The memories of our twelve years together, studying side by side, chasing after our favorite stars, running beneath golden sunsets, laughing and crying in each other’s arms, swearing to grow old in the same nursing home, had been tossed away like yesterday’s trash.
Photos she once vowed to cherish forever had been wiped clean, erased without a trace.
Tears blurred my vision as agony twisted deep inside me.
I couldn’t understand. How could a bond so close shatter overnight?
By chance, my trembling fingers tapped into their private group chat, only to be met with a cold, undeniable truth.
A kidney transplant agreement.
My breath caught in my throat. My pulse pounded against my skull.
The recipient's name was Juliette.
The original donor was me.
But now, the name had been replaced. Amara Murphy.
A shudder ran through me. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. My fingers instinctively pressed against the scar on my lower back as if that alone could stop the wave of nausea crashing over me.
Years had passed, yet the pain felt as raw as the day it was carved into my flesh, a blade twisting all over again.
A sudden thought struck me, and I scrolled frantically through the chat history.
Then, I saw it.
A single message from my brother.
[Back then, during the villa fire, Amara risked her life to carry me out while I was unconscious. For the rest of my life, she is my everything. I would sacrifice anything to fulfill her every wish.]
She was his life. His everything.
Then what was I?
I was the one crushed beneath the falling beams, ribs snapping under the weight. The one who bore the searing kiss of the flames, leaving my back wrinkled and scarred beyond recognition.
Did any of that matter to him?
A bitter chuckle escaped my lips as I slowly set my phone aside and sank onto the bed, laughter spilling through my tears. It was laughable, really, how pain could be so easily forgotten when it didn’t belong to them.
After a long while, I wiped my face dry, my fingers steady as I scrolled through my contacts and found a long-buried name.
"Professor, can I still participate in the secret international drug research project?"
The reply came instantly.
"Of course. I've always admired your talent and integrity. I know the rumors online are false; don’t let them shake you. However, this project is classified, the duration was uncertain, and your identity must remain confidential. You should discuss it with your family first."
A faint smirk curled my lips. Family?
"There’s no need. Please help me erase my identity."
A brief pause. Then, a single-word response.
"Understood."
"What do you mean by 'erase your identity'?"
The voice startled me. The door had been pushed open, and my brother stood there, his expression flickering with unease.
I turned to him, my face unreadable. "My ID is expiring. I need to get a new one."
Relief washed over his face. He carefully blew on the oatmeal he had brought before scooping up a spoonful and holding it out to me.
"You're still recovering. If you need anything, just tell me. We're family; don’t worry about bothering me."
Family?
Not for much longer.
Beside him, Juliette stirred awake, hesitation flickering in her eyes before she spoke. "Camila, my wedding with your brother is coming up soon. Since you haven’t fully recovered, about the bridesmaid…"
I didn’t need to hear the rest. I already knew.
"Ask Amara to take my place. She’s more suitable than me."
In their chat history, they had long since arranged for a world-renowned designer to create a bridesmaid dress worth billions, crafted solely for Amara, complete with a dazzling set of jewelry. The ensemble outshone even the bride’s gown, yet Juliette was perfectly content to be overshadowed.
My response made them both light up with joy.
My brother beamed at me. "Camila, you've really become more sensible."
Juliette squeezed my hand tightly. "Camila, even if you can’t be my bridesmaid, you’ll always be my best sister, my only best friend."
Lies. Every word was a fabrication.
I pulled my hand away and shut my eyes.
I no longer wanted this family.
I no longer wanted any of them.
A week later, the wedding unfolded at a luxurious seaside hotel. The waves whispered against the shore, oblivious to the deceit laced within the celebrations.
Amara stood at the heart of the crowd, radiant in her exquisite bridesmaid dress, basking in admiration. Every eye was drawn to her, just as planned.
The moment she spotted me approaching in my wheelchair, she hurried over, her expression painted with false concern.
"Sis, how are you? I heard your injuries were really serious. Your intestines even spilled out! I was so worried about you!"
