CHAPTER Is that me? Being burned alive feels exactly how you’d imagine—a scorching, all-consuming agony that burrows into every inch of my body. I should be dead. But I’m not. Not exactly. I hover, weightless, watching the scene unfold beneath me. Watching her. “Our Evelyn is so beautiful. Tomorrow is your birthday party! Mom bought you this dress.” My mother’s voice is soft, affectionate—a voice I never knew she was capable of. She holds up a shimmering dress. I’ve seen that dress before. My sister once boasted that it cost 10,000 dollars—more than my parents make in a month. Yet, they still bought it for her. They always found a way to meet her demands. When the fire left scars on her fingers, they scraped together the money to have them removed. But when I burned? I got nothing. Not a hospital visit. Not a touch of comfort. Not even a second glance. Because in this family, only one daughter mattered. This cramped, two-bedroom apartment was purchased for her. My parents took out a loan to move closer to a better school. One bedroom belonged to them. The other? Hers. I never had one. “Sis, my classmates will laugh at me if they see how small my room is. Why don’t you sleep in the living room instead?” I was twelve. She dragged me to the couch, tossed me a blanket, and slammed the door in my face. I wanted to protest. I wanted to tell my parents. But all they said was, “It’s just the living room. We used to sleep under bridges, and you can’t even handle this?” So, I stopped complaining. I slept on that couch for five years. And in that time, I learned: I was nothing more than a shadow in this house. Once, I was cleaning her room and accidentally brushed against her bed. My mother’s voice had cracked like a whip. “Your hands are filthy! Do you want to dirty my daughter’s bed?” My daughter. Not her daughters. Just one. From that day forward, I never stepped foot in her room again. And yet, standing here, looking down at the family that ignored me in life, I still hoped—stupidly, desperately hoped—that my death would shake them. That they’d grieve me. That they’d miss me. But instead— “Mom, I’m inviting my friends to celebrate my birthday at a restaurant tomorrow!” My parents exchange hesitant glances. I can see the deep lines of exhaustion on their faces, the weight of financial stress. They can’t afford this. They shouldn’t. But then my mother smiles. Soft. Loving. Indulgent. “Of course, Evelyn! Mom won’t forget your birthday. Everything’s set—you’ll be the most beautiful girl there.” The most beautiful girl. Not a single mention of the daughter they just lost. Not a single flicker of sadness. And then— “Damn it, Big Sis had to die at the worst possible time. What bad luck.” Bad luck. Not tragedy. Not grief. Just inconvenience. My chest clenches with something sharp, something suffocating. I was nothing to them. I had always been nothing. When I was little, I believed that even if my mother was unfair, she still loved me. That my father’s beatings, his cruel words—they meant he cared. “Beating is affection. Scolding is love,” he used to say. So, I endured it. I remembered every lesson. I never made the same mistake twice. The neighbors praised me for being such a “sensible child.” And sometimes—just sometimes—my parents would smile. But as I watch my sister now, dry-eyed and unbothered by my death, I finally understand. I was never their daughter. I was never anything. “Big Sis was so capable,” she sighs, voice laced with insincerity. “But she died in the fire.” Then, as if on cue, she forces out a few fake tears. I stare at her perfect, unmarked face. At those cold, soulless eyes. A surge of hatred curls in my gut. I want to reach out. I want to rip them out. ________ CHAPTER
I remember now. I remember everything. I could have escaped that fire. The flames had been closing in, smoke thick in my lungs, but I had a way out. I was almost free. But then I heard my parents’ voices in my head. “Protect your sister, no matter what.” I turned back. I found her—Evelyn—trapped in the blaze, her terrified eyes locked onto mine. I grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the exit, toward safety. We were almost there. Almost free. And then— She ripped herself away. Before I could react, she shoved the door closed and locked it. I pounded against the wood, screaming her name. She didn’t look back. She left me there to die. My sister. The one I had protected since childhood. And now, as I watch her calmly discussing my death over dinner, I wonder— Had she ever loved me at all? Had they? “That dead girl,” my mother says dismissively, scooping soup into my sister’s bowl. “If she were still alive, she could’ve earned at least 3,000 dollars a month. We could’ve used that money to buy you nice clothes.” They weren’t