A Love Too Late

"Brandon, your brother's health is fragile. He isn't like you. You excel at painting and school, so you can easily get into a top university no matter what. That winning painting of yours, do you think maybe..."

Mom’s voice drifted lower and lower toward the end.

Yet, she stole a glance at my brother, Jordan West, who stood nearby looking frail enough to collapse at any second.

In the end, she let the rest of the words spill out anyway.

"Do you think you could give your painting to your brother? Just let him use the award to get into the arts college."

Give my painting to my brother?

I struggled to process the meaning behind Mom's words.

The lonely horror of dying all by myself in the damp basement of a psychiatric facility, left there until my body decayed without anyone ever knowing, remained etched into my very bones.

It took me a long moment to grasp the truth. I was reborn.

I was back in my senior year of high school, when there was still time to change everything.

Standing beside my brother, Dad grew furious when he saw me stay silent.

"Brandon, you’re the older brother! Can you stop being so petty? What’s the big deal about giving your painting to your brother?

"If his health wasn't so poor, do you really think he would need your stupid painting? He would’ve achieved far more than you ever could.

"Bottom line, you’re giving it up whether you want to or not."

In my past life, they said these exact same words.

They demanded I hand my painting over to Jordan.

Back then, I was driven mad with rage and flatly refused.

As a result, through their shady behind-the-scenes string-pulling, the painting ended up bearing my brother's name anyway.

Naturally, the national award that determined guaranteed college admission went straight to Jordan.

They did not even bother to inform me.

Due to that, I believed my early admission was set in stone. I stayed home relaxing for three months, completely missing the regular college application deadlines and the chance to take my final exams.

Brokenhearted, I asked my parents why they treated me like that.

They merely brushed it off. "Oh, we didn't tell you? We were probably just so busy handling Jordan's admission details that it slipped our minds."

Watching my completely indifferent parents, my heart shattered into pieces.

I knew they had not simply forgotten.

They were just terrified that if they told me, I would cause a scene and ruin Jordan's chances of getting into college.

I had no choice but to repeat my senior year.

Yet, after I finally worked my butt off to get into college, trouble struck my brother again.

He possessed zero talent for painting. At the arts university, he failed eight core courses in a row and faced immediate expulsion.

Once again, my parents brought up the same demand. They wanted me to give up the art exhibition I had spent half a year painstakingly preparing, handing it over to Jordan so he could graduate smoothly.

I refused.

So, my parents pulled their connections one more time.

Right before the exhibition opened, every single signature on my paintings mysteriously changed to my brother's name.

I suffered a full meltdown, screaming at them, "How can you be so biased? Is Jordan the only child you care about? Do you only feel happy when you take away everything that belongs to me?!"

Dad's response was a fierce, stinging slap across my face.

"Why are you so ungrateful? If your brother's health wasn't failing, preventing him from draining himself with painting and studying, he’d never need your stuff.

"You’re a selfish, ungrateful brat who refuses to share. No matter how smart or talented you are, what good is it?

"We can never rely on you for anything."

Just like that, my hard work was stolen from me again.

In my past life, it was only at the moment of my death that I finally understood.

Anything that could be stolen from you... Probably never belonged to you in the first place.

Just like that award-winning painting, my art exhibition, and my parents' love.

However, there were still things they could never take away from me.

Things like my talent and my ability to succeed.

Snapping back to reality, I lifted my eyes to look at my parents and nodded softly. "Alright. Let's give it to Jordan then."

Dad looked startled. He clearly never expected me to agree so fast.

Mom reached out and patted my shoulder, looking deeply relieved. "You’re finally growing up. You’re so understanding.

"It’s wonderful that you think this way. Brothers ought to look out for each other."

Having said their piece, they took Jordan by the hand with immense relief, heading out to a nice restaurant to celebrate.

They completely forgot that there was still another son in the house—me—the one who had just made an enormous sacrifice for their precious favorite child.