The Remorse That Cracked a Family

Just then, my best friend, Michelle Sullivan, texted me.

"I got the footage from the rescue helicopter. It clearly shows your sister was faking her dizziness. Plus, her hospital records show she's perfectly fine."

The video and files came through a few minutes later. Seeing Emma sticking out her tongue in the video and reading her clean bill of health, I smiled.

I replied to Michelle, "Send this to my family after I'm dead."

Two days before I died, I donated a kidney to Emma and a cornea to Daria.

When I woke up after surgery, I saw my sister in a hospital gown, half-reclining on the bed. My parents and Leon were gathered around her while she cooed about wanting food from that fancy downtown restaurant.

The scene looked warm and perfect, like a family portrait. And there I was, someone who didn't belong.

The moment Emma noticed I was awake, a flash of triumph and defiance lit her eyes. She said sweetly, "Sarah, thank you for the assets. I'll make good use of them."

Leon took out the remaining documents along with the bank cards and placed them on her bedside table. "She also gave you the house and savings."

As soon as he said that, the room went completely silent.

Dad was the first to react. He hurried over and patted my shoulder, excitement and relief written all over his face. "Now you're finally acting like a big sister and looking out for Emi."

Mom tearfully took Emma's hand. "This is wonderful. Now you and Leon can live a good life together."

Leon pulled Emma closer, gazing at her lovingly. "See? Your sister really does care about you."

At that moment, the whole family busied themselves planning Emma and Leon's future. Everyone wore bright smiles that gleamed with happiness.

No one noticed me quietly covering my mouth, or the bright red streak I coughed into my palm when I turned away.

One day.

That was all I had left. I'd given them everything on my second-to-last day alive, and still nobody loved me.

A violent cough made me unsteady. When a metallic taste filled my mouth, I hurriedly covered it with tissues, praying they wouldn't notice.

"Stop coughing so loud. You're bothering Emi while she's trying to rest," Mom said with a frown, clearly annoyed.

I crumpled the tissue into a ball and clutched it tightly in my palm. Then I looked up and asked them softly, "If I died because of this mountain trip, would any of you regret it?"

This was the last sliver of hope I had left—for them and for myself.

Silence hung for a heartbeat, then the room exploded with laughter. They all laughed like I'd just said something hilarious.

Dad laughed the loudest, pointing at me and shaking his head. "You? Die? You're the healthiest person I know. You've never caught a cold in your whole life. Stop talking nonsense."

Leon laughed too, pulling Emma closer and speaking gently. "Quit being so dramatic, Sarah. Emma's health is what we should be worried about."

"That's right, Sarah," Emma said softly, leaning into him. "Please don't say things like that. It frightens me."

I nodded. The last flicker of hope inside me died completely. I stopped looking at them and turned to Daria, who was curled up against Leon's side.

"Daria, could you call me Mom, just once?" I asked.

All these years, I'd put my climbing career first and barely spent time with her. She'd resented me for it ever since and had never called me Mom, not even after I donated my cornea to her.

She ignored me and threw herself into Emma's arms like an excited puppy, then wrapped her arms around Emma's neck.

"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" she squealed. "You're my mommy, not her."

Then, Daria looked back at me with an innocent yet merciless smile. "Bye-bye, Aunt Sarah. Stop bothering Mommy while she's trying to rest."

Leon and my parents beamed as they watched the whole scene unfold.