My Sister’s HeartChapter 2

“Sis, your face was already big, but after Mom and Dad beat you, it looks even more like a flatbread.”

My sister sat on the hospital bed, laughing, her body shaking. Her skin was like snow, her teeth bright and even, making her look like a beautiful princess. Even mocking me, she was pretty.

And I sat there, like an extra, utterly unremarkable.

My parents waited anxiously beside her. My mother tugged at my sleeve several times, repeatedly warning me.

“When the doctor comes later, you know what to say and what not to say, right?”

I nodded, watching my sister, also suffering from congenital heart disease, sitting on the bed eating fruit neatly cut by our father, while our mother massaged her shoulders.

A picture of a loving, harmonious family.

When the doctor arrived, my mother immediately handed over the prepared agreement to relinquish the heart, but the doctor didn't even spare her a glance.

The doctor stared at the wounds on my exposed skin, pushed up his black-rimmed glasses, his expression grave.

“Young lady, are you truly doing this voluntarily? If there are any issues, we can talk outside alone. I’d be happy to discuss your thoughts in depth. You’ve been waiting for this heart for a long time…”

I forced a smile, which looked strained with all the bruises on my face. “I am doing this voluntarily, Doctor.”

“If you give up now, it might be another three to five years before a suitable heart becomes available again. I think you should consider this carefully. If necessary, we can offer you other services…”

I glanced at my parents, whose eyes were shadowed behind the doctor, and my sister, who rolled her eyes. I ignored the doctor’s subtle hints.

I lowered my head. “No need, thank you. This is truly my voluntary decision.”

The doctor didn't try to persuade me further. He sighed, then finally took the agreement and left.

A triumphant smile finally bloomed on my sister’s face. Even malicious thoughts looked pretty on her. “Sis, you’re so obedient.”

There’s a character archetype online called a ‘femme fatale.’

My sister, Lena, fit those four words perfectly.

Lena, my sister, first tested my boundaries in first grade.

She hit me first, then blamed me, claiming I started it.

The reason was simple: her older sister was jealous of her.

My parents and teachers, without hesitation, chose to believe her.

From then on, my sister successfully established a hierarchy in her mind: she was first, my parents second, and I was third.

She stood out among the crowd of runny-nosed elementary school children in puffy clothes, dressed in various princess dresses prepared by our parents, garnering a host of little fans in class.

And I, a year older than my sister, could only ever wear her hand-me-downs.

Clothes that were one size too small always felt constricting on me, making me look like a freak in the eyes of my peers.

I didn’t know why my parents could be so biased.

I knew my sister was beautiful and smart, never dropping out of the top five in her grade since childhood.

But I was just ordinary. I hadn’t done anything wrong.

From beginning to end, I hadn’t done anything terrible; I was just ordinary.

“Sis, after my heart surgery, I’m going to be healthy and go to college! Thank you for your heart. I’ll carry your dreams with me, okay?”

Lena smiled sweetly at me.

My heart stung, a mix of sourness and bitterness, intertwined with an indescribable complex of other emotions.

My dream was that university I’d gotten into through an extraordinary effort.

It was the same university Lena would attend, having performed consistently well.

I also forced a smile. “Alright, you absolutely must be safe, sound, and a-live.”

The tone of ‘alive’ was stretched out, sounding somewhat eerie.

Lena, your words erased the last shred of guilt in my heart.