old, but almost everyone considered him special. Especially Dad.
Farhan always managed to bring the house to life. He was cheerful, made people laugh easily, and was very smart. Just recently, he had won an abacus competition at school. Since he was little, he had also often won drawing and coloring contests.
Yasmin herself was actually just as talented at drawing. She even had plans to study design in college someday.
Yet Dad always treated them differently.
Dad almost never scolded Farhan. Even when Farhan made a minor mistake, Dad would only gently advise him. Yasmin, on the other hand, often had to be careful not to make Dad angry.
Farhan really was Dad’s favorite.
Yasmin still remembered when Farhan had a fever some time ago. Dad had even been willing to stay up all night to look after him. He wiped the sweat from Farhan’s brow, made him warm water, and kept checking to make sure his temperature went down.
Yet when Yasmin or Mom was sick, Dad would usually ask about it briefly before returning to his own business.
Yasmin stared at Mom, who was now arranging her clothes inside the wardrobe. She didn’t understand why Dad’s attention was so different. Maybe it was because Farhan was a boy, so Dad loved him more.
The next morning, Yasmin was already ready to leave for school. She stood by the window, straightening her uniform. From there, she could see Mom busy in the kitchen, helping Auntie Ijah, who had just returned to work.
The house was fairly lively that morning. The sounds of plates and kitchen utensils rang out back and forth.
As Yasmin reached for her bag, she saw Rayya coming down the stairs. The little girl walked toward her with a sweet smile.
But Yasmin’s smile disappeared the moment she saw the bag Rayya was carrying.
That pink bag was her new bag. Dad had bought it for her the week before, right on her birthday. Yasmin had deliberately never used it because she wanted to save it for a competition at school.
"Rayya, that’s my new bag."
Rayya stopped in her tracks.
"That’s the bag Dad bought me for my birthday. I’ve never even used it," she continued.
Rayya stood stiffly near the door. Her hand gripping the bag’s strap was visibly trembling. Her smile vanished, replaced by an anxious expression.
"I’m sorry, Yasmin..." she said softly. "Mom told me to use it. Rayya’s bag was damaged."
Rayya lowered her head. She bit her lower lip as her eyes began to fill with tears.
Yasmin stared at the bag for a few seconds, then looked back at Rayya. From the little girl’s face, Yasmin could tell that Rayya felt guilty. At the same time, Rayya also looked afraid.
The emotions Yasmin had been holding back finally exploded. She stepped toward Rayya and immediately yanked the bag from her shoulder.
"That’s my bag!"
She pulled too hard.
Rayya’s small body lost its balance. She stumbled backward before finally landing on the floor.
"Ow!"
Rayya winced. Both hands pressed against the floor, while her eyes immediately filled with tears. Yasmin froze.
She stared at Rayya, who was still sitting on the floor. For a moment, her anger mixed with shock because she hadn’t expected to pull the bag so hard.
But the pink bag was now in her hands. From the direction of the kitchen, she heard footsteps approaching.
"Rayya!" someone shouted in panic.