The Winds of Lake Tahoe Never Reach Me

After living in this rundown apartment for three years, I finally took a good look at it.

The wall paint was peeling off patch by patch, revealing the gray-white concrete underneath. The curtains were washed stiff, their corners carrying stubborn mold stains that could never be cleaned away.

The old air conditioner overhead buzzed and rattled, blowing nothing but hot air. But the worst part was the smell—a constant mix of disinfectant, painkillers, and the metallic stench of blood I coughed up, which never dissipated.

Yet my family was far from poor.

After our parents died in a car accident, they left behind a large inheritance. With it, my eldest brother, Chester Conway, started his own company, and my second brother, Milford Conway, became a well-known designer in the industry.

Both of them were highly successful and had purchased a luxury penthouse in the city center. The adopted girl, Lena Conway, had her own study and music room, and even her dolls and merchandise had a dedicated space.

When they kicked me out, Chester had simply said, "It's just for a few days. No need to rent anything too nice. Once the surgery is over, we'll come pick you up and take you home."

But I waited day after day, for three whole years. Not only did they never come to take me home, but I never even got that life-saving surgery.

A sharp wave of pain suddenly flared in my stomach. I rushed into the bathroom, leaning over the sink to vomit a mouthful of blood.

When I came back out, the lights in the living room looked blurry. The three plush dolls were still sitting on the sofa, staring at me innocently with their round eyes.

An intense wave of grievance washed over me. I snapped, "What are you looking at? Weren't you the ones who didn't want me first?"

I walked over, just about to pack the dolls away, when I suddenly received a text message.

Chester: [Vicky, come home in a bit. We have something to discuss.]

I stared blankly at the word "home." My heart, which had already sunk to the bottom, stirred with hope once again. Maybe they still remembered me.

I hurried downstairs. Feeling that the bus was too slow, I spent money luxuriously for the first time and called a cab.

When I pushed open the front door of the house, the living room was filled with lively noise. Chester, Milford, and Collin Marks were all there, surrounding Lena in the center.

In front of her sat four beautifully wrapped gift boxes.

Chester stroked her hair, his voice soft. "Lena is 19 today. She's all grown up now."

Milford smiled. "Grown up? She will still be our little princess even when she turns 80."

He then teased her. "Don't you like me the most?"

Before she could answer, Collin chuckled. "She definitely likes me the most. Have you forgotten how she used to follow me around as a kid?"

Lena blushed at his words, and the entire living room erupted into a wave of laughter. I stood in the hallway, looking like an intruder who had mistakenly wandered into someone else's home.

Chester finally noticed me, the smile on his face fading slightly. "Vicky, you're back."

The laughter stopped abruptly.

Lena glanced at me, picked up her gift boxes, and went back to her room. The three guys looked at me with varying degrees of awkwardness.

Milford finally broke the silence. "Why are you just standing there? Come over and take a seat."

Without a word, I walked over and sat on a sofa at the very edge.

Chester cleared his throat. "We called you back today because we have something to discuss."

He pulled out a document from beneath the coffee table and pushed it in front of me. "Take a look. If there are no issues, sign it."

I looked down at the file. On the first page was a line of bold, black text: [Voluntary Waiver of Living Kidney Transplantation].