The Kidney That Never Came

When I got back to the room, Stella was staring out the window, silent.

She was six, but years of being sick made her look way younger.

The door clicked. She turned, tried to smile. "Daddy..."

I broke. Took her hand. "Stella, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry... This is all my fault."

I hated myself—hated how useless I was.

All I ever did was watch her suffer.

I was her dad. I was supposed to keep her safe.

She reached up and brushed my tears away, her voice barely a whisper. "Daddy, I heard the doctor. The kidney went to someone else."

I held her and fell apart. "I'm useless. I couldn't protect you."

She shook her head, weak but stubborn. "Daddy, I don't blame you. You've been trying so hard these six months. Don't cry. I don't hurt..."

She was lying.

She was drenched in cold sweat. Couldn't sleep. Couldn't rest.

Six years old, and she'd been fighting this for three of them.

And still, with almost nothing left, she was trying to comfort me.

Then—

The machine beside her screamed.

Doctors rushed in. Nurses followed. No time for the operating room. They started right there, hands moving fast, voices sharp.

I'd seen this before. Too many times.

But this time, Stella didn't come back.

The doctor met my eyes and slowly shook his head.

Everyone left.

I drifted to the bed and held Stella's fingers as they went cold in mine.

"Stella, don't leave me. Please. Open your eyes. Look at me. I'm begging you. Don't leave me."

The nurses turned away. Someone sniffed. The room felt hollow.

"We did everything we could... Your daughter still had a chance. If that kidney had gone to Stella, maybe—"

He stopped.

He didn't have to say the rest.

I already knew.

If that kidney had gone to Stella, she'd still be here.

But Kylie cut off her only shot.

And just earlier, she told Stella to stop being dramatic... told her to die.

She could ignore me. Trash my name all she wanted.

But Stella?

How could she do that to her own daughter?

To Stella, Kylie was everything. Her hero.

Even when Kylie barely showed up, Stella never complained.

She'd sit alone on her birthdays, clutching a photo, whispering excuses.

"Mommy's not ignoring me. She's just really busy... Mommy saves lives. She's an angel. I'm proud of her."

Over the past six months, Stella cried more than once, saying she missed her mom.

I called Kylie, asked her to visit.

She always had some excuse.

Half a year. Not one step into the ward.

Now Stella was gone, full of wishes that never came true.

How could Kylie do that?

It shredded something inside me.

I couldn't take it anymore. Pulled out my phone. Called her.

She kept hanging up.

That sick feeling hit hard.

I turned to the doctor.

"What floor is Evan Reaver's room on?"