“Welcome back. Emmy, how was your first day at school?”

The sweet and gentle voice came from the kitchen. I darted my eyes directly to the kitchen, still feeling unsure. After two years of not hearing her voice, it all felt so surreal to me.

I gulped and sauntered to the kitchen, “M—Mom, is that you?”

“Yeah! I’m making dinner!” Mom raised her voice so I could hear her. I could smell the scent of garlic and spices from the kitchen as I walked forward.

“Mom…” I called again, wanting to make sure that I wasn’t dreaming.

“What? Emmy, if you have time to keep calling me, you also have time to help me prepare for dinner!”

My body trembled as I listened to her voice scolding me again. Back then, I didn’t realize how much I would miss her voice. I reached the kitchen and saw a woman in a blue apron. Her long black hair was tied up in a bun as she cooked something in a pot.

She still wore a white shirt and jeans, her usual working attire when working as a receptionist, proving that she had just returned from work.

She looked at me and frowned, “Emmy, why are you staring at me like that? So how was your first day at school? Since we’re new here, I was worried that you might get bullied.”

I bit my lips as I saw her concern. I didn’t realize how much I treasured her until I lost her completely. Many people didn’t realize how privileged they were until they lost it, including the privilege of having parents.

Well, specifically a mother. Because my dad was an abuser, and a drunkard who beat my mum and me so many times. Until five months ago, where things got so bad, that my dad was locked up in jail for severe domestic abuse.

I subconsciously grabbed my left arm, the place where my dad beat me with a stick and left a horrible bruise. Although the wound had disappeared, the pain in my heart lingered.

I couldn’t imagine how much pain my mom had to endure all these years…

“Emmy?” Mom called me again. “Why are you crying? Did someone bully you at school?”

Mom put down the draining spoon in her hand and then walked towards me, “Emmy, what happened?”

I didn’t realize I had tears in my eyes. Maybe it was the overwhelming emotion of meeting my mom again, the only family I had in this world.

I stretched my arms and hugged mom’s waist. I let my tears dampen my mom’s shirt as I buried my face in her shoulder.

“Mom…”

I felt her hands pat my head while she asked, “Really, are you okay? You can tell me about your problems, you know.”

“Mom… I miss you so much. I’ve been missing you for years….” I sobbed. Like a dam bursting inside my heart, it was such a relief when I could finally utter the words I’ve wanted to say for so long.

“What are you saying, Emmy? I saw you justWe just parted this morning!” Mom continued patting my head and then asked again, “Are you alright?”

After a while, I finally smiled in front of her and nodded happily, “I’m alright, mom. School is fun.”

I didn’t want to make her worry. Back in the first timeline, I reported all the bullying I experienced to my mom. Mom naturally went to the principal office to demand a fair judgment for all things I’d suffered.

But who would’ve expected that one of the bullies in my school called his father, and my Mom got fired from her only job that sustained us? Because that bully’s father was the manager in the company where my mom worked, and mom was forced to find a job, far from our area with small pay.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! I’m perfectly okay!” I nodded happily. “I can handle this, don’t worry!”

Yes, I could handle this alone. This would be my revenge on them, and I wouldn’t involve my mom in this.

Most of those bullies knew they were far more privileged in life, so they could act like monsters to less privileged people, like me.

But I could always use it to my advantage, of course.

“Anyway, I cooked something for dinner following a recipe from Google, so I’m not sure if it’ll taste good,” mom said. She glanced at the mysterious pot full of vegetables and meat.

“Ah, it will taste good, mom. I trust you.”

I knew that my mom was a terrible cook, no matter what she cooked. She would always screw things up and make it taste terrible.

But I really wanted to try that horrible cooking, just once after so long. Because that was something that my mom made for us.

I helped her serve the Dinner, and then we ate together.

…

Okay, I take back my words, I missed my mom very much, but her cooking was still terrible.

Absolutely something that shouldn’t be put on the table.

“Hmm… it’s missing something, but it’s not bad,” my mom said.

NOT BAD?!

IT’S HORRENDOUS! GORDON RAMSAY WOULD THINK YOU’RE TRYING TO POISON HIM!

“Y—Yeah, mom,” I said and continued taking small bites of the chicken that tasted so weird.

“Did you make any friends?”

“Yeah, I made one,” I said. What mom asked was sometimes trivial and a bit childish, but it was her attentiveness that made me happy.

“Just tell me if you get bullied at school, we’re new here, so I know it might be hard for you.”

“Okay, mom. Don’t worry though, I can handle this just fine.

Yes, I could handle this just fine. Just watch me playing chess with the mean girls and jerks in school, where I will use them as my pawns and take out the unimportant ones.

“Oh, don’t forget to deliver some to Grandma. She’s in her room, still feeling ill.”

I gulped as I stared at the horrendous soup on the table, “I—I think I will cook something for her instead.”