1 My sister Sarah gave up everything for me after our parents died. First, her job. Not long after, her boyfriend of seven years, Mark, broke up with her. Jobless and heartbroken, she grew quiet, withdrawn. The warm smiles she used to give me vanished, replaced by a permanent storm cloud. The third time I had a heart attack and was rushed to the ICU, she finally broke. I could hear her screaming just outside the door. “It’s a fortune a day in there! You’re always clutching your chest, always saying your heart hurts. When is it ever going to be for real?” A nurse stepped out to calm her. “Ma’am, his condition is critical. A heart attack is incredibly painful. Please, this is a hospital. You need to be quiet.” Sarah’s voice cracked, thick with despair. “Easy for you to say! What if you were stuck with a brother like him?” The nurse said nothing more. The hallway fell silent. Inside the ICU, the only sound was the soft beep of my heart monitor, each beep a little weaker than the last. A moment later, I reached up and pulled the oxygen tube from my nose. Don’t worry, Sarah. This time, I’m not waking up. … The familiar, chilling sensation of death washed over me. As I closed my eyes, my soul drifted out of my body. The nurse was gone. Sarah was slumped on a bench in the hallway, her head leaned back against the sterile white wall, her face etched with a weariness that went bone-deep. I knew how tired she was. She had given me everything she had, everything she was. Even the man she’d planned to marry. I floated toward her, wanting to wrap my arms around her, to offer a comfort I never could in life. My hands passed right through her, through the wall behind her. It finally hit me. I was really dead. I couldn’t even say goodbye. Sarah rubbed the bridge of her nose and pulled out her phone. She hesitated, then opened her messages and found Mark’s name. The conversation had ended two weeks ago. Mark’s last texts were a torrent of frustration: [Sarah, how long are you going to keep putting your life on hold for him?] [My mom was already against us. Now you don't have a job. How am I supposed to explain this to my family?] Her only reply was five words: [Alex is my brother.] [So he gets to drag you down for the rest of your life?! He was your parents' kid, not yours!] Three exclamation points. Even in text, you could feel his rage. Sarah’s thumb swiped up, revealing the messages before the final blow-up. Sarah: [No one asks for a heart condition. Alex is miserable, too.] Sarah: [Mark, please, just wait a little longer. Once he’s stable, I promise I’ll make it up to you.] Mark: [I can't wait. You need to tell me right now. Are you cutting ties with Alex or not?] She hadn’t answered. Mark: [You don't expect to marry me and bring him along, do you? You think my mom would ever agree to us taking care of him?] Mark: [You sold your apartment to pay his medical bills last time. What's next? What do you even have left to sell?] Mark: [Sarah, we've been together for seven years. Is this how you treat me?] Mark: [Answer me!] She never replied. It wasn't that she was ignoring him. I remember that moment. My body had gone limp, my breath catching in my throat, the world closing in. She had been frantically searching for my medication. But Mark didn’t know that. All he knew was the silence on the other end of the line. His final message was one of defeat: [Let's break up. I can't do this anymore.] Sarah’s finger hovered over those words, her eyes turning red. I remember her breakdown that day. I was on the floor, gasping for air, my hand clamped over my chest. Her eyes were blazing as she screamed at me, “Is it not enough? When are you going to stop doing this?” “You’ve tortured me for years, you cost me my job, and now Mark is gone because of you,” she’d sobbed. “Are you happy now?” I wanted to tell her to forget me, to go to him. But the pain was a vise, squeezing the words from my throat. The panic and lack of air finally made me pass out. The color drained from her face. She scooped me up and raced to the hospital. They spent forty minutes bringing me back. But there was no relief on her face, only emptiness. Mark wouldn't answer her calls or see her. The first thing I did when I came to was grab her hand. “Sarah, stop. No more treatments. Don’t waste any more money on me.” “Go find Mark. Please, just leave me.” She froze, her gaze falling on my pale, gaunt face. Her eyes slowly filled with tears. After a long moment, she squeezed my hand, her voice softening. “I didn’t mean what I said. I was just angry. Don’t take it to heart.” And then came today. Another attack. I had tried to fight it, begged my own body not to betray her again. Don’t do this, not now. She’s already exhausted. Don’t be a burden. But the feeling of my heart seizing, the icy grip of death, ripped a cry from my lips. It hurt so much. She rushed me to the hospital, her face a mask of panic. The doctor’s verdict was the final straw: the ER couldn’t help me anymore. I needed to be in the ICU. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard those words. But it was the first time they made her shatter. Back in the hallway, Sarah’s fingers tapped out a message on her phone, a desperate plea to Mark. But she deleted it before sending. She closed her messages and opened her social media, posting a picture of the sterile hospital corridor. The caption read: [My brother is critically ill. If anyone is able to help, please, I’m begging you. If you can help me save Alex, I’ll spend the rest of my life repaying you, whatever it takes.] The post went up. Silence. Not even a single ‘like.’ Our parents were gone. The relatives who used to be close now treated my illness like a plague, avoiding us at all costs. Sarah didn’t have a wide social circle, and her old work colleagues weren’t the kind you could ask for donations. The only comments came from a few guys from her college days who’d always been jealous of her. [Isn’t that Sarah, our top scholar? Got into university with the highest score in the city. What happened, run out of money?] [Hey Sarah, I thought you landed a sweet gig at that big corporation. Making good money, right? Can't even afford to take care of your own brother?] [How much do you need for the surgery? Fifty grand? My family is looking for a new maid. Come work for us, and I’ll give you the cash.] Her expression shifted from shock to humiliation to fury. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped the phone. She had always been brilliant. Top of her class, graduated with honors, and beat out two hundred other interns for a single full-time position at a top firm. She was our family’s pride and joy. If things had been different, she and Mark would probably be married by now. But a car crash took our parents. The insurance payout was tied up in legal battles. And my medical bills were a mountain of debt. It was all because of me. Sarah raised her hand, ready to hurl the phone against the wall. But she stopped herself, her hand trembling. She sank back onto the bench, burying her face in her hands as silent tears streamed down her cheeks. She couldn’t afford to break it. A new phone was a luxury she didn’t have. In the dead quiet of the hallway, her tears hit the polished floor with a soft pat, pat, pat. Each sound was like a hammer blow to my heart. I was already dead, but somehow, it still ached. “Sarah.” A familiar voice echoed from the end of the corridor. Her head snapped up. It was Mark. His eyes were a mix of pity and frustration. She quickly turned away, wiping the tears from her face. He walked over and pressed a paper bag into her hands. “I saw your post,” he said, his voice low. “Here’s ten thousand. It’s all I have right now. Use it. For the rest… I’ll try to help you figure something out.” He turned to leave. She shot out a hand and grabbed his arm. “Where did you get this? You’ve already loaned me so much of your savings, you—” “I’m getting married.” The words sliced through the air, stopping her cold. He didn’t turn around, didn’t see the way her world tilted on its axis, the way her pupils contracted in shock. His voice was hoarse. “Don’t worry about paying me back. And… don’t come to the wedding.” He pulled his arm free and walked away. Sarah glanced from his retreating back to the closed door of the ICU. Without another thought, she gritted her teeth and ran after him. She caught up to him just outside the hospital entrance. “Give me one more chance, Mark. Please. Don’t marry someone else, okay?” she begged, her voice choked with tears. “I can’t help what’s happened with Alex. He’s my brother. I can’t just let him die, can I?” “I’ll find a better job, I swear!” He looked down, refusing to meet her eyes. “I know this is hard for you, Sarah. But it’s hard for me, too. We’re just not right for each other anymore. Let’s stop torturing ourselves.” He let out a ragged breath. “My mom gave me an ultimatum. If I get back together with you, she said she’ll kill herself.” Sarah’s face went white. “Let me talk to her. Please. Alex is a good kid, he’s so smart. If it weren’t for his heart, he would have been amazing.” Mark sighed, his voice barely a whisper. “I know.” “I really do know.” His tone… it was the same one he’d used the first time they’d broken up. I’d gone to him, crying, begging him not to leave my sister. I told him I never wanted to be sick, never wanted to be a burden. I promised I would leave, disappear from their lives forever. He had wiped my tears away and said, so gently, “I know you’re a good kid, Alex. I know.” He’d called Sarah to come get me, and they’d gotten back together soon after. But this time, though the words were the same, his eyes were filled with a bottomless despair. He pulled his hand from her grasp again. “It’s too late, Sarah. I’m engaged.” She stared at him, her mouth agape. Just as she was about to speak, her phone rang, a shrill, insistent noise. It was the hospital. They must have found me. Sarah’s jaw tightened. She declined the call. “Mark, I promise this is the last time. Just wait for me. So what if you’re engaged? I don’t care!” “But I do!” he suddenly roared, his composure shattering. “Just leave me alone, Sarah! I don’t love you anymore!” The words hung in the air, and then he practically fled. Sarah started after him, but two men in dark suits stepped out of nowhere and grabbed her. A lavishly dressed, middle-aged woman emerged from a black car parked at the curb. She seized Mark’s arm and dragged him back in front of Sarah. “Sarah,” the woman said, her voice dripping with venom. “That ten thousand dollars was from me. Mark is my son-in-law now. You can’t have him.” Sarah struggled, her eyes wild with fury. “Let him go! You monster!” The only answer she received was a flurry of kicks and punches from the two men. I watched, helpless, spinning in a frantic circle. “Stop!” Mark fell to his knees before the woman. “I’ll go with you, just stop hitting her! Please, let her go. She has nothing left!” The woman sneered, turned, and got back in the car. Mark cast one last, fleeting glance at Sarah before following. The men threw Sarah to the ground. She lay there, bruised and gasping, watching the car disappear down the street. Her phone rang again, a jarring, incessant shriek. She snatched it up and screamed into it, “Stop fucking calling me! Just do whatever you have to do! Use whatever