When Jiang Yu called, I had just arrived home.

　　The diagnosis report in my bag had already been crumpled into a ball by me.

　　Her voice was cold, as if it had been dipped in ice.

　　"Yesterday was Dad's birthday." "Why didn't you come back..." I interrupted her, "Because I didn't want to." "You could have just come back." The person on the other side seemed to be ignited by anger, "Xiao Chu rushed back from abroad." "Why didn't you come back?" Tang Chu is the son of my uncle, who has been staying at our house since he was young.

　　"If he could come back, then it should be fine.

　　After all, you only treat him as your brother." After saying that, I hung up.

　　The last ray of twilight fell into the house.

　　I sat at the table and tore the diagnosis report into shreds.

　　When the scattered pieces of paper fell on the table, my phone suddenly lit up.

　　It was a message from Jiang Yu: Mom's death anniversary is coming soon.