I was born only because my older sister had a congenital heart defect. To save money for her surgery, Mom worked three part-time jobs a day, and Dad worked overtime until midnight every single day. My job was to stay home and take care of my sister. Feeding her, helping her catch her breath, giving her sponge baths. The moment she coughed, I had to immediately get up to give her oxygen and medicine. Day and night, without a moment's rest. But I never complained. I knew that if I were the one who was sick, they would take care of me the exact same way. Until I fainted right before the New Year. I went to the hospital and was diagnosed with a primary brainstem tumor. Looking at the diagnosis: “The tumor has compressed the medulla oblongata; it is in an extremely advanced stage, and there is no opportunity for surgery.” My first thought was: If I'm gone, who will take care of my sister? How heartbroken will Mom and Dad be? Only after figuring out a way to take care of them did I feel at peace, deciding to go home and tell them. But at the door, I overheard my parents talking: “Sigh, Mia was crying to me today, saying she didn't want to die. It broke my heart.” “She’s such a good girl, why did she have to get this disease?” “Why couldn't it have been Chloe who got sick? My poor Mia hasn't experienced a single day of health in her life.” My hand on the doorknob froze. I looked down at the signed "Human Organ Donation Registration Form" in my hand and let out a bitter smile. Mom, Dad, after New Year's Eve, your wish will come true. 1 I put away the registration form and waited at the door for a few minutes before pushing it open and going inside. I smiled casually and greeted them: "I'm home." As soon as Mom saw me, the corners of her mouth turned down: "Running wild until now? The whole family is waiting for you." "Hurry up and call your sister; she can't go hungry." I obediently agreed, my footsteps into the house still light. As if I hadn't heard anything just now. My sister was lying in her pitch-black room, her breathing barely audible. I bent down and called her softly: "Mia, it's time to eat." "Let me help you up, okay?" There was no movement for a long time. Worried, I reached out to touch her forehead: "Are you not feeling well?" Smack. She slapped my hand away. Her hand fell limply onto the blanket, her eyes closed, refusing to look at me: "Get lost, don't touch me." I paused for a second, pretended I didn't hear, and continued to help her up. "Just eat a little, okay? Your body won't handle it if you don't." "If you don't want to move, I can bring it in and feed you, alright?" The moment I said I would feed her, she slowly got up, getting ready to go out and eat. I followed behind her, carefully guarding her, finding amusement in my bitterness. Sure enough, she still hates me touching her. Got her right where I want her. The moment I stepped out of the bedroom, I blinked to clear the moisture from my eyes, and a smile returned to my face: "Mom, Mia is up. We can eat now." The apartment we lived in was very small. From the bedroom to the dining table was barely thirty feet, yet she was panting heavily by the time she got there. I followed behind, watching her with worry, but didn't dare reach out to support her. As we reached the dining table, Mom just happened to come out of the kitchen. She quickly jogged over, casually shoving me aside, and carefully helped my sister sit down. I rubbed my waist where it hit the corner of the table, letting out a small gasp of pain. Mia looked up and glared at me, her breathing becoming rapid: "Do you think I look funny when I have an attack? Are you mocking me on purpose?" Before I could explain, Dad's slap had already landed on my face: "You're a grown woman now, have some sense! Apologize right now, don't make your sister angry!" He turned to her, his voice immediately softening: "Mia, ignore her. Your health is the most important thing; you need to avoid emotional swings." Holding my face, my eyes stinging, I whispered an apology, then lowered my head to comfort myself. She doesn't hate me; she's just in too much pain from being sick. Mia's breathing quickly steadied, and Mom and Dad finally sat down with relief. I pulled myself together and quickly served them rice. Mom was serving soup for my sister and gestured for me to put the rice bowl on the table: "Never home all day, now you know how to act good." "What have you been busy with these past few days?" My hand, holding the chopsticks, froze. After confirming there was no hope for a cure, I had spent the last few days at the hospital consulting about a heart transplant. Fortunately, my disease wouldn't affect other organs, so my heart could be transplanted normally. I also found out that organ donation could come with some financial compensation. If I sold my corneas, kidneys, and liver, it could amount to maybe fifty thousand dollars. That way, I could rest a little easier after I passed. Before I could answer, Mom