Chapter 3

The vibrant colors of the fireworks reflected off the glass, highlighting my ghost-white face.

Slowly, my fingers uncurled.

The curtain fell back into place, sealing out the world.

How beautiful they looked.

The fireworks. And the two of them.

The next morning, the smart blinds slid open on schedule.

Sunlight stung my eyelids, and I realized I had passed out on the hardwood floor all night. Clenching my teeth, I forced my battered body up and checked the calendar on the nightstand.

A bright red circle marked today's date.

It was Chloe’s birthday.

Every year, our parents would fly back from their overseas business trips just to host a lavish family dinner for her.

A lump of bitter grief rose in my throat, but I forced it down.

I ran back into the bathroom, vomiting mouthfuls of dark blood. I stared into the basin, dazed.

It seemed... I wouldn't even last a month.

In the mirror, my skin was gray, my eyes sunken with dark circles, looking like a walking corpse.

I put on a heavy layer of makeup and went downstairs.

Maria, the housekeeper, looked at me with concern.

"Clara, you look so pale..."

I squeezed out a smile, my voice raspy and cracked.

"I’m fine. It’s Chloe’s birthday today. Every year I make her sweet fruit soup, and I want to do it again this year."

Back when I was first brought home, my parents hated me, my peers bullied me, and I was so broke I couldn't even afford a bouquet of flowers. All I could do was scrounge up leftovers from the pantry and make a simple bowl of warm sweet soup for Chloe.

Yet Chloe never looked down on it.

She had proudly carried that cheap, humble bowl to the center of the lavish banquet table, announcing to everyone with a bright grin:

"This is the best thing I've ever tasted! My sister made it just for me!"

"Chloe, I really don't want to die."

"I wanted to make this soup for you for the rest of our lives."

"I wanted to be your big sister forever."

I poured every ounce of my remaining focus into watching the pot simmer gently on the stove.

Just as it was almost done, a violent spike of vertigo struck me. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs, suffocating me.

Desperate, I twisted open my pill bottle.

Darkness flashed across my vision, and my body tilted forward, out of control.

"Clatter!"

I knocked over the sugar jar, shattering it on the counter. Maria rushed in.

"Are you alright?!"

"I’m fine... just stood up too fast," I wheezed. "The soup is ready. Could you turn off the burner and ladle it into a bowl for me?"

I secretly squeezed the remaining pills in my fist.

I was too weak. Too dizzy.

I never noticed that a single pill had slipped from my trembling fingers...

And melted right into the boiling soup.

I was an idiot.

I slept until the evening, finally woken up by laughter drifting from the living room.

Everyone was there.

Mom, Dad, Chloe, and Julian were sitting around the couch, chatting and laughing warmly.

My appearance instantly froze the room.

Mom glared at me, her tone dripping with disdain.

"You knew today was Chloe’s birthday, yet you stayed locked up in your room sleeping until dinner? Where are your manners?"

Dad chimed in, his brow furrowed in disgust.

"All that money we spent sending you to private school was a complete waste. Not an ounce of class."

I lowered my eyes, digging my nails into my palms.

I took the familiar berating in silence.

Chloe immediately jumped up, hurrying over to link her arm through mine, defending me fiercely.

"Mom, Dad, stop! Clara was feeling sick, that’s why she slept in. Clara, are you feeling better? Come sit next to me!"

Her arm was warm.

But my body was freezing cold. I was afraid my chill would freeze her, so I quietly slipped my arm from her grasp.

"I’m much better," I said softly.

The conversation quickly shifted back to her.

I sat in the corner, watching my parents excitedly shower Chloe with luxury jewelry and designer bags they had brought back from Paris. Julian sat beside her, smiling gently, his eyes never leaving her face.

I felt like a sewer rat peeking in on someone else’s fairy tale.

Halfway through, Chloe seemed to notice my silence. Thinking I was upset from Mom and Dad’s scolding, she playfully shook my sleeve.

"Alright, enough presents! The gift I've been waiting for all year isn't here yet! Clara, where’s my soup?"

"I saved room in my stomach just for it!"

My heart softened completely.

I turned to Maria, who was waiting nearby.

"It’s ready. Could you bring it out, please?"

A bowl of warm, steaming soup was placed before Chloe.

She scooped up a spoonful and swallowed it with a delighted hum.

Then, just seconds later—

Her smile froze.

She looked at me, her eyes wide with shock and confusion. Her spoon slipped from her fingers, clattering loudly against the porcelain bowl before hitting the floor.

"Chloe?" Julian was the first to react.

In the next breath, Chloe grabbed her stomach, screaming in agony. Her body seized violently, convulsing on the sofa as white foam bubbled uncontrollably from her mouth!

"Chloe!"

"My baby, what’s happening to you?!"

Mom and Dad shrieked in horror, and Julian’s terrified shouts tore through the room as everything descended into utter chaos.

I stood frozen, staring at Chloe’s twisted, agonizing convulsions.

A sudden memory hit me like a bullet—the side effects of my heavy-duty, late-stage cancer painkillers:

"Severe muscle spasms. Seizures. Coma."

It was me...

"The pill fell into the soup?!"