Before Ethan Miller was born, I was the little treasure that Mary Miller held in her hands, afraid I might slip away, and cherished in her mouth, afraid I might melt.

Just because I accidentally fell off the couch while playing, Mary covered the entire house with soft carpets.

Later, when I fell in love with swinging, she set up a small swing set on our balcony just for me.

Mary told me:

“Sophie Miller, remember this—no matter where or when, Mom will always love you.”

So, even after Ethan was born, I never doubted whether Mary’s love for me would change.

Until Ethan was diagnosed with kidney failure. The mother who once cherished me beyond measure gripped my arm with a twisted face.

“Give your kidney to your brother, will you? He’s still so little—I can’t live without him.”

Thinking of how good she had been to me, I nodded through tears. I believed that as long as I gave my kidney to Ethan, the mother who once loved me would return.

But when the doctor said my condition was poor and warned her to prepare herself, she only asked:

“Doctor, I just want to know—how is my son?”

My eyelids felt as heavy as lead, my incision ached faintly, but the pain in my chest was worse.

Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes. I remembered how, when I was wheeled into the Operating Room, Mary held Ethan’s hand, soothing him again and again:

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, the surgery will be quick and painless. Once you’re better, Mommy will take you to the Amusement Park.”

From the other bed, I forced my eyes wide open, greedily watching the scene.

Ethan had been born five years ago. At first, Mary told me his birth was just an accident, that her love for me would never lessen because of him.

I believed her, but I couldn’t ignore the joy in her eyes when she looked at him.

Mary had many siblings, and because her parents could never treat each child fairly, she insisted after marriage that she would only have one child.

“What’s wrong with a daughter? Who says only boys can carry on the family name? A daughter can do the same.”

More than once, I thought—if only I had been born a boy.

When I was born, my grandparents were disappointed and repeatedly urged Mary to have another child. But she stood firm, and their resentment extended to me.

David Miller and Mary argued many times over children, but she never gave in. Whenever I felt guilty, Mary would hold me gently and soothe me:

“Sophie, you are all I need.”

So when Ethan was finally born, I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking no one could ever use this issue to hurt her again.

But day by day, Mary became increasingly partial. Her gaze fell more and more on Ethan, while what belonged to me grew smaller and smaller.

Until Ethan developed kidney failure.

I didn’t know it then. One day, I came home to find the house empty. I sat on the swing reading when I heard commotion in the hallway. The door opened, and Mary entered, clutching Ethan with red-rimmed eyes.

We locked eyes. My heart skipped.

“Mom, what happened?”

Mary suddenly rushed forward and slapped me across the face. I froze in place.

“Your brother is like this, and you still have the mood to swing? How did I give birth to such a cruel daughter!”

She roared, grabbing scissors and hacking at the swing ropes. I cried out, trying to stop her.

“Mom, don’t… Mom!”

The noise woke Ethan in her arms. He began wailing. Mary’s grip loosened, and the scissors dropped onto my foot, cutting a bloody hole.

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.

“Mom, you don’t have to do this. I’m willing to save Ethan.”

At my words, Mary visibly relaxed. She released me and hurried back into the hospital room.

“Good. Go ask the doctor when the surgery can be scheduled. I need to stay with Ethan so he won’t be scared.”

Watching her back, tears broke free again.

Mom, I’m scared too.

When Dr. Brown heard my request, he looked shocked, carefully choosing his words.

“Your brother’s kidney donor isn’t that hard to find. It’s just that this hospital doesn’t have one right now. Other hospitals might. Are you sure you want to donate so quickly?”

I stayed silent, so he continued earnestly:

“Most donors are deceased. You’re still young. Losing a kidney will affect your future health.”

I forced a smile.

“My brother is young too. I don’t want him to suffer for so long. Doctor, please—when can the surgery be arranged?”

Dr. Brown sighed and agreed to check Ethan’s condition first.

Inside, Mary was tenderly coaxing Ethan to sleep, her gaze soft in a way I hadn’t seen directed at me for a long time.

“Doctor, since we have a match, when can we do the surgery?” she asked eagerly after his examination.

“His condition is stable. You could consider waiting for another donor. After all, your daughter is still very young—”

Mary cut him off, yanking me closer.

“Doctor, my son can’t wait! He’s so little. Why not use this kidney now that it’s available?”

Her nails dug into my skin. I didn’t even flinch.

As they argued, my eyes fell on the nightlight beside Ethan’s bed.

I had one just like it. Mary bought it for me the day I learned to sleep alone, saying it would stand in for her.

But when Ethan saw it, he wanted it too. I was afraid he’d break it, so I refused.

He grabbed at it anyway. The lamp toppled onto the carpet. As his hand reached for it, I yanked the carpet away. He fell backward, hitting the floor hard.

Mary walked in at that exact moment. I was still picking up the lamp when she rushed over, snatched it from me, and smashed it on the floor. The pieces scattered everywhere.

She scooped up the crying Ethan and stormed out, leaving me alone.

Later, she sold all the carpets she once laid down for me—just to buy Ethan a new nightlight.

Standing barefoot on the cold floor afterward, I felt the same chill that now froze my heart.

I thought my heart had already shattered like that lamp. I hadn’t expected her words could still hurt me so much.

When I came back to myself, Mary’s persistence had already won. Dr. Brown and she set a date for surgery. He gave me a sympathetic look before leaving.

Mary tucked Ethan in tenderly, then turned to me. A spark of hope flickered in my chest.

“Get plenty of rest these days. Staying up late isn’t good for your kidney. We can’t risk anything with the one you’re giving your brother.”

The light in my eyes dimmed again. I gave a bitter smile. What was I even hoping for?