I lost Ethan. I lost him in the summer of our seventh year. Even when I coughed up blood, he didn’t panic like he used to. Standing outside the clinic, I sent him a message: "Ethan, my throat's been acting up. Can you take me to the hospital?" His reply was instant. "Your pharyngitis cleared up ages ago." "Lina, stop faking it." A coppery tang flooded my throat. I typed back, my fingers trembling slightly. "It's just a check-up." A humorless laugh came through in his next text. "Fine. You want to wait? Wait." So I waited, perched on a plastic chair at the clinic's entrance, obedient as ever. I waited for a very, very long time. Long enough for the crimson stain to blossom and spread across my palm. Ethan never came. 1 I never imagined I would die so unceremoniously, slumped on a chair outside a small clinic on the south side of town. Before my eyes closed for the last time, all I felt was an overwhelming exhaustion. I just needed to rest for a little while, I told myself. Just a little while, and then I would see Ethan. I pictured him standing before me, scolding me for not taking my medication, for messing around in a place like this. As my vision blurred, I mentally rehearsed the excuses I'd give for needing him. Because you were always the one who took me to my appointments. Because my insurance card is still in your drawer. Because if the doctor asks about my tonsillectomy from when I was a kid, you remember the details better than I do. Yes, those were the reasons. It had nothing to do with how desperately I missed him. Nothing at all. When I opened my eyes again, the world was askew. I saw my own body, limp and twisted in the faded plastic chair. My head was lolled back against the wall, eyelashes resting still and quiet on my cheeks, as if I were in a deep, peaceful sleep. A sudden vibration. My phone, which had been resting on my lap, slid to the ground. Instinctively, I reached for it, but my hand passed right through, grasping at nothing but air. I stared at my translucent fingertips. Slowly, sluggishly, the truth dawned. I was dead. I had died quietly, invisibly, at the entrance of a bustling clinic. Died in the time I had spent waiting for Ethan to come for me. The phone screen lit up, displaying a message from Ethan, sent just a minute ago. 【Still there?】 【Guess you're not sick after all.】 【Lina. You lied to me again.】 I didn't lie. My voice was silent, a ghost's whisper. It really did hurt. I’d had chronic pharyngitis since I was a child, and had my tonsils removed at sixteen. But for the past six months, a persistent lump had formed in my throat, and sometimes, I’d cough up streaks of blood. Before… before that happened, Ethan would have been a wreck with worry. He would have rushed me to the hospital without a second thought. But he didn't trust me anymore. He was convinced I was a manipulative liar who would do anything to get what I wanted. Because I’d always been frail, Ethan had stepped into a parental role when he turned twenty. He was meticulous, strict, and flawlessly attentive. He worried if I was cold, if I was catching a chill. He personally checked the temperature of my water and measured every dose of my medicine. A single cough, a clearing of my throat, and he would be at my side, his brow furrowed with concern. I basked in his attention, his care. I would cling to him, declaring childishly, "I'm never going to date anyone." Then I’d tighten my grip on his arm, shaking it for emphasis. "And you're not allowed to either, Ethan! You have to stay with me forever!" He would just chuckle and flick my forehead gently. "Don't be ridiculous," he'd say, his voice soft, never truly sharp. Then, seeing my pout, he'd quickly add, "Alright, alright. I'll wait until you find a boyfriend. How about that?" I’d fall silent, just gazing up at him, wishing that time could freeze forever, yet simultaneously hoping for something to change. Change did come, but it was nothing like I had imagined. I should have looked at him longer back then, I thought, staring at my own corpse. I never even got to see him one last time. People milled past, their gazes sliding over me without a second glance. A girl sleeping outside a clinic was nothing out of the ordinary. Just as that thought crossed my mind, I saw a tiny hand reach down and pick up my phone. 