Lesson for My Saint of a Sister

When I opened my eyes again, my fingers were tightly wrapped around a bank card with frayed edges.

In the account was three thousand dollars—money I had squeezed out penny by penny from selling scraps and odd jobs after our family went bankrupt and our estate was foreclosed.

My bedridden mother would soon need this money to pay for her life-saving medicine.

“Hazel, please! My son Jeremy has to pay his school fee tomorrow. He can’t miss the deadline—his future will be ruined.

“I know you’re bankrupt, but still you’re better off than us. Three thousand dollars is a drop in the bucket for you. Call it an act of charity!”

Standing before me was my distant uncle, Uncle Jack, in his dusty gray jacket, sniffling and wailing at the top of his lungs.

He stared at the card in my hand, greed glinting in his murky eyes. He leaned forward, his hands poised to pounce and snatch it away at any given second.

Looking at his face, my mind drifted into a momentary blur.

On this exact day in my past life, when tears failed to work, Uncle Jack had resorted to brute force, shoving me violently during the struggle.

My head crashed against the doorframe, blood streaming down my face as I nearly blacked out.

Yet my dear little sister, Serena, completely ignored my blood-soaked face. Letting out a sanctimonious sigh, she slid the crimson-stained bank card from my limp fingers and handed it over to him.

She had said, “Uncle Jack, money is just a worldly distraction. Hazel clings so tightly to such earthly possessions—please don’t hold it against her. Take this to cover the tuition. Education is priceless, and we cannot let a child’s future be delayed.”

Uncle Jack showered her with endless gratitude, praising Serena to everyone he met as a living saint and a merciful soul.

Meanwhile I, the one beaten bloody trying to protect our mother’s medical fund, became the definition of a cold-blooded, heartless miser in the eyes of our relatives.

“Hazel! What are you daydreaming about? Hand me the card!” Uncle Jack lost his patience at my silence and lunged forward, reaching out toward my hand.

I snapped back to reality, my eyes turning dead cold.

Stepping back half a pace to avoid his hands, I flipped my wrist, swiftly shoving the card into my pocket and zipping it shut.

“This is for my mom’s medical bill. She needs it tomorrow. Nobody touches it.” I glared at him, my voice devoid of warmth.

Uncle Jack’s hand froze midair, his expression instantly twisting into a hideous sneer.

Just as he was about to throw a full-blown tantrum, a soft, reproachful voice echoed from right behind him.

“Hazel, how could you say something so heartless?”

I turned my head. Serena stood there in her favorite long white dress, dark hair draped over her shoulders, her unadorned face bearing an exquisitely tailored expression of gentle sorrow.

She drifted to my side, her brows delicately knit together as she looked at me with that usual, detached demeanor.

“Come on, he is in such a pitiful state, and the boy’s education is what truly matters.

“Money can always be earned back. Why do you cling so desperately to such material things? How would you sleep at night, after refusing to help our own flesh and blood?”

The exact same words, delivered in the exact same pious stance.

She was always like this—perched high on her moral pedestal, doling out generosity at the expense of others just to cultivate her saintly reputation.

In the two weeks since our bankruptcy, I had pulled three grueling shifts a day to evade debt collectors and scrape together medical funds, working myself into the ground.

And what about her? Every day, she lounged in our dilapidated rental apartment, brewing tea, reading books, and writing in her journal—waxing poetic about the cruel whims of fate while maintaining her delicate, high-born posture.

Staring at her serene, peaceful face, waves of chilling fury surged through my chest.

“You’re right. Money can always be earned back, and material wealth is just a worldly distraction.” I locked eyes with Serena, my lips curling into a smirk.

Believing I had surrendered, a flash of smug triumph gleamed in Serena’s eyes. Just as she reached out for my pocket, I caught her wrist in a grip.

I squeezed with all my might. Wincing in pain, Serena gasped, “Hazel, what are you doing? You’re hurting me!”

Ignoring her struggles, I hoisted her arm high, thrusting her wrist in the direction of our distant uncle.

Adorning Serena’s slender, porcelain wrist was a diamond-encrusted watch.

It was a birthday gift from our dad for her eighteenth birthday, before the bankruptcy—retailing at over thirty thousand dollars.

“Take a look, Uncle Jack,” I said calmly, watching as his eyes lit up in an instant. “The money in my pocket is for our sick mom. If I give it to you, she stops her treatment and dies.

“However, Serena is absolutely right. Money is just a worldly distraction, and we can’t let it get in the way of your son’s future.”

I turned to look at Serena, whose face was already draining of color, and delivered each word with deliberate precision: “Since you are so wonderfully kindhearted and treat money like filth, why don’t you pawn this watch and lend the money to Uncle Jack?

“Even on the second-hand market, this watch easily fetches over ten thousand. That won’t just cover the school fee—it’ll help with his living expenses too.”