My Sister’s Leukemia Fate Chapter 2

When I arrived, they were all gathered around the dinner table, a perfect picture of family harmony.

Cobie and her husband were there, along with my younger brother, Terrence, and his girlfriend.

The wine was flowing, and laughter filled the room. They were clearly celebrating something.

My arrival shattered the idyllic scene.

The conversation died. Smiles faded from their faces, and they awkwardly lowered their glasses.

Only my mother managed a brittle laugh, feigning warmth as she pulled me toward the table.

"We thought you were busy, so we didn't call. Look at you, just in time for a feast! Sit, sit."

But she couldn't hide the stiff, distant way she touched my arm. The gesture was all politeness, no love.

A sudden, wicked impulse sparked within me.

I broke from my usual timid self and turned, gently taking the hand that was hovering over my arm.

"Mom," I said softly. "I'm sick."

Her hand went rigid in mine, but she forced a smile.

"Oh. Well, then you should eat up. A good meal cures anything."

She was already pulling away, not even bothering to ask what was wrong. As she moved a chair for me, she deftly slipped her hand from my grasp.

Terrence scowled from across the table.

"Sophie, did you come here just to ruin the mood? Every time we have something to celebrate, you show up and cast a shadow over everything."

"Cobie just got selected for an international performance tour. Don't tell me you didn't know."

I ignored him, sinking into the chair my mother had pulled out.

"...I have leukemia."

Terrence's mouth snapped shut.

My mother's hand trembled as she passed me a pair of chopsticks, and they clattered to the floor.

The silence in the dining room was so absolute you could hear a pin drop.

Her eyes welled up, and she started dabbing at them with a napkin.

From the head of the table, my father, Richard, who had been silent until now, finally spoke.

"You need to let your in-laws know," he said, his voice flat. "They can certainly afford the treatment."

He shot me a disapproving look.

"You need to handle these things with a clear head, not storm in here like this. The last thing we need is you scaring your mother into a stroke after you're cured."

My mother wiped her face and started piling food onto my plate.

"Your father's right. No matter how big the problem is, we can talk about it after you've had a good meal."

Cobie chimed in, adding a piece of chicken to my plate with a bright, girlish smile.

"Exactly. You get sick because you worry too much. Just eat more, smile more, and everything will be fine."

I didn't touch my food.

My gaze swept over each of them, one by one.

"I didn't come here to borrow money."

"I just came to ask... if Cobie would be willing to donate her bone marrow to me."

The room fell silent again.

After a long, tense moment, my father slammed his chopsticks down on the table.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

His brow furrowed into a deep, angry line.

"Do you have any idea how risky that procedure is?"

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "A small risk to save my life... isn't that worth it?"

He stubbornly turned his face away.

"We will not let your sister take that risk. Even a one percent chance is a hundred percent if it happens to Cobie."

His answer didn't surprise me.

As the second child, the one who was sent away to be raised by relatives, I knew he'd never truly welcomed my birth, nor my return to the family years later.

But my mother and sister... they had always been kinder. Or so I thought.

I turned my hopeful gaze to my mother.

She was already crying.

I looked at her, clinging to a desperate hope that this crisis might finally break through the wall of formality between us. That she might, for once, pull me into an embrace like the ones she so freely gave Cobie.

But the words that came from her, spoken through tears, were colder than any I had ever heard.

"My child," she whispered, her voice choked with a sorrow that felt utterly false. "We all have our fate. You have to accept it, no matter how unfair it seems."

She clutched at her chest, her voice thick with tragedy.

"How can you be so selfish? Just because you're sick, you want to drag your sister down with you? If I lose both of my daughters, how am I supposed to go on?"

And in that moment, I understood. She wasn't afraid of losing two daughters.

She was only afraid of losing one. Cobie.

My last flicker of hope died. I turned to Cobie herself.

Ever since I had been brought back to this house, she had treated me with a certain detached kindness. Her words were often patronizing, but I'd always chalked it up to her sheltered, privileged upbringing. At least she would tell Terrence to back off when he was bullying me.

So I held on to one final, foolish thread of expectation.

But the Cobie I saw now was a stranger. Her usual gentle demeanor was gone, replaced by a face contorted with rage.

"Sophie, you're doing this on purpose!"

She shot to her feet, her body trembling as if she had been holding back this venom for years.

"I've wanted to say this for so long! You've always held it against Mom and Dad for sending you away. That's why you've been this... this dark cloud ever since you came back, always finding a way to make everyone miserable."

"You walk around with that timid, wounded act, like you suffered so much. We all know what you're doing! You're just trying to make them feel guilty!"

Her chest heaved with emotion, as if she were the one who had been deeply wronged. She took a shaky breath, forcing down a sob before she continued.

"But there's a limit to everything! We put up with your little dramas, but this? Asking for bone marrow like it's nothing? You just want to put Mom and Dad in an impossible position!"

"If they say no, you'll paint them as heartless monsters. If they say yes, they risk losing both of us. How can you be so vicious? Why can't you stand to see us happy?"

As she spoke, she wrapped her arms around our mother, who finally broke down, weeping into Cobie's shoulder.

"Cobie, stop," my mother cried. "It's all your father's fault... he was so obsessed with having a son and a daughter, otherwise we never would have..."

She didn't finish the sentence, but everyone knew what she meant.

Otherwise we never would have had you.