unilaterally issued an order: "From now on, you stay home and take care of your sister. Do you know how much pay I've been docked for missing work these past few days?" "Alright, that's enough. Didn't Chloe say she had a headache and went to the hospital for a checkup?" Dad stopped Mom's nagging, then turned to ask me: "How were the test results? Everything okay?" "If you get sick too, our family really can't afford it." I raised my bowl to hide my expression, trying hard to make my tone sound light: "I'm fine. The doctor said it was just from staying up late. I'll be fine in a couple of days." Mom frowned tightly, glancing at me with dissatisfaction: "I told you it was nothing. Running to the hospital for every little thing, do you think tests are free?" "You've loved wasting money since you were a kid." I knew Mom just liked to nag. But hearing her scold me now still made my heart ache. I kept my head down, poking at the rice in my bowl with my chopsticks: "I've been sensible since I was little. When have I ever wasted money?" Mom scoffed disdainfully: "There are plenty of times." "When you were in elementary school and insisted on taking oil painting lessons, wasn't that wasting money?" I couldn't refute that. To this day, I regret clamoring to learn oil painting back then. 2 In elementary school, I still didn't understand what my sister's illness meant. I also didn't know why Mom and Dad always had furrowed brows. Seeing my desk mate taking oil painting lessons, I went home and clamored to learn too. Mom refused with a dark face, and even rolling on the floor crying was useless. A week later, Mia secretly bought me the tools and paints. I excitedly hugged her, jumping and shouting. But staying up late writing articles to earn the money caused her body to give out, and she had an attack and was hospitalized. After being admitted, she thought she was going to die and secretly told me: "I have a little bit of the writing money left, along with the allowance I saved up. It's under my pillow." "Chloe, go back and take the money. From now on, buy the paints yourself." Fortunately, she pulled through in the end. And I suddenly grew up and became sensible. Later, when the paints she bought ran out, I silently packed everything away and never asked for them again. When Mom casually asked about it, I sheepishly scratched my head: "Painting is too hard; I don't want to learn anymore." While I was lost in memories, Mom thought I was feeling guilty and pressed her advantage: "It's time you grew up. Stop running around all day not coming home." Hearing Mom's words, I felt helpless: "Mom, I really wasn't out playing. I had something to do." "A minor ailment like yours wouldn't take a whole day to check. What could you possibly be doing going out every day this week?" "I..." I originally wanted to tell the truth, but seeing my sister's pale face beside me, and remembering she shouldn't get emotional, I swallowed the words back down. Mom seemed to think my silence meant my lie was exposed, looking even angrier: "I just asked you to stay home and take care of your sister, and you dare make excuses to be lazy and run off." "Raising you was a complete waste." "If it weren't so someone would take care of Mia later, I shouldn't have given birth to you." Dad also looked at me with disappointment: "Chloe, when you were little, you were so sensible, always saying you'd grow up and protect your sister. Why are you so disobedient now?" "Have you forgotten how good your sister was to you when you were little?" Mia kept her head down; I couldn't see her expression. I only saw her hand gripping the chopsticks tightly, the veins on the back of her hand very prominent. I opened my mouth to explain, but was interrupted by a knock on the door. Mom got up to open it; it was our next-door neighbor. She held up a bag of oranges and gestured: "Your Chloe was standing at the door for a long time just now, and she left this when she went in." "Hurry up and bring it inside, before someone swipes it." Mom's back stiffened. She forced a few pleasantries and saw the neighbor off. She walked slowly back to the table, sat down, and broke the silence in the room: "Did you hear what your dad and I were saying while you were standing at the door?" I nodded numbly without speaking. A flash of panic crossed Mom's eyes, then she forced herself to act calm: "I just remembered you insisting on changing jobs last month. I was so angry I lost my head, and just blurted those things out in the heat of the moment." I remained silent, staring at my rice bowl, my mind completely blank. Seeing me not speak, Mom's tone took on a bit of irritation: "I wasn't wrong at all with what I said." "Why wasn't it you, this ungrateful wretch, who got sick?" "You wanting to change jobs is just because you think we're dragging you down, so you can shake us off, right?" Mom's words were like a sharp knife plunging into my heart. I looked at her in disbelief, my lips trembling, unable