machines, whatever drugs, just stop calling me!” With a final, guttural cry, she flung the phone, and it skittered across the pavement, the screen shattering. … That afternoon, Sarah found a job through a back-alley agency. A human punching bag at an underground fight club. A hundred dollars a session. During the interview, she was practically begging. “I can take a punch, I really can. Please, sir, can you schedule me for a few extra sessions? Thank you, sir.” The recruiter, a burly man with a crooked nose, eyed her delicate frame with a frown. “You sure about this, sweetheart? We ain’t responsible if you get messed up.” Sarah nodded eagerly. “Anything that happens is on me. I’m tougher than I look.” He grunted and slid a form across the desk. “Sign here. We’ll give you a trial run day after tomorrow. If you don’t crap out, you’re hired.” A flicker of hope lit up her eyes as she took the form. But when she reached for a pen, her smile froze. She stared at a name on the registration list, her voice trembling. “Sir… this name, Alex. When did he sign up? Is he… about twenty-five?” The man thought for a moment. “Oh, that kid? He was a liar. Came in here trying to make a quick buck, swore he was in perfect health. Didn’t last two punches before he had a heart attack on the floor. The boss had to shell out a few grand to get rid of the problem.” Sarah’s pupils dilated, her eyes instantly flooding with red. She stared at the man, her voice a raw, broken whisper. “A few… grand?” “Yeah, five thousand, I think. Can’t remember.” The application form slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the dirty floor. Two weeks ago, right after she and Mark broke up, I had given her five thousand dollars. “Three for a new phone,” I’d told her. “The other two to take Mark out for a nice dinner, a movie. Buy him a gift.” “He’ll forgive you, Sarah. I know he will.” Her face had been a cold mask. “Where did you get this money? Did you steal it?” she’d demanded. “Alex, haven’t I told you, no matter how bad things get, we don’t steal?” “I didn’t steal it!” I’d cried. “It’s money I’ve been saving up since I was a kid! From Mom and Dad, back when they were… still here. I never spent it.” She had stared at me for a long time, her expression unreadable. She took four thousand, leaving one on my pillow. In the end, she spent fifteen hundred on a second-hand phone and the other twenty-five hundred on my medication. I was furious. I asked her why she didn’t try to make up with Mark. She’d given me a bitter, self-deprecating smile. “What’s between us can’t be fixed with a few thousand dollars.” She was right. The thing between them was me. Sickly me. I felt so helpless. The only thing I could do was try not to have another attack. I locked myself in my room, didn’t see anyone, didn’t speak. I thought if I just disappeared, I could stop being a burden. I was wrong. A faulty heart doesn’t care about your good intentions. It comes for you when it wants to. Sarah stumbled out of the fight club, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow. She ran home and tore open a drawer, her hands shaking as she pulled out our mother’s gold bracelet. It was the last piece of jewelry she had left. Everything else had been sold off over the years. This one was supposed to be for her, a wedding gift from a mother she’d never see again. It should have been hers. Sarah squeezed her eyes shut, clutching the bracelet as she knelt before our parents’ portraits. “I’m sorry, Mom, Dad,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m not strong enough. I can’t take care of Alex. I have to sell your gift to pay his bills.” “All these years, I’ve felt so trapped. Because of Alex, I lost everything. I even lost Mark.” “But today… today I found out that Alex wasn’t a burden. He was fighting for us, too, in his own way.” The confession, locked away for so long, seemed to strengthen her. Her voice grew firm. “We’re family. I will never give up on him. I’ll never say those horrible things again.” “When he gets better, I’ll find a way to get him a new heart. I’ll beg, I’ll borrow, I’ll grovel before all the people who look down on me. I don’t care anymore.” She pressed her forehead to the floor in a single, solemn gesture, then got up and left the house. The bracelet sold for fifteen thousand dollars. Sarah had haggled, promising the pawnshop owner she’d buy it back someday if no one else did. She rushed to the hospital, clutching the cashier’s check, a desperate, fragile hope on her face. But when she got to the billing department, she was met with a cold stare. “Who are you paying for?” the clerk asked. “Alex,” Sarah said, forcing a smile. “The young man who was admitted to the ICU last night.” She slid the check across the counter. “Here’s ten thousand to start. I’ll pay the rest as soon as I can.” The clerk gave her a long, hard look. “You’re the woman from yesterday, aren’t you? The one who was screaming in the hallway for your brother to just die?” Sarah’s smile froze on her lips. Shame and regret flooded her eyes. “I’m sorry. I was… emotional yesterday. It won’t happen again. Could you please just process the payment for my brother?” Floating above, I sighed. The clerk sneered. “Sorry. Can’t do that.” Sarah was stunned. “Why not? Is it not enough money, or…?” “Your brother is dead.” The words cut her off. The clerk stared into her eyes, watching them widen in horror. “We tried calling you all morning. First, you didn’t answer. Then you told the nurse you didn’t care. And then your phone was off.” “You can take your money back.”
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "445997", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel