I was being brought back to the family home, and the girl who had taken my place was dying. My parents never left her side. My brother blamed me for coming back and upsetting her. My husband was her doctor, and even in the middle of our cold, mechanical lovemaking, he would leave at the sound of her voice. I had tolerated her, made excuses for her, given way to her every whim. But this time was different. She had pushed me down the stairs on our wedding anniversary, on purpose. As they loaded me into the ambulance, my husband was still defending her. "She’s just a kid, Nora. Don't be mad at her. She'll feel so guilty." He wiped a tear from my cheek. "Don't cry. I'll save you. You're going to be fine." Then his voice hardened slightly. "But after this, you need to think about your own actions. You're so healthy. You shouldn't be flaunting it in front of her, upsetting her like that." He was my surgeon. He put in a few sloppy stitches, then rushed off to comfort the crying imposter my family had called him to see. And in that moment, something inside me finally broke. "I'm in so much pain," I told the System. "I don't want to play this game anymore. I want to go home." In seven days, I would die from a massive hemorrhage caused by his shoddy surgical work. And they would have to live with the regret for the rest of their lives. * 1 No one came to pick me up from the hospital. After waiting for hours, I finally sent a message to the family group chat, letting them know I was being discharged. A long time passed. Half a day. Finally, a notification. It was my brother, Leo. Leo: K. That was it. Silence. Ten agonizing minutes later, my phone buzzed again. It was my mother. Mom: Nora, sweetie… can you find your own way home? We're a little tied up right now. Then, a message from *her*. From Ivy. Ivy: Oh, Nora, don't bother them! They just got back from taking me on vacation. They're exhausted from the flight, and we have to go to the hospital for my check-up. And then, a message from my husband, Dr. Julian Vance. Julian: Nora, I'm Ivy's doctor. I'm responsible for her follow-up. I can't take the day off. Just grab a cab. Call me if you need anything. I had typed out a message: *Can just one of you please come get me?* I stared at the words on the screen, then deleted them, one by one. I knew the truth. When it came to me versus Ivy, I would always be the second choice. For years, Ivy had treated her own life like a game, threatening to stop her medication one day, claiming she wanted to die the next. And Julian, my brilliant, dedicated husband, would chase after her, tirelessly pulling her back from the brink. It had become their routine. "Ivy," he would tell her, his voice a low, intense murmur. "You're not allowed to die on my watch. I don't care how much you try to self-destruct. I have a thousand ways to keep you alive." 2 That night, I was running a bath when Julian came home. I was undressing, my hand tracing the angry red line on my chest, when he wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips on the back of my neck. "Darling," he murmured. "Still not in the shower? Were you waiting for me to wash you?" He gently turned me to face him, his fingers already working at the buttons of my shirt. "Your stitches… you shouldn't get them wet. Let me help." His hands stopped when he saw it. The ugly, puckered scar on my chest. I shoved him away. "Don't touch me!" He looked surprised, then chuckled, thinking I was misinterpreting his intentions. "You have a dirty mind, you know that?" he teased. "I'm not a complete animal. I'll wait until you're healed. Then I'll collect my payment, with interest." "I don't want you to wash me," I said, my voice flat. He raised an eyebrow. "Still mad at me? Fine. Take it out on me. But don't blame Ivy. She's just a kid, Nora. Don't hold it against her. She's so sick. She's miserable." I couldn't help but laugh, a bitter, broken sound. "In case you've forgotten, Julian, your 'kid' is the exact same age as me. She's miserable? What about me? Did it ever occur to you that when I fell down those stairs, I could have died?" He frowned. "Don't be dramatic, darling. You're fine. And your wound… I stitched it up myself, didn't I?" He smiled, a flash of his old, confident charm. "You're healthy. You're not going to die. You just overthink things. Trust my work. I won't let anything happen to you, okay?" I looked down at the jagged, uneven line of stitches and fought back tears. "You made me ugly, Julian. You know how much I hate being ugly." He sighed, a long, weary sound. "Ivy called me right before your surgery. She was hysterical, threatening to kill herself. I had to go to her. You know that, right? I don't regret it. If I had been one minute later, she would be dead." He cupped my face in his hands. "And you… you need to stay away from her. Don't provoke her. She's already been through so much. She has a temper. She could hurt you again, and that would break my heart." He stroked my cheek. "She's not like you, Nora. She's dying. She's pitiful. Just… let her have this, okay? If you need to be angry, be angry with me. Tonight, in bed, you can punish me however you want." He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned my head away. The way he was with her… it was different. And in that moment, I had nothing left to say. 3 The funny thing is, Julian and I met in college. And he was the one who fell for me first. His family was practically medical royalty. Generations of brilliant doctors, a prestigious private hospital bearing their name. And Julian was the crown prince. A child prodigy, a state scholar who went straight from his undergrad to a Ph.D. program at a top university. He was beautiful, in a cool, detached sort of way. A picture of him in his white coat went viral online. Everyone said that for a man who seemed so emotionless, he was hopelessly in love with me. They said marrying him was a once-in-a-lifetime stroke of luck. In college, when I dropped our promise ring in the campus lake, he dove in after it without a second thought. When I got a paper cut, he'd fuss over it for days. I used to stay up late, a bad habit that sometimes made my chest ache. He was terrified I was going to die young. At 11 PM on the dot, he'd confiscate my phone. If I protested, he'd pin me to the bed, his voice a low growl. "I