As soon as Mae spoke, Liam shot up from his chair, worry etched across his face. "What happened? How long have you been knocking?"

Mae answered quickly, "About seven or eight minutes."

Seven or eight minutes wasn't all that long, really.

But the problem was, Harlan never needed to be woken up-he'd always get up on his own.

Liam pressed, "Go get Zack right now. Have him break the lock!"

"No need for that," Yara said, completely unruffled. She stood up at a leisurely pace, a small smile playing on her lips. "Harlan asked me last night if I'd take him out to watch the fireworks. I said no. He's probably sulking over it and trying to get back at me."

Liam let out a sigh of relief. "Alright, let's go upstairs and check on him."

"Sure." Yara nodded.

The couple headed up the stairs, one after the other, with Mae trailing behind.

Upstairs, Yara raised her hand and knocked on the door, calling out with mock sternness, “Harlan, open up! Come on, open the door! If you open the door now, I'll forgive you. But if you keep this up, I'm going to get really mad."

To Yara, it was obvious-her son was just throwing a childish tantrum.

No one knows their child better than a mother.

But as soon as her words ended, the room stayed eerily silent.

"Harlan, it's Dad. Open the door." Liam tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

Yara frowned. "How many times have I told him not to lock the door at night? He never listens!"

She turned to Mae. "Mae, this afternoon, find someone to switch out this lock. Make sure he can't lock himself in anymore."

If Harlan refused to listen, Yara would just have to take matters into her own hands.

"Yes, ma'am."

Liam frowned, trying to hide his concern. "Isn't that a bit much? He's entitled to some privacy."

"Privacy?" Yara let out a short, incredulous laugh. "He's just a child. What privacy does a ten-year-old need?"

Liam had to admit, she had a point.

Harlan was still so young-just ten. What kind of privacy did a ten-year-old really need?

Click-

Just then, the door opened. Harlan stood there in his pajamas, looking pale and tired. "Good morning, Dad. Good morning, Mom."

"We've been knocking for ages! Why did it take you so long to open the door?" Yara asked, her irritation obvious.

"I... I didn't feel well. My chest hurt, and I wanted to get up, but I just couldn't move. I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean it..."

It was the first time Harlan had ever experienced something like that. He'd heard their voices, but his body just wouldn't cooperate.

His chest felt tight, and he was miserable.

"Still pretending? You're still at it?" Yara's frustration boiled over. In her eyes, Harlan was perfectly healthy. "Harlan, you'll do anything to get out of studying! You took your medicine, I didn't even make you practice piano last night, and now you're saying you feel sick again? When are you going to stop pretending?"

Harlan burst into tears, retreating behind Liam. "I'm not pretending, Mom. I'm really not... I really don't feel good..."

Seeing her son cry only made Yara angrier. What kind of child bursts into tears first thing on New Year's Monday?

She'd given up nearly everything for him.

And this was how he repaid her?

Yara couldn't understand why her son just couldn't be more sensible—why he had to upset her like this, and on New Year's Monday of all days! If this kept up, she'd lose years off her life.

Liam shielded Harlan behind him and looked at Yara, irritation creeping into his voice. “Enough. Today's a holiday—why are you picking a fight with him?"

Then Liam turned back to Harlan. "Harlan, apologize to your mom."

"Dad, I really wasn't pretending. I just felt really, really awful..." Harlan's voice shook, his eyes full of hurt.

He didn't understand why his parents never believed him.

He just wanted to grow up-grow up so he could finally leave this house behind.

Liam's patience wore thin, and he frowned. "Harlan, it's New Year's Monday. Don't make me lose my temper."

There was no mistaking the warning in his tone.

Frightened, tears welling in his eyes, Harlan glanced at Yara. "I'm sorry, Mom. I was wrong..."