2 It was the little girl who had been sitting next to me earlier. While I was still lucid, we had chatted for a bit, even trading nicknames. She called me "Pretty Lady," and I called her "Sweetie." Sweetie stared at the lit-up screen, her small brow furrowed as she tried to decipher the words. At only six years old, she couldn't read much. After a moment of concentration, she looked at me, her big eyes full of innocent concern. Carefully, so as not to wake me, she placed the phone back in my hand. "Pretty Lady," she whispered, "you dropped your phone. You should hold it tight." When I didn't respond, she scurried back to her mother. A few minutes later, the phone buzzed again. Another message from Ethan. 【I'm at City General Hospital now.】 【If you want to come, take a cab yourself.】 But you told me to wait. Why did you leave? Are you not feeling well, Ethan? The thought sent my spectral form soaring into the air, and in an instant, I was at City General Hospital. I saw him immediately. He stood at the end of a long corridor, his back to me, clad in a crisp white coat as he spoke on the phone. Tall and lean as ever, he exuded an air of unshakeable calm. I drifted closer, planning to give him a little scare, when I heard him say, "The doctor is checking on Mindy now. It should be nothing serious, don't worry." Mindy? What is she doing here? The next second, the examination room door opened. Ethan hung up and walked over. "Everything okay?" he asked the person who emerged. "Ethan, the doctor said I'm fine," Mindy replied, her brow knitted in a delicate frown as she clutched his sleeve. "But I still feel awful. Will you stay with me, please?" That little actress. She had to be faking it! I seethed, my ghostly fingers itching. I swooped forward to throttle her, but my hands passed straight through her neck. Standing between them, I saw the faintest hint of a smile touch Ethan's lips. "Of course," he said, his voice a gentle murmur. Ethan was striking. Tall and refined, with gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose and eyes that held a cool distance. When silent, he seemed unapproachable, a man wrapped in his own world. But when he smiled at me, he became the warmest person on earth. He hadn't smiled at me in a very long time. "However," Ethan continued, the warmth in his expression fading slightly, "Lina will be here soon. I need to go with her for a check-up on her throat." A flash of resentment flickered in Mindy's eyes before vanishing. She forced a smile. "Ethan, you're the kindest, most decent man I've ever met. Lina isn't even your real sister, and after how she deceived you, you're still so good to her." Her words seemed to trigger a dark memory in Ethan. His face clouded over. "This is the last time," he said, his voice low and firm. "If she tries to pull another stunt like this, I won't see her again." I floated in the sterile-smelling hallway. The hot summer wind gusted through the open window, passing right through me. Strange. Why did my throat still ache? "It really is the last time, Ethan," I whispered to the empty air. "I won't bother you anymore." Because… I think I'm already gone. Mindy, satisfied with his answer, took his arm to lead him away. But before they could leave, Ethan's phone rang. I drifted to his side as he answered. A woman's voice came through the receiver. "Dr. Cole? Hello, do you have any news about Lina?" 3 "Lina isn't my sister anymore." Recognizing the voice, Ethan's brow furrowed in irritation. "I hope you'll stop using her as an excuse to contact my family." The caller was my biological mother. Whether from the ravages of her illness or the weight of her guilt, she sounded defeated. After a long pause, she spoke again, her voice weak and choked with tears. "It was my fault. I was the one who lost my mind and swapped Lina with Mindy." "But Lina is innocent. Can't you... can't you treat her like you used to?" It was a cliché straight out of a novel. I was the counterfeit daughter of the wealthy Cole family. Born frail and sickly, my birth mother feared I wouldn't survive, so she secretly switched me with the Coles' healthy newborn. It wasn't until she was diagnosed with terminal kidney failure that she confessed the truth. She had dragged Mindy to the gates of the Cole family mansion, kneeling and sobbing. "I was wrong! And now I'm paying for it, I'm dying! I've brought Mindy back to you. Please... please just let me see Lina. She's my real daughter!" But when she finally saw me, her words were not of apology. "The Coles cured your illness, so you didn't lose out," she'd said. "You enjoyed twenty years of