My sister was back in the hospital. This time, because I opened a window to let in some fresh air. Mom yelled at me outside her room: “We never should’ve brought you back! Your grandma didn’t teach you right, coming back just to bully your sister! If Chloe gets sick, you won’t live either!” Deep in the night, the house fell silent. A man dressed in black appeared, phasing right through the wall, heading straight for my sister’s bed. “Chloe Johnson, it’s your time. Come with me.” Chloe was sound asleep, but I was wide awake. I scrambled up from my spot on the floor, blocking his path to her bed. “You’ve got the wrong person. The one in bed is my older sister. I’m Chloe Johnson.” I glanced back at Mom, who was still asleep, a frown etched on her face even in her dreams. Maybe she’d be happier without me. I looked at the man in black. “I’ll go with you. But can you give me three days? I want to celebrate Mom’s birthday.” The man in black paused. “You’re willing to die in your sister’s place?” I didn’t hesitate, nodding hard. I looked back at Chloe in the hospital bed. Her face looked a little rosier, and even in her sleep, a faint smile touched her lips. Mom had told her three fairy tales before bedtime. As for me, I was curled up on the cold floor, not even daring to pull a corner of the blanket closer. “I’m willing. Anything to stop Mom from crying. Just three days. I just want to celebrate Mom’s birthday.” The man in black was silent for a long time before he spoke: “I agree.” With that, his figure vanished into the wall. I touched my wrist. A faint purple mark glowed there, slowly burning. This was my life’s countdown. I should have been terrified. But for some reason, a sudden sense of peace washed over me. Grandma Evelyn used to say that when people die, they turn into stars, watching over the ones they love most. If I became a star, would I finally see Mom smile at me? Just once would be enough. The sky was just beginning to lighten when a violent cough woke me up. I tried to get up, but my head spun, my vision blurred, and my forehead was burning hot. “What’s with all the coughing?” Mom stood over me, draped in her jacket, her face etched with irritation. “If you wake Chloe, I swear I’ll tear your mouth off!” Terrified, I clapped my hand over my mouth, forcing down the remaining coughs. Tears stung my eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” Mom scoffed, her eyes full of disgust. “Get up already! Chloe will be awake soon and she’ll want pumpkin soup. Go make it now.” She turned and sat back by the hospital bed, her movements becoming incredibly gentle as she dabbed Chloe’s forehead with a wet cloth. I pushed myself up from the floor, swaying unsteadily. My knees ached like they were being pricked with needles from kneeling so long last night. I didn’t dare say I had a fever too. Last time I said my head hurt, Mom said I was faking it to avoid chores. If I said it again, she’d definitely get even angrier. I patted my pocket. There was a small, heavy coin bank inside. I’d been saving coins for a whole year since I came back from Grandma Evelyn’s, planning to buy a new backpack. My current backpack strap was broken, held together with a safety pin, and the kids at school always made fun of me. But it didn’t matter now. I wouldn’t need a backpack anymore anyway. I was going to use that money to buy Mom a birthday cake. Before, whenever Mom had a birthday, it was always Chloe who cut the cake, and the wishes were always for Chloe. I wanted Mom to make a wish for me too. Even if it was just an afterthought. Clutching the coin bank, I slowly shuffled out of the room. The hospital hallway felt so cold, chilling me to the bone. But as I looked at the purple mark on my wrist, a faint smile tugged at my lips. Three more days. I had to make them count.
Hospital elevators always took forever. Fearing the soup would get cold, I ran up the stairs instead. Nineteen floors. On each landing, I had to stop and gasp for breath, my lungs burning. Pushing open the door to the room, Dad was already there. He held a pink bag with the logo of the latest tablet on it. Chloe was propped up in bed, giggling uncontrollably, clutching the tablet. “Thank you, Dad! I love you the most!” Dad’s face was full of doting affection as he gently booped her nose. “As long as Chloe’s happy, and she gets well faster, it’s worth whatever I buy.” Mom was applying hand cream nearby. A warm, comforting scent filled the room – the smell of home. Only I felt out of place. I stood there awkwardly, clutching the now slightly cool soup. “You’re back?” Dad glanced at me, his smile fading a bit. He casually pulled a stale roll from a bag at his feet and tossed it to me. “Haven’t eaten yet, have you?” The roll was hard, hitting my chest with a dull thud that stung. I looked down. It was the cheapest kind, with a bright yellow discount label on the packaging. Close-to-expiration discount. On Chloe’s bedside table, there was exquisite Tiramisu and imported milk. Chloe and I were twins. She’d been frail since birth, so it was always taken for granted that all the family’s resources went to her first. Including Mom and Dad’s love. “Thanks, Dad.” I whispered, bending down to pick up the roll. It was good enough to have food to eat. Grandma Evelyn always said to be grateful for what you have. “Dad.” Chloe suddenly put down her tablet and pouted. “I want a cake from that bakery down the street. My mouth feels bitter.” Outside, the sky was dark and gloomy, and rain was pouring down. Dad looked out the window, a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “Chloe, it’s raining too hard. What if we wait until it stops?” Chloe’s eyes immediately welled up. “No way! I want it now! *cough, cough, cough*…” The moment she coughed, everyone panicked. Mom quickly patted her back, and Dad paced nervously. “Okay, okay, okay! Eat, eat, eat! Dad will go buy it right now!” Dad reached for an umbrella, but his gaze fell on me in the corner, and he froze. “Lily.” Dad called my name. “Your sister