I am a mother and a few weeks ago, my daughter fell to her death.

It was ruled a suicide because the doors and windows of the hostel were intact and there were no signs of a struggle inside the house.

The police quickly closed the case with the result of "suicide". Of course I didn't believe it. How could a good person commit suicide for no reason? She was smart, obedient and had a tenth grade in piano, how could such a perfect person commit suicide?

I've been her mother for over 20 years and know her too well! She was not someone who would kill herself.

She was understanding.

She loved the piano.

She studied hard and was optimistic.

She was always quick to make new friends.

She had no flaws except for a bit of low self-esteem.

So I decided to go to her bedroom to sort through her belongings and see if I could find any hints of a suspect. It wasn't difficult, after all, the only personal items she really had were in her bedroom.

I walked into her bedroom and looked around.

A desk piled high with study materials.

A single pink bed.

A two-metre bookshelf.

And her mobile phone on the balcony.

There was nothing suspicious here. Thin grey, white walls, wooden floors, her single bed against the wall.

The sheets and comforter are pink and dotted with little purple flowers - that I had carefully chosen for her ten years ago.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

As it turned out, when I bought it back, she refused my kind offer and requested to change it to black and white.

I thought she was being unreasonable and I angrily rejected her - I couldn't understand at all why a little girl should like black and white, she had to like something a normal girl would like.

Coming back to my senses, I began to continue my search.

I went to my desk and picked the calendar up off the table, reading aloud one of the notes on it.

Dates for big exams, dates for school events, practical assignments due ...... and the birthdays of the whole family were also marked.

Though we never celebrate birthdays.

I went back to the bookshelf, a two-metre high shelf positioned at the corner of the bed and the desk.

From top to bottom, there are tutorials and world books. I have never bought her a spare book for fear that she will go off the deep end.

I returned her library card because she had borrowed a book called "No Life, No Return", which had a strange title and was inappropriate without even looking at it.

I moved to the bottom shelf of the world titles and I almost gasped. There were five game magazines hidden there. The magazines weren't marked with any bookstore logo and I didn't give pocket money because I was afraid she'd have money to learn.

Did she borrow them from a classmate?

No. A good person like her would definitely pay back her classmates before she killed herself.

I skimmed through the magazines, and there was something in there again - a drawing in coloured pencil on A-4 paper, old but well preserved, showing two adults holding a small child.

I finally remembered that it was a birthday present for her daughter when she turned five.

I was so happy that day that I couldn't stop hugging my daughter and telling her how happy I was.

But a few days later, I couldn't be happier.

I heard from my neighbours that painting would delay her studies and would not lead to a good future. For the sake of my daughter's future, I decided to kill the idea of her painting in the cradle.

When I came home, my daughter was still scribbling at her desk. I immediately told her to stop and seriously told her to study hard and not to draw, and that painters, for example, had to wait until they died to become famous.

I told her seriously that she should study hard and not draw, citing the example of the painter who will be famous only after he dies.

I sighed, returned the painting she had given me, confiscated her drawing tools and warned her not to draw, then turned away without further explanation.

I didn't see the look of loss on her face.

.........

I panicked and put back what I had turned out.

Went out to the balcony and picked up her phone.

It was her first phone, only I had given it to her when it was old.

Of course, I would never have given her the phone if it hadn't been a real hassle to get in touch.

Because I was convinced that something on the phone or otherwise would ruin her life, after all, there are so many kids these days who play games and waste their education.

Dutifully, I check in every week to prevent her from getting addicted to games.

Even though it's her privacy.

As luck would have it, the first time I checked, I found a cartoon drawing in her photo album, which made me very angry.

Just as I was about to argue with her, I checked her phone again.

She seemed to have realised her mistake.

All that was left in the album were some questions discussed with her classmates and the music was some classic piano music.

And there were no games to be found on the whole phone.

It was perfect, wasn't it? That's what a good daughter should do.

So I took my breath away and happily put it back in its place, silently praising my daughter in my mind for her understanding.

There were no more problems with subsequent checks either.

............

Five minutes later, the phone slowly turned on.

The screen that opened made me freeze - it had been formatted.

All the software was empty.

Annoyed, I finally opened the memo.

Two post-it notes hung at the top.

"I've done everything you want me to do, so leave me alone."

"Save some self-respect for me, will you? Spare me the probing."

My hand shook uncomfortably.

How could the good girl speak to me in such a tone?