They Never Loved Me

My parents were away on a business trip, leaving me and my little brother, Mark, to fend for ourselves. We decided to kill time with a game of Something You Don't Have.
I smiled, laying my palm flat on the table. “Mom baked me a birthday cake from scratch.”
Mark just shrugged, casually folding one finger down. “My name is on the deed to the house.”
I froze.
He pressed his advantage, a smug grin spreading across his face.
“And I’m the sole beneficiary on all of their life insurance policies.”
My hand hovered in mid-air, fingers stiff. My mind went completely blank, the next sentence I’d been about to say catching in my throat.
What I had wanted to say was that I have cancer.
And I probably don’t have much time left.

1
“What, you don’t believe me?”
Mark scoffed, sauntering over to the safe. He pulled out two official-looking folders and a stack of printed contracts, laying them all out neatly in front of me.
“See for yourself, genius.”
My hands trembled, but I opened them.
The three-bedroom house we were living in, the old cottage out in the country, and more than a dozen insurance policies.
Mark Miller’s name was on every single one.
And me, Abby Miller, I was nowhere to be found in that thick stack of documents. Not a ghost of a mention.
“So? Looks like you lose this round, huh?”
Mark crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair like a king on his throne.
He was right. I had lost.
I didn’t even know the combination to that safe.
But he had opened it without a second thought.
“Cat got your tongue? You’re not gonna play your next card?”
He waved a hand in front of my face, still waiting for me to continue the game.
I closed the folders and stacked the contracts one by one, my voice a dry rasp. “Fine. You win.”
Before this moment, Mark and I had a lifetime of sibling rivalry under our belts, a war of attrition where he never seemed to gain any ground.
Mom always had my back. “Abby’s a girl, Mark,” she’d say. “A gentleman always lets the lady have her way.”
So, I always got the first pick of snacks, the first choice of games.
I even had the biggest bedroom in the house.
Growing up, Mark would constantly whine in my ear, “Mom and Dad are so biased. You’re the only one they really love.”
All these years, I’d basked in that favoritism while secretly feeling a pang of guilt for my brother.
So even when he’d tell me to drop dead, I’d just brush it off as him blowing off steam.
But now, I really was dying.
Just last month, I was diagnosed with late-stage cancer.
The doctor told me it had already spread. Surgery was off the table; there was no chance of success.
All I had left was to live out my remaining time as comfortably as possible, to manage the pain.
Because I truly believed my parents “loved me most,” I couldn’t bear to tell them the truth about my illness.
I’d planned to use their business trip as an opportunity, to use this silly game as a way to gently break the news to my brother—the one person I thought hated me most.
But now… now I didn’t want to say a thing.
Mark cleared his throat. “You don’t have to give up so fast. You’ve still got three fingers left.”
I just smiled and shook my head. “I’m done. It’s getting late. We should get some sleep.”
He noticed the shift in my mood, his tone turning contemptuous. “Hey, don’t tell me you’re actually going to go kill yourself over this.”
“If you do, make sure you do it somewhere else. I don’t want it coming back on me.”
It was his typical way of talking, something I’d grown used to.
But hearing that word—kill—this time, my nose stung, and my eyes began to burn against my will.
I paused, saying nothing as I walked straight to my room.
Just as I reached the door, I heard his voice again. “There’s one more thing I didn’t tell you. Do you want to—”
“No.”
I didn’t turn around, forcing a calm smile.
“I don’t want to hear it. Just go to bed, Mark.”
I quietly shut the door behind me and pulled out the bucket list I’d made a few days ago.
Climb a mountain to see the sunrise together. Take one last family photo. A trip to the beach…
All these things I wanted to do with my family before I died. Was there even any point now?
I fought back the searing sting in my eyes, stubbornly refusing to let a single tear fall.

2
At one in the morning, my body ached so intensely that sleep was impossible.
Wiping the cold sweat from my forehead, I decided to look for some painkillers in Mom’s drawer.
It was where she always kept her medicine, but now, tucked inside, was a diary I’d never seen before.
The cover was yellowed with age, the handwriting unmistakably hers.
“My sweet Mark smiled for the first time today. His eyes are like little stars, so full of love.”
“Mark has a fever again. His father and I stayed up all night watching over him. Our hearts are breaking…”
I flipped through page after page, but my name was nowhere to be found.
It wasn't until the very last few pages that I finally found a mention of me.
“Mark is starting to fight for things, but he’s three years younger than his sister. He can’t win. Sometimes I just want to slap that girl.”
“What can I do? I told Mark today that Mom and Dad will make it up to him in secret, giving him double of whatever he wants.”
“It’s just some toys and snacks, what are they worth? Let her win for now. When she’s happy, she’ll feel guilty towards her brother. Trading a few small favors for our son’s long-term benefit… it’s a brilliant deal.”
I placed the diary back in the drawer, my body shivering with a sudden, uncontrollable cold.
So that was what she really thought.
So their love for me had been nothing more than a calculated scheme.
For as long as I could remember, she and Dad had always let me win in all the small, insignificant battles.
A few bags of chips, some toys, a slightly bigger bedroom.
In exchange, my brother got the property, the insurance policies, and their genuine, heartfelt love.

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