My mother gave my heart transplant spot to someone else. The surgery was a success. Reporters flocked to the hospital to interview her. "Dr. Vance," a journalist asked, holding a microphone to her face, "we heard your own son has been on the transplant list for three years..." My mother, the esteemed Chief of Cardiothoracic Surgery, cut him off smoothly. "As a doctor’s family, my son has understood from a young age that medicine requires sacrifice. He knows that a physician’s duty is to put others before oneself. He supports my decision wholeheartedly." I stood in the shadows, remembering three months ago when she told me the donor heart had "complications" and I needed to wait. But right now, the recovering patient was on stage, tearfully thanking my mother. "Dr. Vance is my savior. She didn't just waive my surgical fees; she took me into her home and gave me a family..." To make room for him, my mother had banned me from coming home for the last six months. Watching them hug on stage, a sharp, crushing pain radiated through my chest. My heart was giving out. I stood up to get my medication. But a producer spotted me and dragged me onto the stage. My mother frowned, annoyed by my lack of a smile. In front of the cameras, she announced that she had officially taken her sponsored student under her wing as her godson. She nudged me to call him "brother." Blood rushed to my head. I heard my own voice, calm and terrifyingly steady. "Since you have a new son now, I’ll remove myself from this family. I wouldn't want to interrupt your mother-son bonding." Chapter 1 I threw the microphone to the floor and turned to leave. Before I could take a step, my mother grabbed my arm. "Julian needs long-term rehabilitation," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "You are my son. Acting like this in front of the press? Do you know what people will think? Do you know how this stress could affect his recovery?" I looked at her in disbelief. She didn't care about my pain. She was terrified that my departure would tarnish the reputation of her shiny new "son." My father rushed over to block my path. "There are cameras everywhere, Liam. Where is your dignity? Even if you have to fake it, get through the interview." I was forcefully dragged back in front of the lens and told to apologize to Julian. The three of them held hands—a perfect unit. I looked like a stranger crashing a family portrait. The dam finally broke. I took the crystal award the reporters had brought for my mother and smashed it onto the floor. It shattered into jagged pieces. My mother charged at me, her hand raised to slap me, freezing in mid-air. "How did I raise such an ungrateful wolf?" I stared straight into her eyes. "Ungrateful?" My voice rang out, crystal clear in the suddenly silent auditorium. "When my myocarditis first flared up, you said it was common and told me to drive myself to the ER for an IV." "But when Julian’s bloodwork was slightly off, you flew in a specialist team from Boston overnight." The air in the room solidified. Camera flashes went off like strobes. My mother tried to intervene. "Liam, we discuss family matters in private..." "Private?" I laughed, tears streaming down my face without permission. "Three years ago, I was lying in the ER, shaking because every heartbeat felt like a knife. Which one of you came to see me?" "The attending physician suggested admission. You said beds were tight and I should yield to a more critical patient." "I get it now." I looked past the cameras at Julian. "The 'tight bed situation' was just a reservation for the son you actually care about." My dad lunged to grab me, but I shook him off. "And you! I’m your biological son! But you knew my heart wouldn't last another year, and you still agreed to give my matched heart to an outsider?" "What is it? Is this poor scholarship student actually your illegitimate child?" Slap! My mother’s hand finally connected with my face. "That is enough! Apologize to Julian right now!" "Apologize?" I chuckled, tasting blood. "I’ve been in the ICU multiple times, critically ill, and I couldn't even get a private room because you didn't want to 'abuse your power.'" "Your colleagues begged to pull strings for me, but you refused. You said we couldn't be special." "So why can you pull strings for an orphan whose condition hadn't even worsened yet?" I couldn't understand. Even if she wanted to be selfless, wasn't a doctor’s job to save lives? I was dying. Why did I always have to be the one to step aside? "Since you love him so much, let him be your child." Chapter 2 I turned to leave, but a sledgehammer of pain slammed into my chest. I doubled over and vomited a mouthful of bright red blood. When I opened my eyes again, my chest felt like it was being crushed by a boulder. Every beat was agony. Through the glass of the ICU, I could hear Dr. Harris, my mom's colleague, whispering