Once I had it, I couldn’t bear to eat it. I kept it in my drawer, taking it out now and then just to look at it.
Then, Fiona saw it.
She started crying immediately, running to my parents, screaming that I had stolen her chocolate.
I thought if I explained clearly, the misunderstanding would be resolved.
I told them, “I bought this myself. I didn’t take it from her box.”
But before I could finish, Mom’s palm struck my cheek.
“So young, and already a liar. What kind of person will you grow up to be? If you didn’t steal from your sister, are you saying she falsely accused you?”
The slap stung, but her words hurt even more.
By then, I had already learned not to expect fairness.
I met her gaze calmly and said, “If you don’t believe me, I’ll take you to the store.”
So I did.
The store owner remembered me.
She had asked why I hadn’t come with my parents when I’d handed her a pile of crumpled bills in exchange for a single piece of expensive candy.
She confirmed my story.
Finally, my parents realized they had been wrong.
But they never apologized.
Instead, they shoved me toward the door, telling me to hurry up and leave.
“You’ve embarrassed us enough. All this fuss over one piece of chocolate? How petty.”
Children don’t understand things like embarrassment or pride.
They only know that everyone else gets something, and they don’t.
And when they don’t, they try to get it for themselves.
And yet, even then, they’re blamed for it.
In the end, I ate that chocolate.
I had to. If I waited any longer, it would’ve melted.
I had imagined it would taste sweet.
