On the last day of December, a woman led five-year-old me out of the foster home. She named me Hope. "Hope, your sister's name is Grace. Your birthday is on New Year's Day, symbolizing rebirth." "So, every birthday, you must make a wish. A wish means a new beginning, a thing full of hope." I nodded vigorously, teeth chattering from the cold. Back then, I didn't understand. Every time I made a wish, Mom would take something from me. At six, I wished to see fireworks; they took my bone marrow. At seven, I wished for a doll; they took a kidney. At eight, I wished for cake; they took a lobe of my liver. This year, I am ten. Mom looked at me tenderly in the candlelight: "Hope, make a wish." In the flickering light, I closed my eyes. My only wish this year is... To survive this year. Chapter 1 The fireworks outside danced in Mom's gentle eyes. She asked softly: "Hope, what did you wish for this year?" I looked into her eyes, where the warmth I craved all year resided. I moved closer carefully and whispered: "I wish... Mom would love me forever." Mom's expression froze for a second. Then, she opened her arms and pulled me into a hug. The hug was tight, so tight I could barely breathe. She smelled of faint perfume. My cheek pressed against her soft sweater, and my eyes heated up. "Silly child." Mom's voice came from above, smiling. "Of course Mom loves you. As long as you are good, as long as your sister Grace survives, Mom will love you forever." I nodded hard, rubbing tears onto her sweater. Mom only hugged me when I made a wish. This was the hug I waited a whole year for, from last New Year's to today. Just as I extended my thin arms to hug her back, Mom let go. She cupped my face, wiping away my tears with her thumbs: "Hope is so sensible. Mom granted your wish, now will you grant Mom's wish? Help your sister one more time, okay?" I nodded. It was always like this. I was used to it. "Grace's heart is getting worse." Mom's voice remained gentle. "The doctor says she needs a healthy heart. Hope, are you willing to give your heart to your sister?" "Tomorrow, Mom will take you to the hospital for matching tests. If it matches, Grace can live. You want your sister to live, right?" I looked at her expectant eyes, at the gentle smile on her lips. "Okay," I said. Mom's smile brightened instantly. She hugged me again, light and fast: "I knew Hope is the best." As she got up to cut the cake, the living room door was pushed open. My sister, Grace, walked in wrapped in a thick down jacket, cheeks flushed from the wind, eyes shining. "Mom! The countdown at the square started! Martha said we can watch from the front row! There are fireworks!" Mom put down the knife immediately, walked to Grace, and brushed the snow off her shoulder: "Sweetie, speak slowly, don't swallow the wind. It's cold outside, how about we go after your surgery?" "I want to go!" Grace swung Mom's hand, whining, "It's once a year! And the doctor said I'm stable..." Mom glanced back at me, then at the expectant Grace. That glance was short, too short for me to read the emotion. "Okay, okay. But only for a little while. Don't get tired." Mom's tone held a doting I never heard before. Then she turned to me: "Hope, you have tests tomorrow. Rest early tonight, don't go." I opened my mouth, wanting to say I wanted to see fireworks too. I wanted to see real fireworks. When I wished at six, Mom promised me. I still remembered her smiling and saying: "Okay, after you help Grace, Mom will take you." But after I gave my bone marrow, Mom just patted my head: "Next time. Grace can't wait." The words were swallowed back. Mom had already led Grace to the door, not looking back: "Hope, don't eat anything after the cake. You need to fast for tomorrow." The door closed. Chapter 2 I stood there, holding the piece of cake Mom gave me. The living room fell silent, except for the noise from the TV countdown: "Ten minutes left! The New Year is coming!" I carried the cake back to my small room. The storage room had no windows. I sat on the small bed, eating the cake in small bites. It was sweet. Sweet enough to be bitter. I suddenly remembered the night after my kidney donation at seven. The anesthesia wore off, the wound burned like fire. I cried for Mom. The nurse checked and said Mom was in Grace's room because Grace had a nightmare. That night, I counted the cracks on the