urgently. "This collapse was acute heart failure. With his dilated cardiomyopathy... best case scenario, he has six months. If he has another episode like this..." The ICU door pushed open. My mother walked in, wearing her pristine white coat. Julian was with her, eyes red and puffy, holding a bouquet of flowers. He stood timidly by the door. "You're awake?" My mother walked to the bedside. There was no concern in her tone, only exhaustion and irritation. "I managed to suppress the story with the press for now, but what you did today was damaging. Julian was cornered by reporters. He almost had a panic attack." I opened my mouth, but my throat was too dry to make a sound. "Liam... I'm sorry," Julian stepped forward, tears falling. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have accepted the surgery. I... I'll give the heart back to you..." "Don't be ridiculous," my mother snapped, turning to support him. "The surgery was a success. You're recovering perfectly. Don't say stupid things." She patted Julian’s back with a tenderness I had never experienced. Then she turned her cold gaze back to me. "Look how sensible Julian is. He knows how hard this opportunity was to come by. He does his rehab without complaint. And you? Making a scene in public, making us a laughingstock, putting Julian in a difficult position." My dad sighed from the corner. "Liam, your mother has a hard job. You need to be more understanding." "Understanding?" The heart monitor began to beep erratically. "I've been understanding for twenty-three years! I understood your career, I understood your patients, I understood your 'selflessness'!" Dr. Harris rushed in. "Dr. Vance, the patient cannot handle stress right now!" My mother ignored him. "Do you know how hard Julian has had it? Growing up in the foster system, studying his way into med school on scholarships... he never complains because he’s afraid of being a burden. You grew up with a silver spoon. Have we ever mistreated you? Just this one time..." "One time?" I laughed, tears flowing freely now. "When I was ten and hospitalized for the first time, you said the ward was busy and left me with a nurse." "When I passed out in gym class at fifteen, the school nurse said I needed a specialist. You said grades came first and we’d check in the summer." "When I was nineteen and diagnosed, you said I was young and could manage it." Every word felt like glass in my lungs. "But for Julian? You organized a national panel of experts. You got him the VIP suite. You gave him the heart I waited three years for!" Julian started sobbing louder. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry... Dr. Vance, please, give the heart to Liam. I... I can wait..." "What are you waiting for?" I snapped my eyes to him. "Your heart function is near normal now. Are you waiting for me to die so you can perform grief?" "Liam!" My mother shouted. "Watch your mouth! Julian has a good heart!" "A good heart?" I stared at my mother. "Mom, you're so selfless. So ethical. So willing to sacrifice..." I gasped for air, black spots dancing in my vision, but I had to finish. "When the cross-matching was done, your blood type was a match too. You're his godmother. Why didn't you donate your heart to him? Wouldn't that have made you even greater?" Chapter 3 Deathly silence filled the room. My mother’s face drained of color. Her lips trembled. "You... You..." She pointed a shaking finger at me. "Me what?" I leaned back, numb from the pain. "You said a doctor’s family needs to make sacrifices. You said 'others before self.' So donate. Give Julian your heart. I’ll wait for my own. That way, nobody owes anybody anything." "Insolent! Absolutely insolent!" My father was shaking with rage. "How dare you speak to your mother that way!" Julian dropped to his knees with a thud, wailing. "It's all my fault! I'll go find a doctor right now. I'll ask them to cut it out! My life belongs to Dr. Vance anyway, I'll give it back to Liam!" He made a show of rushing for the door, but my mother caught him. "Silly child, stop this nonsense!" She hugged Julian tightly, then looked back at me. Her eyes held disappointment, and something that looked terrifyingly like hate. "Liam, I never thought you would become so vicious." She had clearly lost her composure. "Julian just had major surgery. You want him to extract the heart now? You want to kill him?" "And is it wrong that I want to live?" Dr. Harris couldn't take it anymore. "Elena, the patient is unstable. He needs quiet..." "He needs to reflect!" My mother cut him off, walking to my bed. "Liam, I am telling you this now: Julian is my son. I will take care of him until he is fully recovered. As for you..." She paused, making a final decision. "When you stabilize and are ready to apologize to Julian, we can talk." She grabbed Julian’s hand and walked out of the ICU without looking