It turns out that wasn't the case. Amber and I could be discarded at any time, unloved.
At dinner, seeing my father's gloomy face, I knew he was aware of it, too.
So, I didn't bother asking anything further.
Tonight's dinner was unusually lavish, with two types of salads, ham and a big bowl of chicken soup on the table.
Seeing me cry, Mother sneered, "Oh, don't eat the meal Amber paid for with her life, you worthless creature!"
I bowed my head and shoveled a mouthful of the dishes, tears falling in large drops, yet my tongue couldn't help but savor this rare, delicious taste.
The next day, while working in the fields, I overheard people from the village talking and learned that Amber hadn't died; she had been sold.
I breathed a sigh of relief. I was glad that she wasn't dead.
"Angela, you have no idea how wealthy the visitors were yesterday. They bought three girls in one go; Amber went off to live a better life."
The logic seemed sound to me. Perhaps being bought by a wealthy person was better than staying here. At least there would be food at every meal.
She looked at me closely, then added, "But you're not as fortunate; you don't have Amber's beauty, and nobody would want you."