The Diagnosis That Changed Everything

I stood in the supermarket and bought five full boxes of Coke. That should be enough for Zac to drink to his heart's content.

Ever since he was little, Zac had been obsessed with sugary drinks. Now he wouldn't touch a single drop of plain water—he only drank anything with flavor.

My brother, Keith, had tried to correct the habit once, but Zac would rather die of thirst than drink water.

My mother nearly fainted from the distress. She bought several cases of drinks and stocked them at home so Zac could have as much as he wanted.

He'd been drinking like that for more than ten years. It would've been a miracle if he didn't end up with kidney failure.

When I carried the Coke home, Zac burst into a grin and started chugging immediately.

That evening, during dinner, I casually mentioned that I planned to get a physical checkup.

My sister‑in‑law, Kathy Bennet, rolled her eyes and said sarcastically, "You're really rich, huh? Unlike me—I still haven't scraped together Zac's tutoring fees."

I pretended not to hear the implication. "Nothing matters more than health. Honestly, our whole family should get checked."

I knew my body better than anyone. I wasn't sick at all. The checkup was just a pretext—something to mislead them.

Zac's condition could be discovered at any time. As long as I stayed in this house, I risked repeating the same fate as in my last life.

This time, I had to get far, far away. Far enough that none of them could ever find me.

I found a uremia diagnosis report online, edited the name to my own, and sent it straight to the family group chat.

On my way home, I added a few drops of eyedrops to the corners of my eyes before stepping through the front door.

All three of them were on the couch, discussing something in low voices. When they saw me, my mother came forward, her expression unusually serious.

For a moment, I almost thought she was genuinely worried about me.

But her next words shattered that illusion.

"I asked the doctor. This illness is a bottomless pit. You'll need dialysis for the rest of your life. Staying alive will only bring you suffering. Maybe… it's better not to drag it out.

"Zac is still a minor. When he grows up, he'll need money for college and marriage—everything costs money. Your brother and I can't help you. You'll have to figure something out yourself."

Kathy stepped closer, the corner of her mouth lifting in schadenfreude.

"You shouldn't have gotten that health checkup, Sonya. See, now they found something wrong with you. Zac is still young. You should move out as soon as possible. Don't pass your… bad luck on to him."

The three of them kept firing off excuses—anything to avoid taking responsibility.

With tears gathering at my eyes, I dropped to my knees with a thud.

"Mom, the doctor said my condition can be treated. I just need a kidney transplant. It's easiest to match with family. Maybe you and Keith can get tested. And if not… Zac's kidney could work too."

The words had barely left my mouth when a sharp slap landed on my cheek.

"Wretch! How can you be so vicious? Zac is still a child, and you dare target him?"

Kathy glared at me as if she wanted to tear me apart.

Holding my cheek, I cried, "He can live with one kidney. If he gives me one, he'll be like a son to me. I'll take care of him for the rest of my life. When I die, everything I have will belong to him."

"You think I'm stupid? How many more years do you think you have left? When you die, your money goes to my son anyway!" Kathy spat.

I turned to look at my brother. "Keith, please… I don't want to die. Just go to the hospital for a matching test. It might not even be compatible."

Before he could respond, my mother stepped in front of him, guarding him like a lioness. "Keith is young and healthy. He can't donate his kidney. What if it harms him?"

To them, I was only dying. But Keith losing a kidney? That was unacceptable.

Clutching my chest, I sobbed, "Mom… I'm your daughter too! How can you stand there and watch me die?"

"This is your fate. If you die, then you die. I still have a son. I gave birth to you—that alone should make you grateful."

I pushed myself up from the floor and stared at the three of them. "Fine. If your hearts are that cold, then every one of you will face the consequences."

Then I flipped the table with a roar, grabbed a chair, and smashed everything within reach. My strength was nothing like that of a dying patient—it came from years of buried rage.

The three of them froze, afraid to stop me while I still had something in my hands. They could only curse from a distance.

When the house had finally turned into a wreck, the suffocating weight inside my chest finally loosened.

Without looking back, I walked out and left the house behind me.