In my past life, I sacrificed everything for my brother, remaining unmarried to care for him. This time, we’ve both been reborn. His first act upon rebirth was to get rid of me, making way for the fated child swap – the fake heiress. He threw me, still a newborn in swaddling clothes, onto the street. “Don’t blame me for being cruel. You’re the one who caused Serena’s death.” **01** The day I was born, the South was caught in a dreary, rainy season. Julian Blake, the eldest son of the prominent Blake family, took three days off from school. He rushed back to his family estate from his boarding school, still in his crisp uniform. No one knew. That young student, posture ramrod straight, gaze steady. His soul carried the memories of two lifetimes. He had just been reborn, returning with a lifetime of overwhelming regret from his past. He didn’t spare a glance for me, his biological sister. Instead, he secretly paid off the attending nurse, ensuring the child who was meant to be swapped in his past life was legitimately presented to our parents. I was carried out of the hospital by him. Stuffed into a crude cardboard box. He took a bus with me to the city outskirts. And that other baby, crying louder than me in her swaddling clothes. She would claim the Blake family’s bloodline, and in the future, become “Little Sister Serena,” cherished by everyone. Julian’s biggest regret from his previous life. Decades had eroded his life away, causing him to miss the girl who became a flight medic for him. While I, his actual sister, only returned home at eighteen. I never married, willingly studying rehabilitation medicine for him. I pulled him, paralyzed, from his wheelchair. Yet, his heart longed only for the fake heiress I had given up. The Blake family, from a prominent southern state like Texas, was celebrated for their distinguished military service in the past. They were a family honored by the nation, with their heroism featured repeatedly in military publications. This life, he wanted to rewrite everything. No matter the cost. I lay in my swaddling clothes, quietly opening my eyes. This life, I had been reborn too. **02** In my past life, the fake heiress and I were swapped at the hospital. She became the Blake family’s cherished daughter. As for me, I was sent to a working-class family. At three years old, a car accident left me completely alone. I was sent to an orphanage. From then on, I lived in constant anxiety and fear for over a decade. The fake heiress, however, grew up pampered and privileged in the Blake mansion, enjoying every luxury. She became Serena Blake. She was the jewel in the Blake family’s eyes, and the only sister in my brother’s. She went to prestigious schools, learned to dance and play the piano. She studied abroad, earning everyone’s affection. I, on the other hand, was only brought back to the Blake family at eighteen. That year, I wore worn-out canvas shoes and a faded, plain dress from the orphanage. I carried a broken leather suitcase as I stepped through the Blake family estate’s grand gates. I saw my brother standing in the courtyard. His figure tall and straight, clad in his military uniform, silhouetted against the sunlight. But he frowned as he looked at me: “You’re Paisley? Why do you seem so unsophisticated?” My brother was an elite pilot, groomed for leadership by the nation. Serena became an excellent flight medic. In photographs, they stood shoulder to shoulder, their smiles radiant. Until that year, when I visited him at the military base. His plane crashed, and both my brother and Serena were pinned under the aircraft’s wing, waiting for rescue. The doctor anxiously told me: “I’m sorry, we can only save one first.” I hesitated for a second, then said: “Save my brother.” Everyone blamed me, accusing me of causing the fake heiress’s death. But I didn’t regret it. I began to self-study rehabilitation medicine, nursing him day and night. It took me ten years to get my brother out of his wheelchair and help him regain his dignity. I never married, caring for my brother until his twilight years. On his deathbed, his pale hand covered my fingertips. His voice was weak, but every word pierced my heart. “Paisley… I’d rather you saved Serena back then.” I froze on the spot. Like a ton of bricks had slammed into me. So, even until the very end. He never once offered me a single word of thanks. **03** He carried the box for a long way. From the hospital, he took a bus through the old city district. He walked to the most desolate part of town, on the outskirts of East Avenue. Finally, he crouched down at the mouth of an overgrown, dilapidated alleyway. He gazed at me in the box, his face slightly pale, his lips tightly pressed. “Paisley.” He spoke in a low voice, his hand trembling. “Don’t blame me” “Serena, she died so tragically. In our past life, she died because of you… I don’t blame you, but she… she really deserved to live a carefree life.” He placed me in the shadows of the alley mouth. With his small hand, he carefully covered my swaddling clothes. “Someone will surely pass by here. You’ll just be an ordinary person in this life.” He stood up, his eyes a little red, but he stubbornly turned his face away: “Paisley, I only ask that you never reappear in this life.” He left. Without looking back. My consciousness, reborn, had long been awake. But I was powerless to speak. I lay in the shadows. Watching his figure gradually disappear into the distance, my heart was only cold.
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