to make a sound. After graduating, I listened to my parents and found a job close to home. Although the pay was low, it was convenient for taking care of my sister. But this year, her health had been deteriorating, and the medical bills were piling up. Seeing my parents so anxious, I wanted to share their burden, but I couldn't do anything. Until last month, when I received a great job offer. The salary was triple, and the prospects were good. The only downside was that it was in another city. I was ecstatic. With this job, I could earn more money, buy better medicine for my sister, and lighten my parents' load. But I never expected Mom to disagree. Full of confusion, I was still trying hard to explain it to her. So that's what they thought. 3 Tears slid down unconsciously, the drop on my hand startling me awake. Mom was still endlessly listing my faults. I wanted to speak, to tell her I wasn't going to change jobs. After all, I only had a few days left to live; there was no need anymore. But a sudden attack interrupted my explanation. A throbbing pain emanated from the back of my head, and my chest felt tight, like a heavy stone was pressing on it. I gripped the table leg tightly to keep my balance. Only after the pain subsided did I realize Mom's anger had intensified. She seemed to take my pain as a sign of defiance, her tone becoming even harsher: "Your wings have hardened, and you dare to give me attitude?" "Tell me clearly today, are you going to take care of your sister or not?" "Enough!" Mia held onto the table and stood up, her face looking awful: "Stop talking. I won't need her to take care of me from now on." "If she wants to work, let her go, I..." Before she could finish, Mia collapsed back into her chair, clutching her chest and panting heavily. Mom shoved me aside and ran to her side to rub her back, yelling at Dad: "Hurry and get Mia's medicine!" I fell to the floor, my vision going dark in waves, wanting to get up and help but unable to move. Dad was in such a rush to find the medicine he didn't even see me on the floor. He didn't even notice when he stepped on my hand as he passed by. At this moment, enduring the excruciating headache of an attack, I couldn't even care about my stepped-on hand. Sharp headaches hit me in waves. I curled up on the floor, gritting my teeth. Mom and Dad's gentle, concerned voices for my sister seemed to drift over from far away, blurry and indistinguishable. After a long time, the pain finally ended. I held onto the table and shakily stood up. Looking around the living room, I realized I was the only one left. Warm yellow light spilled from my sister's room, and through the crack in the door, I could vaguely see Mom tucking her in. I lowered my head and stood there. Even though I was in my own home, I felt like I had nowhere to go. It wasn't until Mia fell asleep that Mom tiptoed out of the room. Seeing me standing in the living room, her brow immediately furrowed. She walked over quickly and pinched the flesh on my arm, twisting hard: "Your sister isn't feeling well, and you're standing here like a log. Are your legs broken?" "Keep quiet tonight, and look after your sister carefully!" Ignoring the pain in my arm, I looked at Mom with a sliver of hope: "Mom, my head hurts so much..." But before I could finish, Mom cut me off: "Why don't you just hurt to death then!" "Faking an illness just because I asked you to do something. Can you grow up a little!" My world suddenly went quiet, my heart a vast emptiness. I only saw Mom's mouth moving, but couldn't hear her voice. I nodded numbly until Mom stopped, satisfied. After Mom walked away, I instinctively walked to Mia's room. I don't know how long I stood by her bed. By the time her mocking words broke the silence, my feet were already numb. "Chloe, stop pretending. You're just wishing I were dead so you'd never have to take care of me again, right?" I was pinned to the spot by her dark gaze. When I was little, I thought my sister was the gentlest person in the world. She would knit bunny dolls for me, tell me stories, and gently comfort me when I cried. But I don't know when the gentle sister disappeared. Lost in memories, I didn't speak, but she didn't need my reply anyway: "So what if you're healthy? I'm the daughter Mom and Dad love the most." "In this family, you are the extra one!" "Now get out. Seeing you makes me sick." My heart felt sour, but I didn't dare say anything more, afraid of agitating her. I went back to the cramped storage room, lay on the bed, and stared at the ceiling with tear-filled eyes. It's okay. My sister is sick and needs their love more. That's why Mom and Dad occasionally ignore me. Once she has the surgery, everything will be fine. 4 The hospital was very efficient. A couple of days later, Mom and Dad received a phone call. Someone was donating a heart; after the New Year, my sister could prepare for the surgery. Seeing hope, the smiles on Mom and Dad's faces finally increased. Light