My Family's Regret After I Disappeared at Sea

I didn't know when it began, but my parents gradually devoted more and more attention to Ava until my presence became nothing more than an afterthought. She would sit on the couch with my mother, watching TV and whispering about trivial things while I sat alone in my room. She would go fishing and play golf with my father, laughing in a way he never did with me.

My parents used to bring back my favorite desserts when they returned from work, but now, all I received were cold leftovers and empty pleasantries. The so-called debt of gratitude had twisted into something unrecognizable.

A hollow laugh escaped my lips. "Cassius, let's break off our engagement."

His head snapped toward me, disbelief flashing across his face. "What nonsense are you spouting?"

If I hadn't already seen the truth with my own eyes, I might have mistaken his reaction for genuine shock—perhaps even concern. But I knew better.

"You don't even want our baby. What's the point of this engagement? Consider this break off my blessing to you and Ava." I closed my eyes, pressing a trembling hand against my stomach.

Cassius let out a short, humorless laugh. "Don't think I don't see through you—you just want an excuse to be with Troy, don't you?"

His hands were clenched into tight fists, barely restraining his anger. My chest ached, but I refused to let myself crumble in front of him.

When we first got engaged, he had been ecstatic, treating me like the most precious thing in the world. When he tossed our engagement ring to a beggar on the street, faking amnesia, I never considered ending things. But now, it was painfully clear—it had all been a cruel joke from the start.

He took a step closer, his gaze piercing through me. "Sienna, you and Troy—"

"Cassius! Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be with Ava?"

My older brother's voice cut through the air, sharp and impatient. He strode into the room, his eyes barely sparing me a glance before settling on Cassius. His expression darkened as his gaze flickered to my pale face.

"Sienna, you should be grateful. Donating your kidney to Ava will finally make you two real sisters," Michael, my brother, said, his tone condescending.

A bitter taste coated my tongue. "Real sisters?" I whispered, more to myself than to him.

Michael's expression twisted with irritation at my silence. With a scoff, he grabbed Cassius's wrist and turned to leave. "What did I do to deserve a sister like you? You're disgusting."

I stared blankly at his retreating figure. The words echoed in my head, clashing against a memory from years ago—his voice, warm and gentle, saying, "I have such a lovely sister. I'll protect you for the rest of my life."

Now, those same lips uttered nothing but contempt. The ache in my chest deepened, spreading like an infection through my veins.

When Ava first arrived, Michael seemed to hate her even more than I did. He had thrown her luggage out when our parents weren't home, tricked her into wandering the mountains alone and made her walk all night to find her way back. He had been scolded harshly for it, punished by our parents.

"I don't hate you. I'm just protecting Sienna. I have no choice but to bully you."

It was late one night when I overheard my brother speaking to Ava. I had only gotten up for a glass of water, but the sound of hushed voices from the dimly lit hallway made me stop in my tracks.

Michael's tone was casual, almost indifferent. Ava, on the other hand, stood with quiet grace, her posture composed. Then, without warning, she leaned in close and whispered something in his ear.

Her voice was soft, almost tender, but I still heard it.

"I won't compete with Sienna, because I like you. I will cherish everything you love."

A chill ran down my spine. It was the first time I had ever felt disgust toward Ava.

But before I could even process that feeling, the world turned against me.

The very next day, Ava drank almond milk and suffered a severe allergic reaction, one so extreme that she nearly lost her life. I had no idea where the milk had come from. I didn't even know Ava had an allergy that severe. And yet, when my brother turned to me, his eyes burned with unmistakable resentment.

Michael didn't ask. He didn't hesitate. He simply looked at me as if I were a stranger and condemned me without a second thought.

Our parents demanded answers, but instead of speaking up, he took the blame upon himself. The injustice of it all was suffocating.

"Sienna, you already have everything. Why do you still have to be so petty with an orphan?" my father scoffed, his voice filled with disappointment.