ceiling. At three hundred and twenty-seven, the sun rose. After the liver surgery at eight, I vomited until I blacked out. Mom visited, frowned, and asked the nurse: "Why such a big reaction? Will it affect the liver quality?" She didn't ask if I hurt. Didn't ask if I was scared. She only cared about the organ that was no longer in my body. The cake was finished quickly, but a sharper emptiness and pain came from my stomach. I only ate this small piece since the afternoon. Mom said to fast. But no one told me fasting hurt this much. The old scar on my abdomen started to ache dully. Since losing my kidney, I hurt every night. The living room lights were off. Martha probably went to sleep. The house was quiet, only my stomach growling and distant firecrackers. I endured, but finally pushed the door open gently. There must be food in the kitchen, even a slice of bread. In the fridge, there was a bowl of soup that looked delicious. I swallowed. "Hope?" Martha's voice came from behind. I jumped, almost dropping the bowl. "Are you hungry?" Martha walked over, looking troubled. "But Madam said you have blood tests tomorrow, you must fast..." "Just one sip," I begged softly, stomach growling again. "Martha, I'm so hungry, my tummy hurts..." Martha hesitated. She looked at the clock, then at my pale face and the hand clutching my stomach. Finally, she sighed: "Just a small sip. Really small. Or I'll get scolded." She poured a spoonful into a cup and heated it. In those few seconds, the aroma filled the air. My stomach cramped as if squeezed by an invisible hand. "Here, drink slowly." The moment the warm liquid hit my throat, I almost cried. So hungry. Every sip was salvation. I sipped carefully, afraid to finish too fast. Just then, the front door clicked. Dad, Mom, and Grace returned. Grace was in Dad's arms, sleeping. Mom followed with her bag. Their smiles froze when they saw me in the kitchen with a cup. "Hope? Didn't I say fast?" Mom rushed over, snatching the cup. Grace woke up, seeing Mom's angry face, she shrank into Dad's arms. "Mom..." I looked at her, tears surging, "I'm really hungry, it hurts..." I pointed to my side where the kidney was missing. It throbbed from hunger and cold. "Hurts? You're doing it on purpose! You don't want to save Grace, so you ate?" "No, Mom, I'm just hungry..." I cried, reaching for her sleeve. Dad frowned, carrying Grace to the master bedroom: "Claire, put Grace to sleep first. Don't scare the child." Mom's finger almost poked my nose: "Hope, didn't I tell you, be good and Mom loves you? Did you promise to give your heart to Grace?" "I did, I did. Mom, don't scold me, don't throw me away..." I gasped. "You liar! You don't want to save her! I raised you for nothing!" She grabbed my arm, crushing my bone, dragging me to the storage room. Familiar fear drowned me. She's going to abandon me, just like the orphanage auntie said. Bad kids get thrown away. Mom shoved me in. I fell, pain shooting through me: "You selfish ingrate! Stay here and reflect!" The door slammed. Darkness swallowed me. Chapter 3 I curled in the cold corner, stomach empty and aching. Hunger gnawed from the inside, making me shiver. Worse was the itch. I scratched my skin, leaving red marks. But the more I scratched, the more it itched. Drilling into my heart. "Stop being hungry, Mom doesn't want me anymore..." I muttered, digging nails into skin: "Transplant will fix it... scratch it clean and Mom will come back..." Warm liquid seeped out. Pain finally covered the itch. Darkness took my sight but sharpened my senses. I heard my heavy breathing, smelled the sweetness of the New Year Cake. Everyone eats cake on New Year's. I wanted some too. Consciousness blurred. I saw that woman again. Snowy night. Thin coat. Holding a bundled baby. Couldn't see her face, just her shaking shoulders. She put the baby on the cold steps and walked away. "Mom... Mom..." The baby cried, reaching out. That was me. One or two years old. The woman paused but didn't look back. Snow turned her into a white shadow. "Mom take me! I'll be good!" "Don't leave me... please..." I chased crying. But her back grew smaller, disappearing into the snow. I knelt in the snow, crying until hoarse, until frozen. Until the orphanage worker dragged me back like trash, throwing me into the windowless room. "Stop crying! Your mom doesn't want you! Crying is