Terrence stood up too, flanking our mother's other side. The three of them stood united, their eyes burning with the same shared resentment for me.

Cobie lifted her chin, striking a pose of noble self-sacrifice.

"Sophie, I won't let you hurt them. I'm telling you right now, I will not donate my bone marrow."

She held our mother tighter, a proud protector.

"This has nothing to do with them. So when the story gets out, don't you dare say they're cruel. It's me. I'm the selfish one. I'm the one who's afraid Mom will be heartbroken if she loses both of us."

"This is my decision. I refuse to donate. I'll take all the blame!"

She looked as if she were a martyr marching to her execution.

My fingers tightened around the lab report in my pocket. I couldn't help but let out a soft, humorless laugh.

After a moment, I locked my eyes on her and asked, each word deliberate and sharp.

"Are you sure? You won't donate, no matter what?"

Cobie gently wiped a tear from our mother's cheek, her expression hardening with resolve.

"Never," she said.

"If you want to blame someone, blame me. Don't take it out on our parents. I'm trying to get pregnant. I can't be expected to risk my baby's life to save yours."

Tears of bitter amusement streamed down my face. I gave her a look filled with a strange kind of pity.

"You're right," I said quietly. "You said it perfectly. You can't kill your own child just to save someone else."

Cobie, oblivious, turned back to comfort our mother, who was now sobbing uncontrollably, gasping for breath as if she were the one with the death sentence.

"It's all your fault, Richard!" she wailed, collapsing against her children. "You and your obsession with having the perfect family!"

My father, having had enough of her accusations, slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet.

He stalked over to me and pulled a thick, ornate envelope from his jacket pocket.

He threw it on the table in front of me as if I were a beggar.

"Whether you're really sick or just faking it, take this money and get out."

"If you give your mother a heart attack, don't blame me for what happens next!"

The envelope was beautifully made, clearly prepared with care.

I picked it up. On the front, in elegant handwriting, it read:

To our dearest daughter, may your tour be a stunning success. Have a wonderful time.

I let out a dry, self-mocking laugh and looked up at him.

"Giving me this money to save my life... won't that get in the way of your precious daughter's little trip?"

My father glared at me, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Don't play games with me. You're the one who can't accept her place, always demanding fairness where there is none. Fine. If you want to burn this bridge, I'll light the match."

"I never wanted another child, but you were born. I still paid to have you raised. You never went hungry, you always had clothes on your back. You should be grateful, not constantly showing up here looking for trouble."

He turned his face away, as if sealing his decision.

"I've been patient with you for your mother's sake, but you crossed a line tonight. Don't be surprised when I no longer consider you my daughter."

The eviction notice had finally been served.

The room fell silent once more.

They parted, creating a path for me to leave. Every single one of them watched me, waiting for the filth to take the handout and disappear.

In that instant, everything became clear.

No matter how much I humbled myself, I would never be a part of this family.

And frankly, I didn't want to be.

When I looked up again, the cautious, timid girl was gone.

I casually tossed the envelope in my hand and slowly rose to my feet. In my heels, I was just as tall as him.

I was no longer the little girl who waited anxiously all month for his brief visits.

I met his eyes directly and asked quietly, "Since you keep saying you never wanted me, why was I born?"

"...Did you lose control? Or am I some other man's child?"

My father's pupils contracted. He was so stunned he couldn't speak.

His lips trembled for a moment before he raised his hand to strike me.

I sidestepped, and he stumbled forward, off balance.

I jutted my chin toward my mother.

"And you."

"Stop with the crocodile tears. It's a little late for regrets, isn't it? If you didn't want me, why weren't you more determined back then?"

"What, did my father force himself on you? Are you telling me your 180-pound self couldn't fight him off?"

Her sobbing stopped abruptly.

The mask of the guilty, long-suffering mother finally cracked.

Her finger trembled as she pointed at me, her face flushed with rage.

"...You wretched creature! How could two children from the same womb be so different?"

Seeing her beloved mother insulted, Cobie burst into dramatic sobs and threw herself into her arms.

Terrence lunged at me, trying to grab my wrist.

Their partners jumped in, trying to break up the chaos.

The dining room erupted.

In the scuffle, my father's hand connected with my cheek. A sharp, stinging slap.

My head snapped to the side, and I felt a warm trickle of blood from my nose.

"Get out!" my father roared.

"From this day on, we are done! The Warren family does not have a disgraceful child like you!"

My hand flew instinctively to my stomach.

The baby was safe.

It was only then that I fully realized the profound, miraculous connection I already had with the tiny life inside me.

This was what I wanted, and I would protect it at all costs.

I lifted my head, my eyes locking onto his.

"Fine," I said, my voice steady. "You said it. I am no longer a Warren."

He shot me a look of pure disgust, his face a cold mask.

"That's right. I, Richard Warren, said it. My word is my bond."

I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

"Good. From now on, we each face our own fate. Whoever comes begging to the other is a pathetic, spineless worm."

My father's jaw tightened, but he said nothing. It was Cobie who screamed back, her voice laced with tears and hatred.

"That's right! Whoever comes begging is a goddamn son of a bitch, and I hope they rot in hell!"

"Now get out! Are you trying to kill my mother?"

A slow, satisfied smile spread across my face. I pulled the lab report from my pocket and tossed it onto the envelope on the table.

"Excellent, Cobie. Remember what you said today."

"And I don't need this money. You, on the other hand, might find it useful."