Mary squatted on the floor holding Ethan and burst into tears.
The sound of mother and son crying together made me forget my own pain. I forced myself to take Ethan gently from her arms and soothe him.
When Ethan finally fell asleep, I carried him back to his room, then dragged my injured foot back to Mary.
She sat collapsed on the floor, eyes empty. I leaned closer nervously.
“Mom, what happened?”
Mary looked at me, then seized my hand tightly.
“Your brother is sick. Stop going to school—come home and help me, okay?”
The news struck me dumb. I couldn’t respond right away.
Seeing me silent, Mary shoved me hard. I fell to the ground as she scrambled for her phone.
“You ungrateful child! That’s your brother! Even if you don’t want to, it doesn’t matter—I’ll call your teacher right now!”
I stared at her frantic figure, stunned. From that day, the sky in our home collapsed.
Ethan’s kidney failure required dialysis every month. Too young to describe his pain, he could only cry bitterly.
Not to mention the staggering medical costs. Watching his thin little face, I couldn’t bear it. I returned to school, packed my belongings, and filed for leave.
I still held onto hope—one day, once Ethan recovered, I could return and continue my studies.
But his illness was worse than I imagined. Kidney failure was difficult to treat, and only a transplant could save him. And being so young, he couldn’t withstand long-term treatments.
One day, as Ethan cried hoarse from pain again, Mary pulled me aside.
Before I could ask, she dropped to her knees with a thud. I jumped in shock, trying to pull her up, but she clung to me.
“Promise me—you’ll save your brother, won’t you? He’s so young!”
She wept, almost bowing her head to the ground.
I knelt with her, panicked.
“Mom, I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes. Please, just get up.”
She stopped, and I helped her rise. From her pocket, she pulled out a report.
A chill spread through me. When I saw it, I froze, as though plunged into ice water.
It was a kidney match report between Ethan and me—99.99% compatible.
The date? The very day Ethan was diagnosed.
So, she had already planned to sacrifice me to save him.
I gave a bitter laugh, meeting Mary’s bloodshot eyes, my own vision blurring with tears.
“Mom…”
My voice cracked. I folded the report and handed it back.
She glared, thinking my hesitation was refusal.
“That’s your brother! You can’t just watch him die! You promised me!”
She started to kneel again.
“Give your kidney to your brother, won’t you? He’s still so young—I can’t live without him.”
I caught her just in time, closing my eyes.
Memories of her flooded my mind.
I thought of how she used to call me “Sophie.” After Ethan was born, she rarely used that name for me anymore. The last time was when boiling water spilled on me, and she treated my burns.
Holding back tears, I refused to let them fall.
