chapter 2

"Raina, you spend tens of thousands at the hospital every month. That adds up to hundreds of thousands a year. You should think about Seraphina too—she still has her life to live."

"And besides, your illness is incurable. You're just squandering money. You can't be so selfish as to drag the whole family down."

Every word dripped with the implication that I was a burden.

But the system had told me that with just two more years of treatment, I could reclaim my health. I wanted to live, to stay by Seraphina's side.

Summoning my courage, I fought for myself.

"Dad, I need two more years of treatment. If it still..."

If it still didn't work, they could abandon me.

Dad cut me off, slamming his tableware on the table.

"Why are you so inconsiderate? Do you want to drive us into bankruptcy? How could I have such a selfish daughter!"

Mom set down her cup, her tone icy.

"Where did I go wrong raising such an ungrateful child? We've spent a fortune on you for three years—isn't that enough? You can't be too greedy—be careful you end up with nothing in the end."

They stormed off, leaving me alone in the empty dining room.

My heart felt as chaotic as the untouched dinner table.

The next day, I skipped the hospital but refused to give up. I had to find a way to fund my treatment.

It was also Seraphina's birthday. She was born a day after me.

For years, my parents had "been too busy" to celebrate mine, so Seraphina had stopped celebrating hers to keep things "fair."

But that day, she was having a birthday dinner at a restaurant.

Recalling how Seraphina had always prioritized my feelings, I softened.

I'd crafted a surprise for her, all the while harboring a silent hope that she might plead my case with our parents—praying they'd allow me two more years of treatment.

Carrying the custom cake I'd made, I approached the restaurant.

Before pushing the door, I heard her voice through the crack.

"You mean my sister? Hahaha, she's beyond naive.

"If not for her heart, why would I acknowledge her? Does she even deserve the title?"

That sickly sweet voice belonged to Seraphina.

A male voice asked, "You never celebrate your birthday. Why now?"

"Who says I don’t?" She smirked, twirling a strand of hair. "Mom believes it brings ill fortune to celebrate with that fool, so we’ve never observed her birthday. I spared her the humiliation, of course—always marked my own birthday with our parents a day early." She chuckled, "Poor thing’s convinced they’re working overtime each year… in truth, they’ve been out shopping for my presents."

Light spilled from the doorway, blinding me.

"So word on the street is your folks got you a pricey present—how about letting us have a gander?!" someone shouted.

Seraphina’s voice trailed off for a moment, then she spoke with a hint of flaunting, "This necklace—Mom and Dad bought it. Guess the price?"

Amid the cheers, her voice sliced through the air.

"200,000 dollars!"

I gasped.

They’d lavished my sister with a 200,000 dollars necklace without a moment’s hesitation, all the while incessantly protesting they couldn’t scrounge together the paltry tens of thousands for my treatment.

The cost of that necklace would’ve been ample to fund six months’ worth of my care.

"I mentioned liking it once, and Mom bought it on the spot," she bragged, flaunting their favoritism.

From childhood, Seraphina had been the apple of their eyes.

New clothes and jewelry went straight to her room; cast-offs were donated, never to me.

My parents always said I had been born to bring misfortune to the family, claiming that even in the womb, I had "cursed" Seraphina—thus she was born with a heart condition, unable to run or jump, and even the slightest emotional upheaval could send her into a faint.

During that period, I was constantly beaten because they believed Seraphina was taking the brunt of their misfortunes.

I was forbidden from approaching any of them. My room was tiny, while Seraphina's was bright and spacious, as beautiful as a palace.

Anything I had, Seraphina had better.

Anything I lacked, Seraphina had in abundance.

The love Seraphina basked in remained forever elusive throughout my wretched days.

In the three years following my heart transplant, my parents ostensibly catered to my every whim.

Though I never matched Seraphina’s erstwhile privileges, I felt strangely satiated within—perhaps too naively.

They lavished me with affection that bordered on ostentation—so much so that Seraphina was cast aside like an old keepsake.