I listened quietly to the end. Every word felt like a tiny needle pricking at my already numb heart.

So, in all of their eyes, this was just an innocent, harmless joke.

My dignity, my humiliation, my pain—none of it mattered.

"Mrs. Miller," I interrupted her, "I’ve withdrawn from school."

The line went dead silent, to the point where I could hear the faint buzz of the current.

A full five seconds passed before Mrs. Miller’s voice returned, noticeably shocked and shrill: "What? You... what did you say? Withdrawn? Nina, don't joke with me, this isn't funny at all."

"I’m not joking. The withdrawal paperwork is complete, and I’m on the train heading home." I stated the facts, one word at a time, with absolute clarity.

"Why!" Mrs. Miller’s voice completely changed pitch, sharp and accusatory. "Just because Seth cut a little of your hair? Over such a trivial thing? Nina, aren't you being too willful? Do you know how hard it was for your parents to send you to university? Do you know that you and Seth grew up together, and our two families..."

"Mrs. Miller," I interrupted her again. "I’m a bit tired and want to rest. I’ll explain everything to my parents once I’m home."

"Hey! Nina! Don't hang up! You explain yourself properly!"

I didn't listen to her hysterical voice any longer and hit the hang-up button.

The train carriage returned to silence. I looked out the window as the sky gradually darkened. In the distance, the city lights flickered on like scattered jewels—dazzling yet remote.

There was no place for me there anymore. And that was fine. A new beginning was always better than struggling in the mire. As for how Seth and his family would face the storm, that was no longer my problem to worry about.

05

Walking out of the train station, the air of my hometown hit me—uniquely filled with the scent of dampness and dust.

I dragged my suitcase, opting not to take a taxi, but walking step by step toward home. The familiar streets, the familiar shops, the familiar cacophony of voices—everything was exactly as it had been when I left, yet my state of mind had turned upside down.

In the distance, I saw the old apartment building that was my home. The lights were on in the third-floor window; that was our kitchen.

My footsteps faltered. I took a deep breath before continuing onward.

I could imagine what kind of storm was waiting for me.

Sure enough, as I unlocked the door and walked in with my suitcase, the atmosphere in the living room, which had been relatively relaxed, instantly solidified.

My father was sitting on the sofa watching the news, and my mother had just walked out of the kitchen with a plate of fruit.

Seeing me, and then the massive suitcase behind me, the smile on my mother’s face froze. The fruit plate in her hands clattered to the ground, apples and oranges rolling everywhere.

"Nina? You... why are you back? Shouldn't you be at school?" My mother's voice was trembling.

My father also bolted up from the sofa, his sharp gaze sweeping over me before finally landing on my uneven, short hair. His expression darkened instantly, looking as though it could drip ink.

"What happened to your hair? And what is this suitcase about?" he demanded sharply.

I didn't answer immediately. Instead, I bent down and silently picked up the fruit that had rolled across the floor one by one, put them back on the plate, and set it on the coffee table.

After finishing all of this, I straightened up and looked at them.

"I’ve withdrawn from school." These four simple words exploded in the small living room like a thunderclap.

"What did you say?!" My mother rushed over, grabbing my arm, her eyes wide and bloodshot. "Say it again! You withdrew? Why! It’s a perfectly good university, why would you just quit?"

"Yeah! Why!" My father’s roar followed immediately. He paced back and forth in the living room, pointing at my nose and cursing, "We sacrificed so much to send you there, and this is how you trample on your own future? Nina, have you lost your mind? A month! You’ve only been there for a little over a month, and you come crawling back!"

I knew they would react this way. Before they had even spoken, Mrs. Miller must have called. Her version of the story would certainly paint me as unreasonable, willful, and throwing a tantrum over a little joke.

"Is this because of Seth? His mother called to say that you two had some unpleasantness at school and that you came running back the moment you got angry," my mother pressed, her tone carrying a hint of hope, seemingly wishing this was just a farce that could be easily resolved. "Even married couples have their squabbles, you two grew up together, what couldn't be talked through? To run home over such a small matter and even threaten to withdraw—how do you expect the neighbors to view our family? How do you expect the Miller family to see you?"

The same words again. Always "a small matter." My heart felt as if it had been soaked in ice water, the last remnants of warmth disappearing.

I didn't argue, nor did I cry or scream. I simply lifted my head, meeting my parents’ angry and bewildered gazes, and with a near-cold calmness, pointed at my own hair.

"Dad, Mom, take a good look at my hair."

They froze, their gazes subconsciously focusing on my ugly hairstyle.

"I didn't cut this myself, and it wasn't done at a salon," I said, enunciating every word. "It was at the school’s welcome gala, in front of thousands of teachers and students. Seth, in order to please a girl named Sonia, personally pinned me down and let her use scissors to cut it like this—snip by snip."

I made sure to say "personally pinned me down" and "snip by snip" very slowly and clearly.

"At that time, the whole crowd was laughing, egging them on. And he, the Seth you watched grow up, the one you thought was honest and reliable, was standing right behind me, laughing louder than anyone else."

The living room fell into a deathly silence. My father stopped pacing, and my mother’s hand on my arm loosened.

The anger on their faces slowly faded, replaced by shock and disbelief.

"He... how could he do such a thing?" my mother muttered, her face turning pale.

"I treated him as a part of my future life; he treated me as a joke," I continued. "I can't stay at that school anymore. I can't face him every day, or those who watched me be made a fool of. I can't pretend that nothing happened."

I looked at them, my gaze firm and resolute. "So, I withdrew. This isn't a tantrum, and it’s not a joke. This is my decision. I’ve already completed all the procedures. I didn't come to discuss it with you; I came to inform you."

After saying this, I stopped looking at them, dragged my suitcase, and walked straight to my room, closing the door with a loud bang.

I shut out all the noise and all the gazes.

I knew this was cruel. But I had to close this door with my own hands.

From now on, my life would be dictated by no one but myself.

06

I locked myself in the room, hearing the muffled, fierce arguments of my parents in the living room, punctuated by my mother’s intermittent sobbing.

Before long, the home phone rang. My mother picked it up, initially trying to maintain a polite tone, but it quickly devolved into a dispute.

There was no need to guess; the call was from the Miller family.

The center of the storm had shifted from the university to between our two ordinary working-class families.

Meanwhile, a few dozen miles away at the Miller residence, the atmosphere was even more stifling and furious.

When Seth arrived home, he was met with the ashen face of his father, Mr. Miller, and the swollen, red eyes of his mother, Mrs. Miller.

"So, you know how to come back?" Mr. Miller sat on the sofa, gripping a newspaper so tightly his knuckles turned white.

After I had shaken him off at the school gate, Seth had remained in a state of panic and irritability. He had called me dozens of times and sent dozens of messages, all falling into a void. He thought I was just hiding to make him worry, never imagining I would withdraw so decisively.

He hadn't even recovered from that massive shock when he was greeted by his parents' judgment upon returning home.

"Dad, Mom, what's wrong?" he asked, feigning casualness, trying to set down his schoolbag.

"You stand right there!" Mr. Miller growled, slamming the newspaper onto the coffee table. "Look at the mess you've made!"