The Obedient Daughter's Meltdown

After I wrote the equation 7×2 as 2×7, I took my mother to court. The courtroom was packed to the brim, whispers buzzing like tiny needles pricking at everyone's skin. "What an ungrateful brat—Isn't Mom just being strict?" "After raising you all these years, you actually sue your own mother? Don't you have any conscience?" Those words floated into my ears, but I didn't even flinch. Mother sat in the plaintiff's seat, her shoulders shaking, tears falling like broken strings of pearls. "Reagan, Mom just wanted you to get into a good university, to make something of yourself. How can you treat me like this?" She choked back tears, her voice thick with pain. I stared at her blankly, like I was watching a play that had nothing to do with me. The judge slammed the gavel, declaring I had lost, and reporters swarmed around me, their microphones nearly shoved into my face. "Why are you suing your own mother? She seems to love you so much." Mother suddenly lunged at me, pushing the reporters aside and pulling me into a tight embrace—her grip strong enough to crush me into her bones. "Reagan, tell me, what exactly do you want me to do for you to forgive me?" I pried her hand apart, my voice calm and steady: "I want to cut ties with you." The flash went off instantly, stabbing pain into my eyes. The whole room erupted in murmurs; the looks aimed at me were a mix of shock, contempt, and cruel satisfaction. Mother's face turned deathly pale. She gripped my raised hand tightly, shaking it hard: "Reagan, have you lost your mind? It's all Mom's fault—I pushed you too hard, didn't I?" Her nails almost sank into my shoulder, but I was numb, like a lifeless ragdoll, frozen and still. That look completely enraged her. She suddenly pulled away from me and slapped her own face sharply, the crisp sound of the slap echoing through the courtroom. "Mom should be d*mned! Mom shouldn't have forced you! It's Mom's fault!" A few women in the front row couldn't stand it and hurried forward to hold her back: "Lady, don't do this. The child's still young, let's talk this through calmly." Mother was crying so hard she could barely stand, managing to stay upright only with the bailiff's help. Just then, Father came running in, gasping for breath. He was still wearing his dusty engineer's uniform, his hair tousled. "What's going on? What the h*ll is happening?" He pulled my mother into his arms, soothing her softly. I sat there, my mind blank, with only one thought swirling inside: How did I end up here?