heard about a method to help people sleep. It's called… marital duties. We could try it. Or, you could be a good girl and go to sleep before I make you cry." Once, I had to have a minor surgery. He was more nervous than I was. He held my hand before they wheeled me in, his voice soft and reassuring. "Don't be scared. It's just a little monster we have to fight. I'll be right here. Always." When we fought, he was always the first to apologize. "Nora, please talk to me. If you're unhappy, I'm unhappy. I can't stand it when you're mad at me." I thought he would always choose me. As long as he chose me, I could survive in this world. But then, he became Ivy's doctor. He didn't care what time I went to bed anymore. He was too busy. Busy reading bedtime stories to Ivy over the phone, his voice a low, soothing murmur until she fell asleep, no matter how late it was. I'd sit next to him, watching him smile at his phone, the familiar ache in my chest a dull, constant throb. "Julian," I'd whisper, tugging on his sleeve. "It's late. Let's go to sleep." He'd press a finger to his lips. "Shh. Ivy's not asleep yet." And now… now he would rather I hate him than hold a grudge against her. *I don't want to play this game anymore,* I told the System. *I want to go home.* *Are you sure, Host?* the System replied. *In this world, you have a family. A husband. If you succeed, you can stay here forever.* *I'm sure,* I said. The mission was simple. All I needed was for one person, just once, to choose me over Ivy. I had been so hopeful, so confident. I had tried so hard to please them, remembering their birthdays, their favorite foods, their little quirks. I thought if I was just sincere enough, they would love me back. But in the end, no one came. My family, my husband… they always chose her. This time, next time, every time. I think it's time for me to go home. Back to my real home. The System sighed. *Host, when Ivy pushed you down the stairs, you sustained severe internal injuries and massive soft tissue damage. In seven days, your stitches will rupture, and you will die from a massive hemorrhage.* Just as it said, a network of pain spread through my body. I wonder, I thought, a strange sense of calm washing over me. I wonder what his face will look like when he realizes that I died from a surgery performed by his own genius hands. 4 The next morning, we were all having breakfast together. My family and my husband, all gathered around Ivy. "Mom, you won't believe how bad Leo's photography skills are," she was saying, giggling. "He took hundreds of pictures of me on our trip, and only a few are usable. It's a good thing I'm so photogenic. Anyone else would have looked terrible." "Hey, I tried my best," Leo said, ruffling her hair. "You're the one who kept demanding more pictures." Ivy was glowing, her cheeks flushed with color. I, on the other hand, looked like a ghost. Even Leo, who usually ignored me, frowned when he saw me. "Nora, you're so pale. Are you okay?" Before I could answer, Ivy snorted. "Oh, Leo, don't pay any attention to her. She's always faking sick to get attention. She's probably just being dramatic." Julian looked at me, a flicker of concern in his eyes, but Ivy immediately recaptured everyone's attention. "Ugh, pasta again? I want a burger and fries tomorrow. Freshly made!" "You know you can't have greasy food with your heart condition," Leo chided. Ivy stuck her tongue out. "What's the worst that could happen? I have my own personal doctor right here. He won't let anything bad happen to me, right?" Julian looked at her with a fond, exasperated smile. "You can have a little taste. But that's it." "You're no fun," she pouted, but it sounded more like flirting than complaining. Julian had bought a house just down the street so he could be closer to her, to monitor her condition. He designed every one of her meals himself. He placed a piece of shrimp on her plate. "Ivy, you need to listen to me. What you did to Nora was wrong. You need to apologize." Ivy's face fell. She slammed her chopsticks on the table. "Why should I apologize to her? She was in my way! She deserved it!" Julian didn't get angry. He just coaxed her, his voice gentle. "Be good. Just say you're sorry. See that apple on the table? Just hand it to her and say 'I'm sorry.' And then you two can make up. Nora is very understanding. She'll forgive you." The next thing I knew, Ivy had snatched the largest apple from the bowl and hurled it at my face. It hit me squarely in my right eye. A sharp, blinding pain shot through my head. This was their pattern. Ivy would lash out, Julian would patch me up, and the whole family would tell me not to be so lively and healthy in front of her. My good health was an insult to her sickness. "Fine!" Ivy screamed, her eyes filling with tears. "I'll apologize! I'm sorry! I'm the one who should be sorry for being sick, for dying! I'll just stop my medication tonight, how about that?!" In an instant, they were all hovering over her. "Silly girl, we were just teasing you," Leo said, rubbing her back. "Don't say such things!" my mother cried. "I can't lose you!" "Okay, okay, no apology," Julian said, frantically wiping her tears. "Just don't stop your medication. Please." It was always like this. I clutched my throbbing eye, a silent observer in my own home. Finally, Julian remembered me. "Nora," he said, his voice strained, "I'll put some ice on that for you later. It'll be fine." For a second, a flicker of hope. We had been together for five years. Maybe, just maybe, he still cared. But then he added, "Can you stop being so selfish for a minute and help me calm her down? She's threatening to stop her medication because of you." And just like that, the hope died. I started to laugh, a hollow, self-mocking sound. How could I have been so stupid? I stood up, my voice dripping with an icy calm I didn't know I possessed. "Fine," I said. "I'll calm her down." I looked at Ivy, my one good eye burning with a cold fire. "This is what, the third time this week? You're all talk, Ivy. You say you want to die? You say you're going to stop your medication? Then do it." I leaned forward, my voice rising to a shout. "If you really want to die, then just do it!"
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "385256", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel