My family saw her as my savior.

At first, they despised her. But little by little, they grew fond of her.

My parents began treating her like their real daughter; Carlton Lowe, my brother, couldn't stop praising her.

Even Patrick, my fiancé, the man I grew up with, had grown incredibly close to her.

The 99th time she backed out before the procedure, my family and fiancé left me behind, running after her and comforting her.

They told me, "Maybe next time. Clara's such a gentle and kind soul. Besides, she has every right to feel afraid. Let's just wait till she's ready."

However, they didn't know I'd given up.

I didn't want her organ anymore.

And I no longer wanted them—my family, or my fiancé.

***

I survived another emergency surgery.

When I opened my eyes, I was alone in the ward.

My eyelashes fluttered. Once again, my family and fiancé had left me behind; I'd lost count of how many times they had done this.

The ping of a new text snapped me out of my thoughts.

It was my bully, Clara Simpson. She sent me a clip.

In the video, she was with my family and my fiancé. They were shopping, arms full of shopping bags from luxury brands.

Clara was beaming, not a trace of fear for the procedure in her eyes.

She said apologetically, "Thanks for being here with me. But Yvette will be disappointed when she wakes up and you're not there."

My father reassured her. "Don't worry. The doctor said she's out of the woods. Plus, the nurse's taking care of her."

My mother's voice was filled with a doting affection as she said, "Clara, you're too sweet, always putting others before yourself. We're grateful that you're donating your organ to Yvette. Keeping you company and cheering you up are the least things we can do."

Carlton blurted out, "Yvette is no longer in a critical condition. Cheering you up is our priority now. Just tell us what you want to do. We'll make it happen."

I assumed Patrick Harmon, my childhood sweetheart, would want me to go through the surgery soon and recover.

But he said to Clara, "Donating an organ is extremely risky. It's completely normal to feel scared. Don't worry. I'll be there for you."

The video ended there.

Grief washed over me.

Clara had also sent me two messages.

"Yvette, they're just grateful that I offer to donate, so they kept me company when I said I was scared."

"Don't overthink it. They love you."

Typical Clara. Always putting on a pathetic act to gain their sympathy. Then, she would flaunt it to my face to hurt me.

Ironically, my family bought it.

I bit my lower lip, streaked with tears, and typed out my reply. "Isn't this what you want? Are you happy now?"

Not long after, my family and fiancé stormed into my ward.

Without even asking how I was, my father scowled, "Did you just pressure Clara to do the procedure again?"

Carlton was upset, too. "She already said she'd do it. You should be thankful. And yet you keep pressuring her? You are so heartless!"

My mother said nothing, but the disappointment in her eyes was prominent.

"I didn't—"

Patrick cut me off as I was trying to defend myself.

Staring at me, he said sullenly, "Yvette, Clara is being kind when she offers to be your donor. Don't make it feel like it's her obligation. You have no right! Try it again, and I'll tear that donor agreement."

These were the people who mattered to me the most.

But now, they were berating me for Clara over something I'd never done.

I thought my heart had died. That I'd be numb to the heartbreak. However, it still hurt.

This was ridiculous!

They were MY parents and brother.

And I was the one Patrick grew up with.

They used to love me as if I were their everything.

And now, all that love went to Clara.

I managed a faint smile. "What if I tell you that I only have a month left unless I get the transplant?"

Everyone in the ward but me stiffened briefly.

Carlton subconsciously retorted, his voice tight, "No way."

I stared at their faces and said firmly, "I'll die unless I have the transplant. Are you going to call Clara over to do the procedure now?"

Clara walked into the ward at that moment.

As if she didn't pick up on the tension, she wrapped her arm around Carlton amicably and said, "Yvette, what are you talking about? The doctor said you had hope as long as you took your chemotherapy, remember?"

For some reason, they relaxed as they heard Clara's words.

Patrick snorted and spat, "Clara is right! You're lying just to get Clara's organ, aren't you? You've changed so much. What's gotten into you?"

"That's right. As you have to stay in the hospital, Clara has been there for us. Take care of us. You should thank her. I wish she were my sister..."

My father cut Carlton off by saying coldly, "About your condition, we know it better than anyone. It's not that bad. Be patient."

I lowered my eyes. Bitterness, resentment, and incredulity filled my heart.

I remembered how desperate they were to find a match for me when we just found out about the cancer.

But they had obviously forgotten it.

It had been only a few months. They changed. All of them.

Every chemotherapy was torturous to me. The backs of my hands were covered in pinholes and bruises. Yet, they turned a blind eye to it.

Perhaps, they had replaced me with Clara at this point.

I wasn't brave enough to ask them if that was the case, so I merely said, "Got it. I won't bring it up again."

Carlton opened his mouth to say something when Clara grabbed my hand.

"Yvette, your parents, Carlton, and Patrick have exhausted themselves because of you. I envy you for the great family and fiancé you have. Please, don't throw a tantrum again."

Her finger was digging into the indwelling needle in my hand. A glint of smugness flashed across her eyes. I saw this look before.

She looked so pleased when she came to see me lying on the floor like a rag doll after being locked in the school bathroom for over 24 hours by her minions.

The intense pain made me throw her hand off me.

It was hardly a shove. However, Clara fell to the floor heavily.

"Yvette, I'm just looking out for you. If you don't want to see me, I can go."

Like a professional actress, she already had tears rolling down her cheeks as if she had been wronged.

"What are you doing? I didn't..."

I didn't get to finish as my father slapped me across the face. Hard.

I looked at him in disbelief.

My parents had loved me too much to lay a finger on me. But he just slapped me for Clara.

Feeling guilty, my father averted his gaze and said coldly, "Stop lying. We spoiled you too much. You need to change your attitude."

His words stung, bringing tears to my eyes.

Patrick carried Clara up and scoffed, "Clara is so nice to you. Why aren't you grateful? How could you shove her? You look powerful, not like a person who is about to die at all."

With Clara in his arms, Patrick left the ward without hesitation. His venomous accusation was like a knife twisting in my heart.

Annoyed, Carlton kicked the table and shouted, "This is all your fault. Look at the mess you've made. We're nice to her because of you. Don't be an Ingrate."

Even my mother was glaring at me with a frown. "We spoiled you."

In the end, my father waved dismissively. "Never mind. Leave her here so she can think about what she has done wrong."

I sat there and stared into the space for a long time after they left.

Finally, I called for my doctor.

"Dr. Maynard, I give up on any treatments. Please keep it from my family."