The Remorse That Cracked a Family

My family and I were stranded on the mountain peak due to a snowstorm. After much delay, the rescue helicopter finally arrived. By the time my younger twin sister, Emma Lawson, and I were supposed to get on, we were told there was only room for one person.

Since I had terminal cancer, I intended to give her the spot. I was about to say something when she suddenly cried out that she felt dizzy and wouldn't let up. My whole family rushed to her, grabbing her hands and pulling her into the cabin.

With an apologetic look, my husband, Leon Ziegler, glanced at me.

"Sarah, your sister's health isn't as good as yours. We need to get her out first, so you'll have to wait for the next one," he said.

Then, my daughter, Daria Ziegler, flung a snowball at my fractured arm.

"Aunt Emma's the one who needs saving. Don't steal her spot," she said.

My parents looked down at me struggling through the snow on all fours. But all they did was hold Emma closer and tell me to wait.

All my life, they'd always made me give way to my sister. All because she had poor health and needed more love and protection. This time was no different. Even when I was covered in injuries, I still came second.

Just before takeoff, Emma pressed herself against the helicopter window, sticking out her tongue and making faces at me.

That was when it hit me—she had never been dizzy. The whole thing was just an act to get herself rescued first.

Through the heavy snowfall, I watched the helicopter vanish into the distance as tears streamed down my face.

What was the point of her charade? I would have gladly given up my place for her without the theatrics.

Even during those moments on the mountain, I'd been protecting them by keeping my cancer diagnosis hidden. I didn't want them burdened with worry over my final month.

Yet when it came down to it, they still picked Emma over me. In that case, I'd clear the path and let them focus all their love on her.

After a day of lying unconscious in the freezing mountains, a rescue helicopter finally airlifted me to the hospital. The prolonged exposure had accelerated my illness. What should have been a month to live had been cut down to just three days.

I resolved to spend those last days giving everything I owned to my family and making sure all their wishes were fulfilled. After taking painkillers, I forced myself to return home despite the pain.

When I opened the door, I found my parents gathered around the phone, speaking to Emma through a video call from her hospital room.

"Emi, tell me what you want to eat. I'll prepare it and bring it over," Mom said.

Dad chimed in, "Don't worry. I'll come keep you company later as well."

Through the video call, I saw Leon feeding Emma soup while Daria told her stories. Watching that heartwarming scene, my eyes burned red.

Even while gravely ill, I'd never received such treatment. Emma had merely staged a dizzy spell, and yet she was being cherished like this.

Mom looked up and saw me. Her smile vanished instantly, and her expression turned cold.

"You still have the nerve to come home? Emi's still in the hospital because of you. If you hadn't insisted on taking the whole family mountain climbing, would she have had to go through this?" she accused.

Dad added coldly, "You're a professional climber, but you couldn't even keep the family safe. Instead, you put us all in danger."

I listened quietly without defending myself.

They'd conveniently forgotten that Emma was the one who had thrown a fit about going to the mountain for photos. I had refused at first because of an old injury that hadn't healed.

But my parents and Leon couldn't bear to see her upset. For an entire week, they pressured me relentlessly until I gave in.

Years of experience taught me that defending myself was pointless. In this family, Emma's tears mattered more than any truth.

I was too tired to argue with them anymore, so I calmly pulled out documents I had prepared from my bag.

"Mom, Dad, I'm transferring my climbing gear business to Emma. Consider it compensation for what happened."

Both of them looked at me, puzzled by my sudden offer.

Several seconds passed before Dad's face gradually broke into a relieved smile.

Mom walked over and gently stroked my hair. It was something I'd never felt from her before.

"Sarah, you're finally thinking straight. Now you're acting like a real big sister."

Dad nodded approvingly.

"Emma's always had poor health. It's only right that you help her."

So this was what it took. I had to sacrifice ten years of my life's work to finally be considered a good sister. I looked at their relieved faces and felt absolutely nothing.