returned to my sister's eyes; she no longer acted like she had given up. Watching my family's hopeful faces, I completely swallowed my fear and reluctance to part. And waited for the New Year with them. On the morning of New Year's Eve, taking advantage of Mom's good mood, I acted cute and asked for sweet and sour ribs for dinner. Unable to resist my clinging, Mom laughed, scolded me a bit, but still agreed. Because of my sister's illness, there were many things she couldn't eat. Since money was tight, the dining table always had the same few bland dishes. I loved sweet and sour ribs the most, but hadn't had them many times. Thinking about eating them tonight, I even forgot the fear of going to the hospital soon. Only anticipation remained in my heart. But when it was time for dinner that evening, there were no sweet and sour ribs on the table. I looked at Mom in confusion: "Are there still dishes in the kitchen? I'll go get them." Mom, busy serving soup to my sister, answered offhandedly: "Your sister said she wanted shrimp, so I didn't buy the ribs." "Eating shrimp is just as good, it's a great dish." I told myself to be understanding; the family had a heavy burden, and Mom and Dad had no choice. Yet I still heard my trembling voice: "Mom, do you remember that I'm allergic to shrimp?" Mom looked back at me, her tone impatient: "Can't you eat the vegetables on the table? Do you absolutely have to eat meat? Are you as delicate as Mia?" "She rarely has an appetite, and today she finally wanted something." "You can eat sweet and sour ribs later, it's the same thing." I stood frozen, my throat feeling like it was stuffed with cotton, unable to speak. But I have no "later." My heart felt sour, and I couldn't control the large tears smashing onto the floor. Dad gave me a look of disgust and said in dissatisfaction: "Throwing a tantrum over such a little thing. Let's eat, ignore her." "She'll come eat when she's tired of crying." Soon, the cheerful sounds of the three of them filled the living room. I, standing nearby, felt like I was invisible, receiving no further attention. "In this family, you are the extra one!" My sister's past words echoed in my ears. This time, I couldn't find a reason to refute them. Early the next morning, I packed my things and checked into the hospital. My condition had been constantly deteriorating, and the doctor had urged me to be hospitalized long ago. It's just that I was worried my absence during the New Year would make my family worry, and I wanted to spend it at home. So I dragged it out until now. During my hospitalization, Mom kept sending me messages scolding me: "You ungrateful wretch, running away from home just because you missed out on one dish? If you have any guts, don't ever come back." I brushed it off using the excuse of looking for a job. A couple of days later, Mom sent another message: "Your sister is hospitalized preparing for surgery, and you're not even going to come back to see her?" Lying in my hospital bed, I smiled bitterly. Mom, actually I live right upstairs from you. I see everything. After being admitted, my symptoms worsened daily, frequently falling into a semi-comatose state. The entire right side of my body was completely paralyzed; I couldn't even fully turn my head. Until I woke up from a sleep and realized I was a soul. I floated downstairs to find my family and saw Mom and Dad waiting outside the operating room. Mom's face was tense and pale, tightly clutching the hem of Dad's shirt. Both were muttering incessantly, praying constantly. Three hours later, the doctor came out. He took off his mask, his smile mixed with exhaustion: "Congratulations, the surgery was a great success." Mom stumbled, as if losing all her strength, and fell to her knees. Dad's eyes instantly turned completely red, and he let out a long sigh of relief. Soon, my sister was wheeled out and sent to the Intensive Care Unit. Looking at her lying quietly on the bed, Mom and Dad finally calmed down. And remembered me again. Mom couldn't help complaining to Dad: "I don't know what that girl Chloe is busy with." "Her messages lately are sporadic, taking half a day to reply." "I told her her sister was having surgery today, and even though she's not here, she doesn't even know to call and ask." Dad's brow furrowed slightly and then quickly relaxed: "Her heart is distant from us." "After the surgery, Mia will get better, and we won't need her anyway." "From now on, we'll just take good care of Mia and ignore her." I had been floating beside them listening. So souls can feel pain too. Watching Mom about to retort, she was interrupted by her phone ringing. She glanced at it casually, answered it, and put it to her ear. "Hello, is this the family of Chloe Miller?" "The deceased's organ donation surgery has been successfully completed. Please bring your ID to the morgue of Central People's Hospital to process the body claiming procedures."
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