Modern World Today
The apartment lobby smelled clean and faintly floral, like a luxury hotel. Ari stepped inside, nerves twisting in her stomach. She walked quickly to the elevator and pressed the button, trying to steady her breathing as she waited.
Was the elevator taking longer than usual, or was time just dragging itself today?
Ari gave herself a quick once-over in the elevator mirror.
Well, I don't look too terrible, she thought, trying to stay calm as she gently put down the expansive fruit basket she'd bought for this visit.
Her reflection had tired eyes, thin smile, hair that had defied every attempt to be tame this morning.
She fussed with her hair again but gave up quickly. No amount of styling could hide the heavy circles under her eyes. Her plain outfit wasn't helping either.
Maybe I should've gone home to change first... But thinking back to her wardrobe, she knew it was hopeless. Everything she owned was plain. All she could afford.
The elevator dinged. Her stomach twisted. She took a deep breath of courage. Another for strength. She picked up the fruit basket and took one last breath to silence her nervousness. She let her heart fill her mind with dreams. After all, she'd come all the way here to celebrate.
Maybe Mom would smile at her today. Maybe she'd reach out, pat her on the head, and say she did a great job—that she was proud to be her mom. Then she'd pull her into a warm hug, just like Ari had seen one of her classmates' mothers do at teacher-student-parent night. That moment had clung to her ever since, a scene she'd replayed a hundred times in her mind, wondering what it would be like to be held like that.
As she stepped into the hallway, her shoes made soft taps against the polished marble floors. The hallway was lined with sleek decor, glossy paintings, and a fresh floral scent - an expensive one, the kind found in high-end hotels. She straightened her shoulders and knocked once before letting herself in.
"Mom, I'm here!" Ari called out, stepping inside the apartment.
She quickly took off her shoes and made her way to the living room. Her mother was on the sofa, scrolling on her phone, legs elegantly crossed. The faint scent of lavender and cinnamon drifted through the room, cozy but distant.
"I got the scholarship," she announced brightly, her voice trembling with hope.
She waited.
Nothing. Not even a glance. Her mother's fingers kept scrolling, eyes locked on the glowing screen like Ari hadn't spoken at all.
When she was nine, she made handmade cards for Mother's Day. Her brothers had forgotten, but Ari remembered. She'd spent the whole week planning it. She used every crayon in her little box—scribbling uneven hearts, writing "I love you, Mommy" in her wobbly handwriting, even gluing glitter stars along the edges because she thought it would make her mother smile. Her fingers were stained with markers for days. But her mother didn't look up then either. She set the card aside without a word. That was the first time Ari realized love might be something she had to earn. That maybe being good wasn't enough. Maybe she had to be exceptional.
Letting it slide, Ari didn't give up. She held the fruit basket up, a hopeful trembling smile on her lips that begged for connection.
"I bought this to celebrate the bonus I got from work today." She forced cheer into her voice, trying to sound light and proud, like she'd heard coworkers do when sharing good news. Her arms ached slightly from holding the heavy basket, but she held it steady, like a child presenting a handmade gift.
That should make her happy… right?
Why does it feel colder in here all of a sudden? Ari wondered, the shift in atmosphere hitting her like a draft through a broken window. Her fingers tightened around the basket handle, heart sinking with the realization that something had already gone wrong.
Ari shifted her weight, the silence growing heavy as she waited for any hint of approval. The chill in the room wasn't from the air conditioner—she was sure of that now.
"My coworker recommended the store, she said the fruit was del—"
"What are you so proud of?" her mother snapped, her disapproving tone sharp enough to make Ari flinch. The room felt like it dropped ten degrees.
Her mother still hadn't looked up from her phone. The only acknowledgment of Ari's presence was the faint crease of annoyance between her brows.
"Are there even kids not getting scholarships these days?" she continued, voice thick with disdain. "The girl next door already got one, plus a company bonus."
