When I was four, my sister and I fell into the river. Only I survived. From that day on, Mom hated me. At night, she would try to force colorful "candies" into my mouth, but Dad always stopped her in time. Later, I grew my hair long and wore floral dresses, trying to live as my sister's shadow. Only then would Mom look at me. Three years later, Mom got pregnant again. She said my dead sister, Chloe, was coming back. I was happy for her. Chloe is coming back. That’s good... That means this family doesn't need me, the replacement, anymore. I found the "candy" Mom tried to feed me years ago and swallowed it quietly. Chapter 1 The bitterness of the "candy" spread in my mouth. I bent over, dry heaving, acid mixing with saliva. This was the rat poison Mom hid in the back of the closet three years ago. Back then, she would sit by my bed late at night, eyes empty, whispering: "Why aren't you dead yet?" Now, I was fulfilling her wish. I was wearing a girl's floral dress. The hem was frayed. It was Chloe's old dress, too small for me now. But Mom said... I had to wear it to look like Chloe. Laughter came from the living room. It was a gentle sound I hadn't heard in years. She was touching her belly, talking to Dad: "The doctor said it's definitely a girl. Look how stable the pregnancy is." Her voice was sickeningly sweet. "Finally... I don't have to look at that debt collector's face anymore." I wanted to see Mom's smile one last time. As soon as I reached the door, Dad saw me. He frowned. "Noah, why aren't you doing your homework?" His gaze swept over my floral dress and quickly looked away, as if seeing something painful. Mom turned and saw me. Her smile froze instantly. "Who let you out? Your hair is short again. Didn't I tell you to keep it long like Chloe's?" She walked over quickly and poked my forehead hard. "Always causing trouble. When Chloe is born, if you dare bully her, I'll break your legs." I shrank back. The red mark on my forehead stung. The "candy" in my stomach began to dissolve. Waves of pain hit my abdomen, making me bend over. Dad wanted to help me, but Mom stopped him. "Don't touch him. He's probably faking it for sympathy." I bit my lip and said nothing, slowly shuffling back to my room. Every step felt like knives twisting in my gut. My limbs went numb, and my hand shaking as I held the doorframe. I lay on the bed, my body twitching uncontrollably. The door opened. Dad came in with a glass of warm water. He put the glass on my nightstand and hesitated before saying, "Noah, your mom is pregnant and emotional. Don't take it to heart." I shook my head, but could only let out a weak groan. Dad's figure started to blur. Dad sighed. He tucked me in. "Sleep well. You'll feel better tomorrow." He closed the door when he left. The room went silent. I pulled out the doll from under my pillow. It was Chloe's favorite. The fabric was worn shiny. I cleaned it every day. Mom said it was Chloe's, so I had to protect it. Last time a classmate took it, I fought and got beaten up to get it back. Gradually, my vision blurred. I hugged the doll tight and closed my eyes. Mom, Chloe is coming back. You don't have to suffer looking at me, the replacement, anymore. This is good. Chapter 2 Slowly, the pain faded. Like a dandelion seed caught in the wind, I floated up to the ceiling. I could see the small body on the bed clearly. The floral dress was wrinkled around him. His face was paper-white, lips blue, dried bile at the corner of his mouth. He was still clutching the doll. When Mom pushed the door open, I was looking at my hands. Transparent. Sunlight passed through them. She didn't look at me on the bed. She walked straight to the desk, picked up Chloe's photo, and wiped it again and again. "Chloe, Mom is going to buy you a new bassinet today. Do you like pink or blue?" She turned to leave and accidentally kicked the bed leg. She glanced impatiently at me on the bed. Frowning, she said, "Still sleeping? The sun is up. Get up and make breakfast. Do you want to starve me and Chloe?" I floated in front of her and spoke, but she couldn't hear me. She stomped out in her slippers, humming a lullaby. From the kitchen came the sound of Dad beating eggs and Mom's instruction: "Add two more spoons of sugar. Chloe loved sweets." I floated to the kitchen door. Dad put a pancake on a plate. It was heart-shaped. I didn't like heart-shaped pancakes. But since Chloe died, Dad only made them heart-shaped. He said Chloe liked them. Mom took the plate and placed it in the center of the table carefully, like an offering. "Go wake him up," Mom told Dad impatiently. "Don't let him delay us buying the bassinet." Dad put down the milk and walked toward my room. I followed him. He stood by the bed, reaching out, but his hand stopped on the blanket. "Noah, wake up." His voice was soft. "We're buying a bassinet today. Want to come?" My body on the bed didn't move. Dad's fingers trembled. He shook