Alone in Death

Under the sympathetic gaze of the doctor, I tilted my head back and swallowed the high-dose painkillers.

My life had entered its final three days.

Leaving the consultation room, I went to Emma's hospital room.

It was warm and peaceful inside. My mom, Marlene Smith, and my dad, Thomas Fulton, were sitting by her side, doting on her.

"Emma, try some of the cake I made."

"Drink more juice, you need the vitamins."

The moment I appeared, the atmosphere turned cold.

"What are you doing here?"

"So now you're here to bother Emma again when you can't fake being sick anymore?"

"Jasmine, we won't let you bully her anymore."

Mom stepped in front of me, her tone icy.

Dad followed, shielding Emma behind him.

"We can't believe we raised someone as petty as you. If we'd known, we never would've had you."

I gave a bitter smile. I used to argue, to shout, to expose Emma's lies. What did it get me? More favoritism for her and more blame for me. I was approaching my end; what was the point of fighting anymore?

"It's good you're here," said Dad coldly. "We need to talk."

"I'll go first," I said, cutting him off with a smile. "The company, the patents, the design drafts... Emma's always wanted them, right? They're all hers now."

They froze, utterly stunned.

"You really agree to this?"

"You're not plotting something again, are you?"

I lowered my head and chuckled. "Before, when I said no, you called me selfish. Now that I'm saying yes, you still think it's not good enough?"

For once, Mom looked pleased. "Now that's how a good big sister should act. Emma was always better at design than you in school. Once she's discharged, she'll make the company number one in the country."

I nodded silently and handed over the transfer documents.

Emma's eyes lit up. She grinned so wide her face could hardly contain it. She signed immediately, then shot me a triumphant look.

In this family, no matter how hard I worked, I was always the loser.

"Here, Jasmine, have some cake too. Emma left a small piece."

My throat tightened. I could only nod weakly.

Maybe if I gave them everything, they would finally talk to me with a smile.

I held back my tears.

I wondered… When they found out I was dead, when they learned what Emma had done, would they still be smiling?

Would they feel even the slightest bit of regret?

I discharged myself and went home.

David White, my husband, and our daughter, Betty White, were making handmade chocolates, and an apple pie was baking in the oven.

They were laughing happily, not noticing I had come in.

It was not until David washed his hands that he noticed me. His smile vanished instantly. "You should've called first."

I stared blankly at the card on the dining table.

It was made of pink paper, decorated with glitter and little stars.

Two neat lines of handwriting read:

"To the most beautiful godmother, Emma."

"To our dearest Emma, may you always be happy!"

It was signed with my daughter's name.

Beside it was David's messy but affectionate scrawl. "The apple pie I baked for you should be ready soon. No sneaking bites!"

I only found out David could cook when I was dying.

While I was alive, I worked myself to the bone providing for this family, handling the money, the meals, the house…

All I got in return was criticism and disdain.

Before, I would have broken down, demanded answers, or picked a fight.

At this point, I said nothing. I just went to the bedroom and began packing my things.

"Jasmine, there's something I need to discuss with you. It's... about your sister, Emma."

David came to speak with me. "After her surgery, Emma's health has been really weak. My parents found a fortune-telling master back home. He said Emma has to get married to recover. They haven't found a suitable guy on short notice, so... they want me to marry her first. They think it'll help her get better…"