They Stole My Heart for Her

One's body is the only thing that truly belongs to oneself. Or so I used to believe.

Two weeks later, Nina and I were discharged on the same day. I was wheeled out, confined to a chair, while Nina—who had supposedly needed a wheelchair daily before—was now running and skipping like a child.

The moment the nurse pushed me toward the Lambert car, Nina stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

"Serena."

She pointed inside the vehicle, pouting in feigned innocence.

"Since I'm all better now, Dad had that ugly disability seat removed. Sorry, but there's no room for your wheelchair anymore."

I looked past her. Sure enough, the custom interior Father had once spent a fortune importing—specifically designed to accommodate a wheelchair—was gone. In its place was plush upholstery in a garish pink. Nina's favorite color.

The nurse behind me stiffened, gripping the handles in awkward silence.

"Oh, I completely forgot!"

Father hurried over, closing the car door before crouching down in front of me.

"I'm so sorry, Serena. Dad's been swamped lately and it slipped my mind. Tell you what—take the hospital ambulance home today. As soon as I have time, I'll buy you a car of your own. A brand new one."

A faint, humorless smile touched my lips.

"It's fine. No need. I won't be needing it much longer."

"Won't be needing it...?"

Confusion flickered through Father's eyes. "Serena, Dad doesn't understand what you mean."

"Exactly what I said. I simply won't have a use for it."

Joshua stepped forward, his hand coming up to stroke my hair. His touch was warm, but his eyes were unreadable.

"Our Serena is just saying she'll recover soon," he said smoothly. "Once she's well, we won't need wheelchairs or special cars." He turned to Father. "Right, Dad? You'll figure something out for Serena as soon as possible, won't you?"

Father let out a visible sigh of relief, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, yes, of course."

Joshua took the wheelchair handles from the nurse. But before he could turn the chair, Nina rushed up behind him, latching onto his forearm.

"Joshua, I want you to sit with me."

She leaned against him, whining softly. "Sitting in the back with Mom and Dad is so boring. Since Serena can't come with us, you should keep me company. That's fair, isn't it, Brother-in-law?"

Joshua made a show of trying to dislodge her hand, though not hard enough to actually break her grip.

"Don't be difficult, Nina. Your sister isn't feeling well..."

"Go."

I cut him off. I didn't have the energy for their performance. I unlocked the brakes and pushed the wheels forward myself.

"Just go."

As the nurse wheeled me toward the waiting ambulance, I glanced back. Joshua scooped Nina up into his arms and carried her into the car. My parents stood by, beaming, their eyes full of doting affection for their fragile, precious daughter.

I was the only one looking away.

Once the ambulance engine roared to life, my phone buzzed. A message from Joshua.

[Serena, don't misunderstand. Nina has just recovered from a serious illness and her body is still very weak. Our parents are getting old and can't lift her, so I had to help. I'm the only one who could do it.]

I stared at the screen. Weak? She had been jumping around the parking lot moments ago.

[I know.]

I typed the two words and locked the screen. A sharp pain stabbed through my chest, and I pressed my hand against my heart, steadying my breathing. It didn't matter. I would be leaving soon anyway. Playing along with their little theater for a few more days wouldn't kill me.

Or perhaps, it would.

When I arrived at the Lambert estate, I looked up at the familiar facade. A month ago, I had left this house filled with hope, eager to build a life with the people inside. Now, staring at the same walls, a bitter taste filled my mouth. In just a few weeks, everything had changed. The house was the same, but the home was gone.

"Serena..."

Mother approached as the medical staff helped me down from the ambulance. She took my hand, pressing a small red sachet into my palm.

"This is a safety talisman. Mom went to the temple early this morning to pray for it specifically for you. Keep this on you at all times, and you won't encounter any more danger."

She closed my fingers around the fabric, her expression earnest.

"Hurry and take it, Serena. To get this, your mom performed the pilgrimage—three steps, one kneel; five steps, one bow. I've even been fasting for seven days just to ensure it's effective."

I looked down at the red talisman in my hand. A safety charm, from the woman plotting to carve out my heart to save her other daughter. The irony was so sharp it almost drew blood.