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Later, my mother fell seriously ill. Her health deteriorated, and she often cried and screamed at night. I was very scared. But I would carefully walk over and hug her. "Mom, don't cry, Xuan Xuan loves you." At that moment, my mother would hold me, crying and laughing at the same time.
In my mother's room, there was a diary. Every time my mother lost control of her emotions, she would hold the diary and cry. I didn't understand what kind of magic that diary had to make my mother so sad.
I grew up slowly under my mother's protection. I didn't feel much about my parents' divorce because I had never really had a father; I couldn't even see him. But having my mother was enough for me.
That summer when my mother left, her house caught fire. I stood outside the burning building, repeatedly dialing my father's number on my phone. The call was hung up again and again. Then, my mother came out, holding the diary and handed it to me. I was taken away by Aunt.
Aunt hastily wrapped up my mother's affairs and slapped me, saying "bad luck," as she grumbled while taking me away. Holding my mother's diary, I looked back at the evening glow that day, as red as the day my mother passed away.
Years later, my father learned from the doctors that he could no longer have children, so he took me back. I knew he didn't like me. If he did, he wouldn't have let me lie outside the fire scene, watching helplessly as my mother burned to death.
But I also don't like him.
I didn't resist because I had long seen through the true nature of these people.
I held my mother's diary and returned to that detestable place.
I saw Secretary Wang.
A woman deceived by my father.
She is younger than my mother, more beautiful, and gentler.
But she is also more foolish than my mother.
It's ridiculous that she would like my father.
I have slowly grown up.
I can finally understand my mother's diary.
But the content inside disappointed me.
Because there was no love as I had imagined.
It was all curses and accusations.
“Li Junjie, why don't you love me anymore?”
“What did you say when you married me? You said you would love me for a lifetime.”
“You lied to me! You liar!”
“If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be living such a painful life.”
“It’s all your fault.”
“It’s all you.”
“I hate you.”
“I hate you.”
The most frequent phrase in my mother's diary is this one.
She hates my dad.
But occasionally, she writes about other things.
"Xuan Xuan called me mom today. She's very smart, smarter than me."
"Xuan Xuan has grown taller again; she will definitely be taller than me in the future."
"I made braised pork today, and Xuan Xuan really liked it; she ate a lot."
"When will Xuan Xuan be able to call me mom?"
"I played house with Xuan Xuan today; she let me be the princess while she was the knight. It was so much fun."
"Xuan Xuan has grown taller again."
Mom's diary has many entries about me.
She records everything about me.
She loves me.
I know that.
I miss her a lot.
I know she must miss me too.
So every night, I dream.
I dream of mom.
I dream of things from my childhood.
I dream of mom holding me and crying.
I dream of mom being burned to death in a fire.
I dream of mom looking at me, saying over and over, "Xuan Xuan, I hate you."
I know that mom doesn't hate me.
What she hates is dad.
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