useless!" The lock sounded just like tonight. "No... Mom... don't leave me..." I woke up sobbing. Face wet with cold sweat and tears. Morning. I struggled up. Scabs tore, stinging. I leaned on the wall, moved to the door, opening a crack. Living room bright. A big plate of white dumplings on the table. Grace sat in her high chair. Mom blew on a dumpling, feeding her. "Come, Grace. Lucky Dumpling. Eat for peace and health." Grace bit it, smiling satisfied: "Yummy!" "Eat more." Dad poured milk for her. "Our Grace needs lots of luck today." My eyes glued to the dumplings. Hungry. So hungry. Vision blackening. I forgot pain, forgot punishment. Only food remained. "Hope?" Dad saw me first. Mom and Grace turned. But I couldn't care. My focus was on the dumpling that fell from Grace's bowl. Before I touched it, Grace tried to protect her bowl, bumping my hand. Weak as I was, I fell, smashing the table. Grace wailed: "My dumplings... my Lucky Dumplings... gone... woo woo..." Mom's face turned iron. She stood up and slapped me hard. My head snapped to the side. Ears ringing. Face numb. "Hope! You did it on purpose! You can't stand Grace being happy? Even stealing her dumplings?" I shook my head crying, terror gripping my organs: "I'm hungry... I want to save Grace... I'll give my heart... let me eat a little..." Mom sneered, dragging me to the door: "Then let's go to the hospital now! Get the surgery done early! Save you being an eyesore here, trying to harm Grace!" Cold wind cut my face. Wearing thin pajamas, I was stuffed into the car. Arrived at the hospital. I was taken to a bright room. The doctor frowned at my bruised body: "Mr. and Mrs. Vance, this child looks ten at most, body very weak. Are you sure about matching now?" "Is she willing? Did you ask her?" Mom looked fierce: "She is." I summoned strength, kneeling before Mom, tears flowing: "Mom, Dad, I want to eat dumplings. I want Mom to call me baby. I want Mom to love me." "I want to live through this year too." Chapter 4 I shook, almost suffocating. Silence in the ward. Grace shrank into Mom's arms, coughing: "Mom! Does she not want to give me her heart?" "It's all her fault! Since she came, I've been sick! Did she pass her bad luck to me?" "She stole my dumplings, now she wants to steal my parents!" Steal? I looked up, screaming irrationally, tears mixing with blood on my face: "Then who stole what was in my spine? Who took my kidney? Who took my liver?" "My body, my organs, my life, aren't they a life too? Since I came here, I've been losing, hurting. I stole nothing! I gave you everything!" Another slap. Harder, fiercer. Dad this time. He grabbed my hair, lifting me up roughly. "Hope, your cheap life was worthless since the day you were dumped at the orphanage!" "A waste unwanted by parents! Destined to die of hunger or cold! We pitied you! Took you out of that hell! Fed you, clothed you!" "From the day we took you, your existence was for Grace to live! Now Grace needs your heart. That's your fate! You owe us!" I lay on the floor, blood frozen. So that's it. I just owe you. Then I'll pay. I laughed lightly, propping myself up shakily. "Doctor, I volunteer. Can we start?" Dad huffed: "Should have been like this. Wasting time, delaying Grace!" I entered the OR. Anesthesia spread from my hand, flowing through veins. Doctor prepping. I turned my head with difficulty, looking at the small observation window. Two shadows stood behind the glass. Dad and Mom. Shoulder to shoulder, eyes focused on Grace on the other table. Mom prayed. Dad held her. From start to finish, they didn't look at me once. Not even once. Consciousness fading. The last thing I saw was Mom leaning close to the window, nodding to the doctor inside, mouthing: "Please." Then she turned, walking with Dad to Grace's room. Their backs overlapped perfectly with the shadow leaving in the snowy night. I closed my eyes, letting darkness take me. Mom, Dad. Everything you want, I return to you. Marrow, kidney, liver, and this heart. Finally, we are even. I don't owe you anymore. Unknown time passed. Door opened. Parents surrounded the surgeon. He nodded: "Surgery successful. Almost no rejection." "This is extremely rare in non-related transplants. Usually only happens with direct blood relatives." Air solidified. Dad rasped: "Direct blood relatives?"
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