Parents’ Regret After I Died for My Sister

I was dead.

But my soul was still trapped here.

Mom and Dad finally came home with Iris.

She was pale, and Dad carried her gently up to her room.

Mom saw the broken cake on the floor, candles still stuck in it, going sour. Something flickered across her face that looked like guilt.

“Did we say too much to Elena? She's still a kid.”

“Locking her up, ignoring her calls.”

Dad put an arm around her shoulder. “She's not a baby anymore. She needs to learn. But I think she's probably figured it out by now. If she apologizes, I'll give her the egg tarts she likes.”

Mom nodded. “Yeah. Elena's always been easy to win over.”

But when Dad knocked, there was no response.

I stood next to him. His eyes were red.

He probably hadn't slept all night.

That was how they used to be when I was sick.

“Dad, come in and talk to me. I can still hear you.”

Mom looked stricken.

“She's still upset with us.”

She tapped the door lightly.

“Elena? It's Mom. You won't even open up for me?”

Dad worked so much that Mom had always done most of the looking-after, and I used to tell her everything.

She sighed.

“Elena, I know your birthday matters to you, but Iris matters more, doesn't she?”

“It's just one day late.”

“We have a big surprise to make it up to you.”

“But I can't have a birthday with you anymore.”

Dad chimed in. “Once you turn twelve, you'll be all better.”

“You just need to be a good girl, and then you get the surprise.”

“Just apologize, Elena.”

There was still no response.

Dad's expression was getting tight, and Mom knocked again, more gently this time.

“Dad took the day off tomorrow, and next month we're going on a family trip.”

“Don't make Dad angry, okay?”

“We're going to Tanzania to see the great migration. You always sit glued to the TV whenever it comes on.”

I wanted to cry.

But souls didn't have tears.

I'd never told her any of that, but she'd known the whole time.

I didn't want to make Dad angry.

I'd already walked into the storage room by myself.

I just couldn't speak to them anymore.

I went over and tried to wrap my arms around her, but my arms passed straight through her, and I lowered my head.

“You don't need to make it up to me.”

“You won't get the chance to.”

When there was no answer, Mom started to lose patience.

“Why are you throwing a fit over something so small?”

Her voice was exhausted. “Elena, when are you going to grow up? Your father and I are so tired.”

“I'm sorry, Mom. I made you sad again.”

I said it softly.

But they couldn't hear me.

Mom grabbed Dad's hand. “Forget it. Just leave her alone.”

“Let's give Iris the egg tarts.”

I leaned over to look at them.

The egg tarts were still warm.

What a waste.

The doorbell rang.

It was Grandma at the door.

She'd aged so much in just a year. Her hair was completely white now, and her back was bent.

“Where's Elena?” She glanced around with her brow furrowed.

I'd always been the first one to run to the door when she came over.

I crouched in front of her, the way I used to. “Grandma, I'm right here.”

She looked up the stairs, confused.

But she couldn't hear a thing.