Ari's chest tightened. She fought the shiver crawling up her spine.
Even without the words, Ari heard the real question loud and clear: Why can't you do BETTER?
Finally, her mother looked up. Only to frown deeper.
"You didn't buy this fruit from the XX Department Store? Your brothers only eat fruit from there. Don't you even know that?"
Ari lowered her head, shame crawling across her skin.
"I'm sorry," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.
Just then, the front door opened.
"Mom, we're here!" called her youngest brother.
The change in her mother was instant. Like flipping a switch. The frost melted. A warm spring breeze rushed in to take its place.
Ari watched as her mother smiled—the smile she'd been silently begging for earlier. But now it hurts.
Why did it still hurt?
Her mother stood and grabbed her favorite designer handbag—the one she only used on special occasions. That's when Ari noticed the outfit. Elegant. Unusually dressed up.
Then she walked right past Ari. As if she wasn't even there.
Trailing behind, Ari watched her mother's face light up as she met her two sons in the entryway.
"Aww, my boys are so cool!" she giggled.
Two handsome young men stood there—Ari's younger brothers.
"I've been waiting for you! Let's go, the taxi should be here any minute."
"Where are you going?" Ari asked quietly.
Without pausing or looking back, her mother answered cheerfully, "To Grandma's. To celebrate your brothers getting into that prestigious university. So we're all—"
She stopped, as if suddenly remembering who she was talking to.
Then her voice turned cold again. "You don't need to know."
Still walking, still smiling but never for Ari.
"And since you have nothing else to say, you should leave."
Her tone wasn't sharp, but cool and polite. Like a hostess trying to usher out an overstaying guest. A clear dismissal.
Her youngest brother glanced at her briefly. There was no pity in his eyes. Why would there be? This was normal.
"Oh, and don't forget to take that fruit basket with you," her mother added, just before stepping out.
To Ari, it sounded like a superior ordering a subordinate to take out the trash.
Then the door closed.
And she was alone.
The bus ride home was quiet. Ari stared out the window as the city lights streamed past. Everything outside looked warm. Families out to dinner, kids laughing on sidewalks, lights glowing behind apartment windows. A violinist played a soulful melody near a train station, and for a moment, Ari imagined she was in a different story.
One where someone might've noticed she was hurting.
By the time she arrived near her apartment, the sky had darkened to indigo, stars peeking through the smoggy skyline.
Her apartment was a small one-bedroom unit. Quiet. Dim. But at least here, the silence didn't sting.
With a tired sigh, she placed the untouched fruit basket into the empty fridge, then peeled off her jacket. She went to draw a bath—hot water steaming, fogging up the small mirror above the sink.
Ari was 23. She was a college student. She worked every job she could that wouldn't interfere with her studies. Sometimes she took the late shift cleaning offices. Sometimes she did translation work online. It was exhausting, but it kept her afloat.
After a bath, feeling just a little more human, she collapsed on top of her bed. The mattress squeaked faintly under her weight. Her phone buzzed with a notification.
It was from her favorite webnovel.
"I Was Not Adopted, I Found My Family."
Ari smiled. Her only true joy these days. The story is updated every night.
"Because you're my most precious daughter in the world."
"Dad…"
The heroine had a father, a family, and friends. She was loved. Cherished. The kind of life Ari could only dream about.
Reading this felt like dipping her soul into a warm healing spring. Especially after a day like today.
She scrolled down, soaking in every line.
"You don't need to prove anything to me. I love you, simply because you're you."
Tears welled unexpectedly.
Would someone ever say that to me? Would I ever be seen as someone worthy enough to protect, just because I exist?
Why do they hate me so much?
Her eyes grew heavy. A yawn escaped her.
Wouldn't it be nice… to live in a world where everyone loved me?
[A world... where you are loved?]
"Yes," she whispered, already slipping into sleep.
Too far gone to wonder where that voice had come from.