my shoulder. "Noah?" Mom shouted from the living room: "What's taking so long? Is he faking sleep again?" She rushed in. Seeing Dad frozen by the bed, she exploded. "He's definitely faking! He just doesn't want us to buy Chloe a bassinet! Ignore him. Let's go. Chloe is waiting." Dad didn't move. He looked at my body, agitated. "He is our child too." "He is not!" Mom screamed. "My only child is Chloe! He is the murderer who killed Chloe!" She grabbed the photo from the desk and smashed it on the floor. Glass shards cut Dad's hand. Dad said nothing. He picked up the shards silently and wrapped his hand in a tissue. The phone rang. It was the school teacher. Mom answered, voice instantly gentle: "Hello, Mrs. Thompson. Is it about Chloe... I mean, Noah?" Hearing the teacher ask why I wasn't at school, Mom's voice turned cold. "He skipped school on purpose. Don't worry about him. Let him rot." She hung up and pulled Dad away. "Let's go. Don't let him waste our time." Dad looked back at my room, paused, but let Mom drag him away. As the door closed, I saw Dad wipe his eyes. The house was quiet. Only the clock ticked. I floated to the bed, looking at myself. My face was round but gaunt, chin sharp. My hair was shorter than Mom wanted. Not flowing like Chloe's. I remembered the last haircut. The barber cut it a bit short, and Mom screamed at him, saying he ruined Chloe's look. She made me kneel for two hours at home, saying I didn't deserve to have hair like Chloe's. Kneeling there, looking at Chloe's photo, I suddenly felt like a stranger. Chapter 3 In the afternoon, Mom and Dad returned with a pink bassinet embroidered with a princess. Mom was beaming. She placed it in the living room. "Chloe will love this. She loved sleeping with her princess doll." Dad glanced at my room. "Should we check on Noah?" Mom's face darkened. "Why? He'll come out when he's hungry." She sat by the bassinet, rocking it gently, humming a lullaby. Her eyes were dripping with love. I floated over to look at the pink bassinet. Small, exquisite. Chloe's style. Mom said she'd buy it for Chloe's birthday, but Chloe left before that. Now it's here. Its little owner is coming back in another way. Mom suddenly looked up, sensing something. She looked in my direction. I quickly floated to the ceiling. Her gaze swept the empty living room, frowned, then went back to the bassinet. "Chloe, Mom is waiting for you," she whispered. "I won't let you leave again." I watched her profile. I wasn't sad. Mom is finally getting her Chloe back. I, the replacement, should disappear completely. This way, everyone can be happy. On the third morning, someone pounded on the door. I floated to the living room. Mom opened the door impatiently. It was my homeroom teacher, Mrs. Thompson. "Mrs. Sarah," Mrs. Thompson looked serious. "Noah hasn't been to school for three days. You didn't answer my calls, so I came to check." She tried to look inside. "Is Noah home?" Mom blocked the door. "He's home. Throwing a tantrum. Don't worry, I'll talk to him." "It's not a tantrum," Mrs. Thompson frowned. "Last week, students reported Noah was bullied. Kids stripped his clothes and poured cold water on him. I wanted to discuss this, but couldn't reach you." Mom jumped like a cat whose tail was stepped on. "Don't listen to those kids! Noah must be misbehaving and provoking others! He's been vicious since he was little. He killed his sister, and now he plays the victim at school!" Mrs. Thompson's face darkened. "Mrs. Sarah, I saw the bruises on Noah. They are new. And I know Noah was bullied protecting a classmate. He is a good student. You can't say that." "Good?!" Mom screamed, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. "If he was good, Chloe wouldn't be dead! He's a curse! I shouldn't have let him live!" Mrs. Thompson was shocked. She sighed. "If you act like this, I have to contact Child Protective Services. Noah is a good boy. You can't treat him like this." She turned to leave. Mom cursed behind her back until she disappeared. Closing the door, Mom trembled with rage. She kicked my door. "Noah! Look at the trouble you caused! Even the teacher came! Why don't you just die!" I floated beside her, looking at her twisted face. I remembered the drowning when I was four. We fell into the river. I tried to hold her hand, but the current separated us. When I was saved, Mom was holding Chloe's body, crying. The first thing she said to me was, "Why didn't you die?" Dad came out of the study. "Stop yelling. The neighbors will hear." His voice was low. "Noah hasn't eaten in three days. Let's check on him." Mom shook off his hand. "Check what? He won't die!" But this time, Dad didn't listen. He opened the door. Mom hesitated, then followed. Dad walked over and lifted the quilt. Sunlight hit my body. My pale face, blue lips, and dried blood at the corner of my mouth were clearly visible.
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