wants cake. Go buy it.” “Your mom and I need to stay with Chloe. You’re young and fast, a quick run won’t hurt.” I froze for a moment, wanting to say I wasn’t feeling well, wanting to say the rain was too heavy. But seeing the look in Dad’s eyes, all my words caught in my throat. “Okay.” I set down the roll I’d just bitten into and walked out into the rain. I didn’t have an umbrella. The only umbrella was by the door, but Dad hadn’t told me to take it. And I didn’t dare. The rain lashed down, making my head spin even more, the ground swaying beneath my feet. But I couldn’t stop. I was afraid the bakery would close, afraid Mom would scold me for being useless. The bakery down the street was three blocks from the hospital. The water was above my ankles, my shoes filled with muddy water. When I bought the cake, the owner, Mrs. Thompson, looked at me like I was crazy. “Little girl, no umbrella in this heavy rain? Where are your parents?” I forced a smile, but said nothing. I clutched the cake to my chest, shielding it from the rain with my body. On the way back, I ran too fast. I slipped in a puddle, my knee hitting the pavement hard. I anxiously checked the cake in my arms. Thankfully, the paper bag wasn’t torn, and the cake was fine. I breathed a sigh of relief, limping my way back. When I returned to the room, I was dripping wet. “What took you so long!” Mom hissed, keeping her voice low. “Walking so loudly! Chloe just fell asleep!” My hands, holding the cake, froze mid-air. Dad sat on the sofa, scrolling on his phone, not even looking at me. “Put it on the table. You’re soaking wet. Go dry off, don’t get Chloe sick.” No one saw my bleeding knee. No one asked if I was cold. I quietly left the room, huddling on a chair in the hallway, staring at the cake abandoned on the table. Chloe wouldn’t eat it when she woke up. The thing I’d risked my life to get would probably end up in the trash. Late at night, I looked at the mark on my wrist. A third of it was already burned away.
The third day was Mom’s birthday. My fever had gone down a bit, but my head still swam. The purple mark on my wrist was just a tiny sliver now. I went to the nurse’s station, pleading for a long time before Nurse Jenkins finally agreed to let me use the small staff kitchen for an hour. “Little girl, you look so pale, you should rest.” Nurse Jenkins gently touched my head, her eyes full of concern. I flinched away. I wasn’t used to anyone’s touch, even a kind one. “Thank you, Nurse. I want to cook Mom a meal.” “It’s her birthday today.” With all my remaining change, I bought groceries at the market. All Mom’s favorites. Grandma Evelyn taught me that the way to a person’s heart is through their stomach. I couldn’t win Mom’s heart. But I still wanted to try. The cooking smoke in the kitchen made me cough, and my hands trembled so much while chopping, I almost cut my fingers. But I cooked with extra care. Every step was meticulous. After the meal was ready, I packed the dishes into insulated containers and carried them back to the room. As I walked in, I saw Chloe leaning over the edge of the bed, trying to reach a water glass on the table. I quickly put down the containers. “Don’t move. I’ll pour it for you.” I carefully handed her the hot water. Weak from her illness, her fingers went limp, and she couldn’t hold it steady. “Ow!” The scalding hot water spilled, splashing all over my foot. Before I could even cry out, Chloe screamed first. “It’s hot! It’s so hot!” She instinctively clutched her hand, tears streaming down her face, even though not a single drop of hot water had splashed on her. This fragile, pitiful act was her most practiced weapon since childhood. The room door was suddenly flung open. “What happened?” Dad rushed in, saw Chloe crying, and the shattered ceramic pieces on the floor. Without thinking, he turned and gave me a powerful shove. “Your sister is already so sick, and you’re making her do chores?” The push was so forceful that I stumbled backward, falling heavily onto the scattered ceramic shards. A sharp, piercing pain shot through my palm, and blood gushed out, mixing with the hot water on the floor, a horrifying sight. “No, it’s not…” I opened my mouth, trying to explain. Chloe herself hadn’t held it steady, she asked me to pour the water. I hadn’t meant to burn her. But my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton, unable to form a complete sound. Grandma Evelyn used to say, explaining is talking back. Kids who talk back aren’t loved. I looked at Dad’s furious red eyes, watched him carefully cup Chloe’s uninjured hand and blow on it. Something inside me shattered completely. “I’m sorry.” I lowered my head, my tears splattering into the pool of blood. “I didn’t hold it steady. It was my fault.” If I just admitted fault, this storm would pass, right? If I didn’t argue, Mom’s birthday wouldn’t be ruined, right? Sure enough, hearing me admit fault, Dad’s anger subsided slightly. “Get out of the way, don’t be an eyesore!” Enduring the sharp pain in my hand, I quietly got up and carefully picked up every piece of the shattered ceramic. Then I brought out the insulated containers. “Mom, these are the dishes I made. Happy Birthday.” Mom had just walked in. Seeing the scene, she frowned. But upon seeing the table full of dishes, her expression softened a bit. She didn’t scold me. During dinner, Chloe kept chattering to Mom. I sat in the corner, eating my cold, plain rice. Suddenly, a pork chop landed in my bowl. Mom had put it there. “Alright, stop looking so gloomy.” “It’s a good day today, you eat more too.” “This pork chop is pretty good, it reminds me of your Grandma Evelyn’s cooking.” Tears instantly streamed down my face. It was the first time Mom had ever praised me. I put the pork chop in my mouth. It was so salty, tasting entirely of tears. But I chewed it carefully, not even wanting to spit out the bone. This was probably the best thing I had ever eaten in my life. And it would be the last.
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