mourning me. They weren’t even sad. I was nothing more than lost income. Something sharp twists inside me. I think back to all the ways they had stolen from me. All the things I had given up, convinced it was my duty as a daughter—as a sister. When I finished middle school, I begged to continue my education. But my parents refused. “You’re stupid anyway,” they said. “And you already repeated a year.” But that wasn’t my fault. They had made me repeat a year so I could stay in the same class as my sister. “She’s still young,” they told me. “We don’t want to leave her alone in elementary school. Stay with her. Protect her.” And like an idiot, I agreed. I let my parents rob me of my future. I let them take away my chance to learn, to grow—to be more than a shadow. We were struggling financially back then. I did everything—tutored my sister, cooked, cleaned, helped with the farmwork. And because of that, my grades slipped. I begged for tutoring. I wanted a chance to catch up. But my parents scoffed. “The school already teaches you everything. If you’re not learning there, why waste money on extra classes?” And yet, when she struggled, they didn’t hesitate. They spent money on her tutoring. Paid for her dance lessons. Sent her to piano classes. She became refined. I remained a simple country girl. But despite it all, I worked hard. I fought for my education. And finally—finally—I became the top student in my class. For once, I thought they’d be proud of me. I held up my award, heart pounding, waiting for their approval. Waiting for them to say, “Well done, sweetheart. We’re proud of you.” Instead, they turned to her. “Don’t worry, darling,” my mother soothed, stroking her hair. “Your sister is only good at studying. But you? You have talents—dance, piano. Your grades will catch up soon.” They dismissed my success like it was nothing. As if being smart—being capable—wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Because no matter what I did—I would never be their daughter. Not like her. __________ CHAPTER
“It’s such a shame your sister died,” my father sighed, pouring himself another drink. “I had already arranged a good marriage for her. We could’ve started preparing for the wedding next month.” “What a waste,” my mother agreed, stirring her soup. “I’ll ask around about a ghost marriage. Maybe we can still make some money off her.” A ghost marriage. They were planning to sell my dead body off to a stranger. Even in death, they still saw me as nothing more than a transaction. The realization settled over me like a thick layer of ice. I was never their daughter. I was currency. And now that I was gone, they were desperate to squeeze every last bit of value out of my corpse. Tomorrow was Evelyn’s birthday party. She slept soundly, curled up in her bed, looking peaceful, unbothered—alive. I sat on the edge of her bed, staring at her. I was no longer human. I didn’t know why I hadn’t disappeared. Maybe it was unfinished business, or maybe it was pure, unfiltered hatred that tethered me here. I wasn’t sure yet. But I had time to figure it out. If nothing else, I could learn how to make her suffer. I reached out, trailing cold fingers over her cheek. She shivered in her sleep. A notification lit up her phone on the bedside table. I glanced at the screen. 【Give money!】 The message was from an unknown number. I frowned. Who was Evelyn supposed to give money to? Was she in debt? Or was she paying someone off? My mind spun with possibilities, but before I could process them, my mother entered the room. She pulled the blanket up over Evelyn’s shoulders, tucking her in with careful hands. A soft, loving gesture. The kind I had never received. I remembered all those nights I slept on the cold, hard sofa, my body trembling from the chill. No one had ever come to cover me with a blanket. I watched her move, hovering near the ceiling, unseen. “Is the air conditioner too low?” she mumbled, rubbing her arms. I smirked. No, Mother. That’s just me. The next morning, I witnessed something I hadn’t seen in years. A real home-cooked breakfast. The table was filled with steaming dishes—both Asian and Western. My mother bustled around the kitchen, her movements fluid, almost graceful. I never knew she could cook like this. When had she learned? Then, it hit me. She had to. Because after I was gone—after I was sent away to work—there was no one left to cook for Evelyn. She must have struggled at first, forcing herself to get better, to take care of her precious youngest daughter. The daughter that mattered. I watched as Evelyn stretched, rubbing sleep from her eyes before skipping over to the kitchen. “Mom, your cooking is delicious!” she beamed. “I love eating the food you make!” My mother smiled warmly, reaching up to smooth