their fortune. It's Mindy's turn now." I wasn't hurt, not really. She was telling the truth. The second night after Mindy moved in, she came to my room, feigning reconciliation. She promised she would beg our parents to let me stay. Foolishly, I blushed and confessed, "I want to stay too, but... I don't want to be Ethan's sister anymore." And so, I confessed to Ethan. I told him I was both heartbroken and relieved. I told him I had realized long ago that my feelings for him were far from familial. I told him I wanted to be with him forever. I watched him, my heart pounding with a mix of terror and hope, and saw only cold disappointment in his eyes. "Hah," he scoffed. "With me forever?" "You mean you want to stay in the Cole family forever, living a life of luxury." He pulled a small voice recorder from his pocket. My own voice filled the air, speaking words from my conversation with Mindy the day before. But the meaning was twisted, warped. My voice: "I have a plan to stay." My voice: "If I can get with Ethan, the Coles will never kick me out." My voice: "I've been acting close to him for years. It's finally time to use him." The piercing wail of an ambulance from outside shattered my memory. An ER doctor hurried past me, bumping into Ethan by accident. He turned back. "Sorry, we've got a sudden death case coming in. Didn't mean to run into you." Ethan, momentarily startled, just shook his head. Then he spoke into the phone again, his voice dripping with venom. "You want me to treat her like I used to? You want me to watch her play the victim, feign innocence, and let her use me?" He let out a cold laugh. "Base instincts really must be genetic. Otherwise, how could she think of confessing to her own brother?" From the other end of the line, a nurse's voice could be heard faintly. "Bed 5, if you don't pay the hospital fees, we'll have to stop her medication..." Hearing this, Ethan's eyes filled with derision. His suspicion hardened into certainty. "Lina didn't come to me for a check-up," he said, his tone absolute. "She came to get money for you, didn't she?" He hung up without waiting for an answer. His fingers flew across his phone screen. He typed: 【Lina, don't bother coming.】 【You won't get a single cent from me.】 I wasn't there for your money. I'll never ask you for money again. Even though I knew he couldn't see me, I recoiled, my spectral form drifting back. I needed to put some distance between us. Because I could feel it, a palpable thing in the air. He truly despised me. And so he painted me as the villain in his mind. "She's not coming. Let's go." Receiving no reply from me, Ethan strode out of the building, a storm cloud of anger around him. As he got into the car, the ambulance screamed past, screeching to a halt at the hospital entrance. A gurney, covered by a stark white sheet, was wheeled inside. Ethan glanced at it in the rearview mirror, then quickly looked away. The Audi began to move, but just as it reached the hospital gates, the driver stopped. Someone was knocking on the rear window. Ethan lowered it to see the same ER doctor who had bumped into him earlier. "Can I help you?" Ethan asked. 4 "Sorry about this, but is this yours?" The doctor held out a single stethoscope earpiece. Matte silver wrapped around soft, fine-grained silicone. It was the birthday gift I had given Ethan last year. He recognized it instantly. "Yes, it is," he said, taking it. "Must have gotten snagged on my coat when I bumped into you," the doctor apologized. "Just found it in my pocket." Ethan closed his hand around the earpiece, nodded his thanks, and raised the window. The Audi pulled away from the curb. During the ride, Mindy chattered on, but Ethan was mostly silent, offering only brief, monosyllabic replies. The hand clutching the earpiece never opened. I sat on the far side of the car, looking past the incessantly talking Mindy at Ethan's profile. I wondered if he was remembering his birthday last year. The earpieces were custom-designed by a famous medical equipment artisan, and the price was astronomical. I wanted to buy them with my own money. For six months leading up to his birthday, I had taken on countless translation projects, working day and night until I had finally saved enough. At the stroke of midnight, I tiptoed into his room. He was hunched over his desk, writing his thesis, a frown on his face. The moment he saw me, the frown vanished, replaced by a warm smile. "Serious face," I commanded