As I was plotting how to reclaim my money, my brother Alexander called.

"Lily, I'm at Mom and Dad's. Come back for dinner. It's been ages since we all got together."

Alexander's name seemed to have been given with high hopes, while mine felt like it was chosen on a whim.

My classmates laughed and said my parents didn't love me, that they were giving all my luck to Alexander. I cried and went home, wanting to change my name, but my mom was furious, "Change your name? Even if you die, you'll be cremated with this name."

"But others laugh at me," I cried, my tears soaking my ill-fitting clothes.

My mom, indifferent to my tears, was only annoyed. "At eight years old, you're still so gullible? I've told you, your fate is bad, you're a burden. Being named Lily is supposed to let you share some of your brother's good fortune. You, a worthless girl, can't have any luck to help others. Your brother is the one with real fortune." She repeated this several times as if saying it often enough would make it true.

Finally, she couldn't be bothered with me anymore. "You're not smart, and you can't get into a good school. This afternoon, wash your brother's clothes. I need to cook for him. He needs to stay sharp."

My older brother Alexander was five years older than me. When I was in elementary school, he was preparing for his middle school exams. Mom was obsessed with his success, constantly making him special meals.

He ended up doing well, thanks to Mom's nutritious meals. He passed the threshold for self-funded schooling, and we spent 50,000 dollars on school selection fees to get him into high school.

Dad bragged to everyone about his son being a "star scholar," destined to bring glory to the family. Later on, despite Alexander's talent and our parents' unwavering support, he ended up in an ordinary technical college. Mom and Dad were still thrilled, convinced that "boys have potential, and our son will definitely achieve great things."

Alexander was quite proud of himself. He frequently mapped out my future, telling me, "You're a girl, so your IQ is naturally lower than a boy's. Even if your grades seem okay now, you'll fall behind in middle school. But girls have it easier; if you don't make it to high school, you can just get married."

I was confused and felt something was off, but I hesitated to argue, thinking maybe Alexander's luck was the reason for his success, and that's why my grades were so poor.

Middle school flew by quickly. My parents decided I was unlikely to amount to much and planned to send me to a factory to work. But since I was underage, I was sent back home. My parents were furious, "How's your brain wired? If people ask your age, just say you're an adult to avoid these issues. You're just trying to slack off and not repay us. You're a burden, not as considerate as your brother."

Maybe Alexander's luck really was that good, because suddenly I became the top student in the city, attracting offers from two prestigious high schools and earning a hefty scholarship.

Mom and Dad were ecstatic, not because of my achievement, but because my success meant they could get some return on their investment...

"Why did we bring her back? I specially prepared seafood today. That selfish girl might steal the food meant for Alexander!" Mom's voice pulled me out of my memories.

Her voice was soft but enough to shatter my last bit of hope.

"Alexander still needs 30,000 dollars for the car. If we don't give her something sweet, she might not want to borrow money for her brother," I heard Dora's voice, deliberately hushed but still audible since she was close to Alexander.

"Does she dare not help Alexander?" Dad's deep voice came through clearly, "What's she saving her money for? To make life easier for her in-laws? Girls these days are just so selfish and ungrateful."

Then I heard footsteps, indicating that the person with the phone had left the room, and Dad's voice became faint.

In the past, I'd occasionally heard such background noises during phone calls. But back then, I still held out hope. I kept believing that if I worked hard and did well, I'd gain my family's approval and love. It wasn't that I was particularly naive.

What child could easily accept that their parents didn't love them?

I always found excuses for them, helping them deceive themselves. Now that I was dying, I refused to be a pitiful soul unloved until the end. If they didn't love me, I would love myself.

"Ahem," Alexander cleared his throat, noticing my silence. "Is the signal bad, Lily?"

Lily again.

I'd always disliked that name. Before I died, I needed to change it. Otherwise, I feared I would never find peace, even in death.

I checked the calendar to see how much time I had left. There was not much time. Sorting out the money and changing my name needed to be top priorities.

"Well, I'm coming over now," I said.

When I stepped inside, the whole place reeked of seafood, but all I saw on the table was a plate of nuts, some half-cooked oatmeal, and cucumbers.

Dad looked serious, and my brother and his wife wore their usual polite, fixed smiles. Mom walked over and pulled me aside.

"I heard you weren't feeling well and even went to the hospital today. I made some oatmeal for your stomach. You know, rich food can really mess you up. Going to the hospital is such a waste of money-- money you should be saving. Don't worry, Mom will hold onto it for you."

I almost laughed at how absurd it was. A bitter wave of frustration hit me hard. Dora, Alexander's wife, had just taken their cat to the vet for days because it wasn't eating enough. And here I was, apparently not even entitled to see a doctor.

I looked down, took a sip of the undercooked oatmeal, and noticed bits of crab shell under one of the plates. My stomach churned even more.

"I have cancer."