her hair. The scene before me was perfect. A cozy home. A warm meal. A loving family. Anyone would envy this life. And for a fleeting moment, I wondered— Was it my fault? Had I been too cold, too quiet, too difficult to love? Had I pushed them away? Had I done something wrong? I thought back to the younger version of myself, desperate for affection. I remembered standing in this very kitchen, eager to help, eager to please. I remembered the way my mother had shoved me aside, irritated. “Don’t bother me! You annoy me just by being here!” That was when I learned the truth. I was only welcome if I was doing something for Evelyn. That was the only way to earn their approval. And even then, it was never enough. I wanted to leave this suffocating house. To get as far away as possible. But whenever I moved more than ten meters from Evelyn— I was pulled right back. Like a leash. Like a curse. Like I still belonged to her. __________ CHAPTER
Evelyn’s birthday party was lively. My parents had gone all out, renting a banquet hall to celebrate. The room glittered with chandeliers, laughter filled the air, and the guests—most of them wealthy and influential—sipped on expensive champagne, smiling as they mingled. I floated through the crowd, unnoticed. Unseen. But I wasn’t surprised. I had spent my entire life like this. From the corner of the room, a familiar face caught my eye. Caleb Martins. He was here. Evelyn’s former classmate. One of the only people who had ever shown me kindness. I remembered the last time he attended one of her birthdays—last year. “Sis, I want a seafood feast for my birthday.” I had spent hours preparing a lavish spread for her, making sure every dish was perfect. But when we went grocery shopping, she wrinkled her nose. “The market’s selection is disgusting. Go to the supermarket instead.” And I had listened. I always listened. Because my father had said, “You’ve been working for years. Can’t you spend a little money to make your sister happy?” That year, I had paid for every single expense. But Evelyn never even acknowledged my efforts. It was Caleb who had noticed. When she cut the cake, she handed him the second slice. But instead of keeping it, he had placed it in my hands. “This should go to the one who worked so hard to make tonight special. Let’s thank her together.” He had been the only person who ever truly saw me. When I was rushing around, drowning in tasks, he had helped. And later, we had exchanged numbers, keeping in touch through quiet messages. But then Evelyn had smashed my phone. “Sis, don’t be ridiculous and try to pursue Caleb!” I never had. But she had already decided I wasn’t worthy of even speaking to someone like him. “You? A middle school dropout talking to someone from a prestigious university? Have some self-awareness!” After she told our parents, they hadn’t hesitated to take her side. “If you want to get married, we’ll find you a rich man. You’ll be set for life.” A week later, my mother dragged me to a blind date. The man was older than my father. I had fled the city after that. I never thought that the next time I returned… I would be nothing but a charred corpse. The shrill ring of a phone cut through the party’s music. “Hello, your daughter’s body—” My father hung up immediately. “What a terrible omen! Today is Evelyn’s birthday, and you’re talking about my daughter’s corpse? Are you cursing her?” The phone rang again. I wanted him to answer. To acknowledge me. But he silenced it once more. My death meant less than a murderer’s birthday. In his eyes, I was already gone. Irrelevant. I hovered near my mother, listening as she sighed. “I feel a chill, dear.” “You must not be wearing enough layers.” She had no idea I was standing inches away, watching her. The phone rang again. This time, she hesitated before picking up. “If you don’t come handle your daughter’s body in River Creek Village, we’ll dispose of it ourselves,” the voice on the other end warned. My mother’s response was instant, her voice detached. “Handle it yourselves. I’m busy.” Then she turned, beaming at Evelyn. I wanted to scream. To grab the phone and beg the person on the other end to bury me. I didn’t want to be cremated. I had already burned once. I didn’t want to go through that agony again. But when I reached for the phone— My hands passed right through it. I was nothing. And yet, they were smiling, laughing, moving on as if I had never existed. “Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend, Caleb Martins!” I turned sharply. Evelyn clung to his arm, her eyes sparkling with feigned innocence. Caleb? Her boyfriend? A strange feeling twisted inside me. I didn’t know what it was— Only that something inside me cracked. I looked down at my hands. They were fading. Then re-forming. What was happening to me? I lifted my gaze, watching my parents glow with pride. The same parents who once shamed me for even talking to him. “You? A toad trying to eat swan meat?” But now that Evelyn was with him, they adored the match. “They’re perfect for each other,” my mother gushed. “A match made in heaven.” And then— Caleb looked around, frowning slightly. “But where’s Evelyn’s sister?” For the first time that night— Someone remembered me. _________ CHAPTER