playfully. "No smiling." Then I ordered him to close his eyes. He complied, though the corners of his mouth still curved upward, refusing to be tamed. The room fell silent. Gazing at his handsome face, I was mesmerized. A roaring filled my ears—was it his heartbeat, or mine? "Lina?" he murmured, perhaps growing impatient. Flustered, I thrust the velvet box into his view. "You can open your eyes now." He opened the box, and his eyes lit up with genuine surprise. "Help me put them on," he said with a grin. I took out the earpieces, my fingertips trembling. Overwhelmed, I shoved them into his hands, mumbled, "Happy birthday," and fled from his room. Back in my bed, my mind replayed the scene frame by frame, agonizing over whether I had given myself away, whether I had seemed too immature. A soft knock came at my door. Ethan came in and gently pulled me out from under the covers. "Why'd you run?" he asked, his voice laced with amusement. I looked up at him, wanting to say, You have no idea, but the words wouldn't come. He handed me a large gift box. Inside was a complete set of rare, out-of-print medical texts I had been dreaming of, along with an antique fountain pen. Either gift was worth far more than the earpieces. Outside the window, the summer night air of the city drifted in, carrying the sweet, delicate fragrance of jasmine. It wrapped around me, filling my lungs. "Do you like it?" Ethan asked, playfully mussing my hair. His eyelashes cast long shadows on his cheeks as he looked at me, his gaze pure and completely open. "I love it," I whispered, my voice barely audible. The Audi drove through the long, tree-lined driveway of the Cole estate and stopped at the front door. Our mother came out to greet them. "How was it? Is Mindy okay?" she asked with concern. Ethan assured her she was fine. Mindy pulled her usual act, hugging Mom and whining that she still felt unwell. Mom, looking slightly uncomfortable, offered a few words of comfort before sending her to her room. Noticing Mom's own troubled expression, Ethan asked, "Mom, are you feeling alright?" She pressed a hand to her chest, her brow furrowed. "Mindy is fine, but... why do I feel so anxious? I have this terrible feeling. Do you think... do you think something's happened to Lina? The place she's staying now is probably damp; that's terrible for her throat. Please, Ethan, will you go bring her home?" 5 Ethan managed a small smile. "What could happen to her? She's always been so dramatic. The slightest ache and she acts like the world is ending, just so we'll all fuss over her. Besides, her pharyngitis was cured a long time ago." Mom gently shook her head, her worry undiminished. "You were with Lina after her surgery, so you didn't hear what the doctor told us when she was discharged." "He said that a successful childhood surgery doesn't guarantee there won't be problems later in life. Many children with chronic pharyngitis need regular check-ups as adults to screen for cancer." Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't see the way Ethan's expression froze. "Lina has always been a clever girl," Mom continued. "When she's feeling fine, she's mischievous, always making us laugh to put our minds at ease. But when she's really not well, she becomes so quiet, so obedient." "I don't know if you remember, but there was a time she coughed up blood at school. I was terrified. I rushed to the hospital and asked her why on earth she went to school when she was so sick. Do you know what she said?" Tears welled in Mom's eyes as she looked at Ethan. "That child told me she knew her illness was a lot of trouble, that she might even die from it. And if she was going to die, she hoped it would happen somewhere far away, not at home. That way, we wouldn't be so sad, and we wouldn't be afraid to come home..." A sob escaped her. "Such a silly child," she whispered, "talking about herself like a little stray kitten nobody wanted." I hovered in the air, wishing I could hug my mother, to wipe away her tears. But I couldn't. I really had died far from home. Just like a little stray kitten. As much as I disliked Mindy, I couldn't help but envy her. She had such wonderful birth parents, such a wonderful brother. Even her adoptive mother cared for her so deeply, willing to risk prison just to secure her future. Ethan was silent for a long time, the muscle in his jaw twitching. "She took the bus downtown," he said, his face grim. "She must have been coming