back. My father gave me a complicated look, sighed, and followed them. The door clicked shut. Through the glass, I saw my mother tenderly wiping tears from Julian’s face in the hallway. My father patted his back. Their shadows blended together under the fluorescent lights. A perfect family of three. I lay in the ICU, listening to the fading rhythm of my own heart. Some things are more suffocating than heart failure. Dr. Harris hesitated, then whispered, "Actually... last week, there was a brain-dead donor who was a match for you." "But... your mother signed the paperwork to transfer that heart to another patient." I stared at him blankly. "W-Why?" Dr. Harris’s voice trembled. "That patient needed a transplant, yes, but their urgency status was far lower than yours. The entire department felt... it wasn't right." It made perfect sense to me. She had to prove she had no bias. To prove she was selfless. To prove her ethics were impeccable. Even if the cost was my life. "Thank you for telling me." My voice was muffled by the oxygen mask. "Don't give up," Dr. Harris said urgently. "I've contacted transplant centers in other hospitals. We can figure this out..." "No need." I shook my head slightly. "Can you get me a paper and pen? I want to write a will and sever legal ties." I looked at the retreating backs of my parents. "And I need to sign the organ donation forms." Chapter 4 My parents didn't show up again. Julian, however, started sending me videos every day. Videos of them redecorating my bedroom for him. Videos of my parents brewing herbal remedies for him personally. Videos of them throwing away my childhood plushie, Mr. Bear. My mom bought me that bear when I was scared alone at night while she worked the graveyard shift. I had dragged that tattered bear through twenty years. Now, I didn't need it either. “Liam, I feel like Mom and Dad don’t really like you. They’d rather take me on a trip than visit you.” “Can’t you just apologize? Raising you wasn’t easy. You’re so ungrateful.” I stared at the screen as the heart monitor screamed. Finally, I opened TikTok. I changed my handle to @LiamWaitingForAHeart. I posted my medical diagnosis. Then I posted the receipts of my mother’s lies. Finally, I uploaded Julian’s taunting videos. Caption: Under what circumstances does a biological child rank lower than a stranger? Three hours later, my mother stormed in, her hair a mess. "Liam! What did you post?!" She snatched my phone. "Delete it! Delete it now!" The screen was lit up. 999+ shares. Ten thousand comments. "Do you know what you're doing?!" Her voice was piercing. "Julian has been doxxed! People are calling the scholarship fund! He just had surgery, he can't handle this stress!" I looked at her calmly. "And me? I'm in the ICU. Can I handle him sending me videos every day telling me to die?" "He's trying to connect with you!" "Connect?" I smiled. "He's checking to see when I'll die so he can fully take my place." "You..." She raised her hand but forced it down. She took a deep breath, switching to her professional doctor mode. "Liam, you are emotionally unstable. These posts are causing serious damage to the hospital and my reputation. Delete them, issue a public apology, and I won't pursue this." "Pursue this?" I whispered. "Mom, how will you pursue it? By cutting off my medical funds again?" Her eyes darted away for a split second. That was my answer. "Dr. Harris," she turned to her colleague who had rushed in. "As of today, discharge Liam. This hospital does not treat patients who incite harassment." Dr. Harris was shocked. "Elena! He can't be discharged in this condition!" "Then transfer him," she said coldly. "We're too small a temple for this big god." She leaned down, her lips close to my ear, her voice ice-cold: "Delete. Apologize. Admit you made it up because you're mentally unstable. Otherwise, no hospital in this state will take you." I looked at her face. The face that used to check my fever. The face that once promised to cure me. Now, only threats remained. "Do whatever you want," I said. She turned to leave. At the door, she looked back. "Liam, don't blame me for being cruel. You ruined Julian's life first." The door slammed. Dr. Harris stood by the bed. After a long time, he whispered, "I can call a hospital out of state..." "No need." I stared at the ceiling. "Dr. Harris, thank you for everything. But I'm tired." Truly tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of waiting. The next morning, I processed my discharge against medical advice. The account showed a balance due of $27,000. She had indeed cut off all funding. I transferred the last bit of savings I had to the hospital and signed a promissory note for the rest. Dragging my suitcase out of the inpatient tower, my heart throbbed with agony. "Liam!" My mother’s voice came from behind.
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