His Countdown Ended, but I Died

I suddenly felt my body become weightless. I looked through the old, weathered wooden door panel and saw the warm light in the living room.

Mom and Dad, Linda Mills and Frank Nash, were sitting close to Eli Nash, my elder brother, on the couch. Mom gently patted Eli's back, while Dad kept his head lowered, his shoulders trembling slightly.

Eli wore his only new tracksuit, which was pale blue with a few small star emblems embroidered on the chest. He looked exceptionally pale under the light, his lips almost entirely devoid of color.

He asked softly, his voice thick with a nasal tone, "Is Ash really fine, Mom and Dad? I heard him crying out that his head was hurting…"

"You should just leave him be," Dad said.

Mom agreed with Dad's sentiment. She reached out to tenderly caress Eli's cheek, tucking away the loose strands of hair from his forehead. "Your father is right, Eli. He clearly doesn't have a fever. He's just pretending to be sick to gain sympathy. You have only one day left until you…"

Mom stopped mid-sentence, choking back a sob as her eyes welled up with tears. "You should just look forward to your birthday tomorrow with peace of mind—don't let him ruin your mood."

Eli pursed his lips and remained silent, though his brows furrowed deeper.

I knew he had always felt guilty toward me. After all, for as long as I could remember, all of the family's affection had been poured into him. I had to stare longingly just to get a bite of bread pudding, let alone new sneakers or a new basketball.

Eli, however, would always secretly slip his snacks to me, swap the large sneakers Mom and Dad bought him for a smaller size for me to wear, and always be the first to stand up and protect me whenever Mom and Dad scolded me.

He always said, "I'm sorry, Ash. It's all because of me that you've been mistreated."

Mom and Dad didn't see it that way, though.

Mom sighed, looking at Eli with a gaze full of tenderness and sorrow. "You ought to stop defending him, Eli. That brat has been jealous of you since he was young and couldn't bear to see you doing well. Have you forgotten what happened on your 14th birthday?"

It was during Eli's 14th birthday that I fully grasped the truth that Eli would die. That day, Mom and Dad unprecedentedly bought a cream cake, which had 14 slender candles stuck into it.

Mom carefully lit the candles while Dad held the old camera that had been around for years, wanting to capture one of the few birthdays Eli would have in his life.

I hid behind the door and looked on—at the candlelight glowing on Eli's face, at him closing his eyes to make a wish, and at Mom and Dad trying desperately to hold back their tears.

I rushed out just then. I didn't know what I was thinking back then—maybe it was jealousy, or maybe I just couldn't accept the reality that Eli, who was always so gentle to me, was going to leave.

I overturned the cake with a single push, sending the cream splattering across the floor and the candles rolling into the corner, where they quickly died out.