to me for money." Mom looked at him, astonished. "How could that be? Lina didn't take the bank card or any of the jewelry we gave her when she left. Why would she come back to ask you for money?" A flicker of doubt crossed Ethan's eyes, but his voice remained cold. "Her birth mother's hospital fees ran out. They were about to stop her treatment." "That's because she's being transferred to a better facility, so they didn't renew the payment. Out of consideration for her raising Mindy, we've already prepaid a substantial medical fund for her at the new hospital." The color drained from Ethan's face. "Is that true?" "It's true!" Mom said, a faint smile returning. "Quick, call Lina. Ask her where she is. Tell her that Dad and I are waiting for her at home." I looked at my mother's face, feeling a strange mix of fortune and sorrow. My mother was so good. If only I hadn't died... Ethan took out his phone and finally dialed my number. As I listened to the monotonous ringing, I thought numbly, No one's ever going to answer that again. But then, to my utter shock, the call was picked up. 6 The other end of the line was filled with muffled background noise, but no one spoke. "Lina, why didn't you answer my texts?!" Ethan snapped, his patience gone. A soft gasp came from the other side, as if he had startled someone. After a two-second pause, a small, childish voice asked, "Are you the person the Pretty Lady was waiting for?" Ethan was taken aback. He softened his tone. "Who is this?" "I'm Sweetie!" He sighed, exasperated. "Listen carefully," he said, speaking slowly and clearly. "Can you please put the owner of the phone on?" "Umm..." Sweetie sounded hesitant. In a tiny whisper, she confided, "But the Pretty Lady is asleep. She seems really, really tired, so she's been sleeping for a long, long time. Mommy says good kids don't wake people up when they're sleeping." An involuntary, frustrated smile tugged at Ethan's lips. "Alright," he said, his voice low. "When she wakes up, tell her to stay right where she is. I'm coming to get her." "Who are you?" Sweetie asked. "Are you the one she was waiting for?" "Yes," Ethan confirmed. "Nuh-uh," the little girl said doubtfully. "The Pretty Lady said she was waiting for her brother. She said her brother is super nice and treats her the best, and that he's the best brother in the whole world." She added in a smaller voice, "But... you were really mean just now." You don't sound like the person she described at all. Ethan froze. A beat passed. "I'm sorry," he said. After he hung up, Mom chided him gently. "You made Lina wait so long she fell asleep?" Ethan's stern mask immediately slipped back on. "She needed to learn a lesson. Otherwise, she'll just keep lying." Mom looked at him, her expression troubled. "Lina has been the apple of your eye since she was a child. Why have you become so strict with her? Is it just because she's not your biological sister?" Ethan didn't answer, only shaking his head. "You're a deep thinker, Ethan," Mom continued. "You're usually so detached. The only people who can make you angry are the ones you truly care about. But Lina is sensitive. Don't break her heart." Was my heart broken? A little, I suppose. When Ethan accused me of faking, of lying, of only being there for money, my throat had seized with a sharp, violent pain. Mom didn't know about my confession to Ethan, so she couldn't understand the real reason for his anger. How could it be because he cared? How could anyone be so cruel to someone they cared about? I still couldn't understand it. As Ethan left the house, the sky opened up and a heavy rain began to fall. The streets were gridlocked. The Audi crawled through the traffic, starting and stopping. Ethan rolled down the window twice to check the situation, restraining the urge to hurry the driver. I sat in the passenger seat, not beside him like I used to, but as a ghost, separate and distant. As we neared the clinic, Ethan took out his phone again. 【Can you walk to the entrance?】 A moment later, he sent another message. 【Never mind. Stay put and wait for me. Don't move.】 By the time the car was parked, he still hadn't received a reply. He got out of the car, his face a thunderous mask. He walked towards the clinic, muttering under his breath, "Lina, you've certainly grown a temper." "Just wait until I—" But the words died on his lips. His gaze locked onto something, and he froze.
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