Remorse After Her Death

When I received the diagnosis report for my brain tumor, Nicole was bombarding me with texts.

"I've got a pimple. Did you add extra sugar to the juice? You're dead meat."

"Call Dr. Sarandon and drive me to the hospital in 15 minutes."

"How dare you not reply to my messages? You're done for, Amber Olsen."

Denise Sarandon was a dermatologist, and she had been my adopted sister's personal skincare doctor since she was young.

I turned off my screen and stared blankly out the window. The doctor's words kept replaying in my mind, "You have glioblastoma, and it's already at stage four. Where is your family? You should ask them to come."

In a few minutes, Nicole called me three times in a row after getting no reply from me still. I refused to pick up and silently counted down in my mind. "Three… Two… One…"

Then, my mom, Maya Conelly—who initially had me blocked on her phone—called my number.

"You've gotten bold, Amber. Nicole's been texting and calling you. How dare you not pick up her calls! She's got a pimple on her face! If you don't take her to the hospital in time, it may worsen and become folliculitis. Are you purposely trying to ruin her life?

"Don't bother coming home today. I'll take Nicole to the hospital myself. But I'm warning you—if this happens again, you might as well get out of my house!"

"Mom," I interrupted her yelling. "I'm at the hospital."

I tried to suppress my nerves and muster the courage to say, "Mom, I'm sick. The doctor says it's a brain tumor. Could you… Could you come to the hospital?"

When the doctor told me I had only six months left, I didn't feel overwhelmingly sad. In fact, I felt a little relieved.

I was relieved that I finally had a reason to reach out to my mom. In fact, I felt hopeful that maybe—just maybe—my mom might care about me for a little while.

It had been so, so long since I last contacted them.

I didn't need much love. I just wanted a little care from my mom and dad. I'm serious—I wasn't asking for a lot. Just a little would do.

The other end of the line went silent.

I silently prayed, "Please say yes, Mom. I'm begging you…"

As I had yet to get a response from her, I murmured, "Mom?"

I clenched my phone, unconsciously holding my breath as my heart pounded expectantly.

However, my mom let out a cold laugh and said ruthlessly, "Good. The sooner you die, the better. Go die somewhere far away so that I won't have to be troubled about disposing of your corpse."

For a moment, my beating heart froze. The world around me suddenly felt unreal.

It hurt. It hurt so much.

I didn't want to hear another word from her, so I switched the phone to my right ear—the ear that couldn't hear anything. This way, I wouldn't have to hear her yelling at me.

On my first birthday, I happened to take a bite of Nicole's food. My parents had beaten me until I lost hearing in my right ear.

I didn't understand. I had a brain tumor, but why did my heart feel like it was being torn apart?

In my mind, a calm voice said, "They will never love you. They only love Nicole."

…

My parents, Maya and Bryce Olsen, were straight out of a cliché romance novel. They were the secondary male and female leads who were madly in love with the protagonists, Harry Giles and Irene Sullivan, but were forced into an arranged marriage by their families.

After they got married, they grew to hate each other while waiting for cracks to form in Harry and Irene's relationship. They kept hoping for that to happen so that they could swoop in.

Unfortunately for them, their long wait was merely rewarded with news of Irene's pregnancy.

On one drunken night, they conceived me.

Maybe they finally realized that Harry and Irene's love was unshakable. Or perhaps it was because of their elders who were thrilled by my existence and kept pushing for them to reconcile. Eventually, my parents let go of their obsessions and started getting along.

After I was born, their relationship even flourished for a time. Old photos showed them looking at each other with nothing but joy in their eyes.

But that happiness didn't last long.

Harry and Irene died in a car accident, leaving only their one-year-old daughter, Nicole, behind.

There was nothing more devastating than a dead first love. In the morgue, my parents stayed beside their first loves and cried all night.

After that night, they turned against each other. Their once-deep affection became nothing but dirt beneath their feet. To them, it was a betrayal of their lost loves. They were convinced that if it weren't for their marriage, they would've been by their true loves' sides and saved them from that fatal accident.

They wished they could have left this world with them.

But there was still Nicole, who was Harry and Irene's only bloodline left in this world. She instantly became the last thing my parents could hold on to in memory of their beloved.

Harry had built a business empire from scratch, while Irene was an orphan who had no family. To prevent greedy relatives from taking advantage of Nicole, my parents pulled strings to adopt her.

They poured all their love onto her and cherished her like she was their most precious treasure.

And as for me… I ended up becoming the bad child in their eyes. I was nothing but trash that dared to compete with their precious girl for everything.