Since my phone had been broken, I had lost contact with Caleb. I never expected him to still remember me. Every year on Evelyn’s birthday, I had been there—either cooking, serving tea, or making sure everything was perfect. I had been so consumed with her celebrations that I had forgotten my own birthday. The only time I had ever celebrated it was when my grandmother was alive. She had cooked me a simple bowl of longevity noodles. That was it. And now, even in death, I was here again. Watching. “Big Sis died in the fire, and it’s so tragic that she’s no longer with us. But today is Evelyn’s birthday, so let’s not dwell on sad things.” Evelyn’s mother had tears in her eyes. Evelyn, ever the doting daughter, handed her a handkerchief, her expression sorrowful. I stared at them in disbelief. I had never seen that woman cry. She was always smiling, always cheerful. So why hadn’t she shed a single tear when I actually died? Not even a pretense of mourning. “Sis always attended my birthday parties, but this year… something unexpected happened.” The mother-daughter duo exchanged sorrowful glances, taking turns dabbing at their tears. It was picture-perfect grief. A textbook display of the deep mother-daughter bond they shared. I had never experienced it. Maybe I had been too dull. Maybe I had never learned how to please my parents like Evelyn did. Maybe that’s why they never loved me. Maybe it was because I didn’t know how to cry. Because if I had, maybe they would have paid attention to me. “The fire was too big,” my father sighed heavily. “We could only save Evelyn. Every night at midnight, I wake up, haunted by the image of Big Sis begging us for help. I’m sorry, Big Sis.” I drifted toward him, my cold, dead gaze locking onto his face. He was the one who slept the most soundly in that house. The one whose lies were always so smooth. If he had truly loved his beloved daughter, maybe he would have been heartbroken to know she was a murderer. But he didn’t care. He just didn’t want people whispering about it. Caleb wore a forced smile as he listened, pretending to be saddened by my death while also comforting my so-called grieving family. I clenched my fists, but my fingers simply passed through my dress like mist. A waiter rolled out a towering three-tiered cake, and the mood instantly shifted. Evelyn was radiant, standing in the center of her admirers. Beautiful. Elegant. Graceful. She basked in their praise like it was oxygen, her lips curling in satisfaction. I had seen this scene too many times before. From childhood to adulthood, she had always craved admiration. Always loved being flattered. I had learned early on that if I wanted to avoid a beating, all I had to do was praise her in front of my parents. They would get so distracted with their perfect daughter that they’d forget about me completely. Evelyn took the first slice of cake and held out the second piece to Caleb. But before he could take it, he turned to her with an unreadable expression. “This one should go to your sister.” The room stilled for a fraction of a second. Evelyn’s hand tightened around the cake server. Her perfect smile wavered. Then, in an instant, it was gone. “I’ll give you this first slice instead,” she said sweetly, pressing the fork into his hands. She had always liked being first. And now, she had decided he belonged to her, too. As guests enjoyed their cake, her friends continued to fawn over her. “Evelyn, if it weren’t for you, I’d never have gotten to eat at such an expensive restaurant.” “Evelyn, your family is so rich. Your parents and sister spoil you so much! This birthday party is amazing! And your boyfriend is so handsome!” Evelyn smiled, her tone light. “Yes, my sister was always good to me. Whatever I wanted, she gave it to me.” But her eyes gleamed with something else. Mockery. Yes. Whatever you wanted, I gave it to you. You even took my life. The room’s atmosphere shattered when the doors swung open. A police officer strode inside, his uniform crisp, his badge gleaming. “Evelyn Brooks,” he announced, his voice steady, “you are under investigation for murder. Please come with us.” The party froze.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295847”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #魔幻Magic #重生Reborn #校园School #惊悚Thriller
Leave a Reply