Her Death Countdown Was Actually Mine

Everyone in the family could see the countdown above my sister Stella's head.

They all knew she would die on her sixteenth birthday.

So Stella became the most precious person in this household.

The delicious snacks were hers, the pretty dresses were hers, even the bedtime stories from Mom and Dadthose were hers too.

I felt sorry for her, but I also envied all the favoritism she received.

Until I finally made it to her sixteenth birthday.

Mom and Dad, afraid I would cause trouble, locked meburning with feverin the storage room.

I pounded on the door in fear. "Mom, let me out. I have a fever. My head hurts so much..."

Mom gritted her teeth. "Enough! Your sister only has today left before she dies. Can't you just bear with it?"

"But I feel awful..."

Gradually, the sounds outside the door disappeared, and my consciousness grew hazy...

My body suddenly felt very light.

Through the old wooden door, I could see the warm lights in the living room.

Mom and Dad sat pressed close to Stella on the sofa. Mom's hand gently patted Stella's back while Dad kept his head down, his shoulders trembling slightly.

Stella wore her only new dresspale blue with tiny embroidered stars on the hem.

Her face looked especially pale under the lamplight, her lips almost bloodless.

"Mom, Dad, is Ivy really okay?"

Stella's voice was soft, heavy with congestion. "I heard her calling out that her head hurt..."

"Don't worry about her."

Mom echoed, reaching out to tenderly touch Stella's cheek and brush the stray hair from her forehead.

"Exactly. She's not running a fevershe's just faking illness for sympathy. You only have one more day before you..."

Mom's words caught in her throat. Her eyes reddened.

"Just focus on your birthday tomorrow. Don't let her ruin your mood."

Stella pressed her lips together and said nothing more, but her brow furrowed even tighter.

I knew she always felt she owed me something.

From the time I could remember, all the family's favoritism piled onto her.

I had to watch longingly as she got even a warm bowl of egg custard, let alone new clothes or new toys.

But Stella would secretly slip me her snacks, alter the new dresses Mom and Dad gave her to fit me, and whenever Mom and Dad scolded me, she was always the first to shield me.

She would always say, "Ivy, I'm sorry. It's because of me that you suffer."

But Mom and Dad didn't see it that way. Mom sighed, looking at Stella with eyes full of pity.

"Don't always defend her. That girl has been jealous of you since she was old enough to understand. She can't stand to see you happy."

"Don't you remember your fourteenth birthday?"

Stella's fourteenth birthdaythat was the first time I truly understood the reality that Stella would die.

That day, the family bought a cream cake for the first time, with fourteen thin candles stuck in it.

Mom carefully lit the candles while Dad held up the old camera we'd had for years, wanting to capture one of Stella's few remaining birthdays.

I hid behind the door watchingwatching the candlelight reflect on Stella's face, watching her close her eyes to make a wish, watching the tears Mom and Dad struggled to hold back.

I rushed out.

I don't know what I was thinking then. Maybe it was jealousy, maybe it was my inability to accept that the sister who was always so gentle with me was going to leave.

I swept the cake to the floor. Cream smeared everywhere, candles rolled into corners and quickly went out.

"I don't want to watch you celebrate her birthday!"

I shrieked like every annoying bratty child.

I still remember the look in Mom and Dad's eyes.

When Dad's hand came down, I didn't dodge.

Once, twice, three times...

Mom cried but didn't stop him.

It was Stella who threw herself over me, using her thin body to shield me.

"Don't hit Ivy anymore, Dad, stop hitting her!"

Her voice trembled, but she held me tightly. "It's my fault, all my fault..."

That night, Stella snuck into my room and pressed half a candy she'd hidden into my hand.

She had a red mark on her wrist from where the chair had scratched her while protecting me during the day.

"Ivy, I'm sorry."

She said softly, her fingers gently touching my swollen cheek.

"I'll be gone soon, and after that... after that, no one will compete with you for things anymore."

In the living room, Mom tenderly touched Stella's face, her fingertips softly brushing the stray hair from her forehead.

"Stella, don't pay attention to her."

Mom said, exhaustion in her voice. "That child has been jealous of you since she was old enough to understand. You know that."

I froze.

Yes, I was jealous of Stella.

I was jealous that she had all the favoritism, jealous of her new dresses, jealous that when she had a fever Mom would watch over her all night, jealous that even with only one day left to live, she was still the apple of Mom and Dad's eye.

I drifted toward Stella, wanting to grab her hand, wanting to tell her I really did have a fever, that my head really hurt.

But my hand passed straight through her body, like passing through a wisp of fog.

I stopped mid-air, staring blankly at my transparent fingers.

I looked back at the tightly shut storage room door. Dim light leaked from beneath the crack.

I floated over and passed through the door panel, seeing myself curled up among the clutter.

I was already dead.

What came before Stella's countdown hit zero was actually my death.

Memories rushed in like a tide, carrying the smell of old dust.

When I was younger, maybe five or six years old, I really did hate Stella.

If there was only one piece of candy in the house, it was Stella's.

The only apple got cut in halfthe bigger piece for Stella, the smaller for me.

New clothes always went to Stella first. I wore her hand-me-downs.

Even bedtime stories were Stella's.

Mom's voice was so gentle. She would read "The Little Prince", read "Hans Christian Andersen's Fairy Tales", read those stories about stars and moons.

But she only read those stories to Stella.

I would secretly crouch by the door crack, listening to Mom say softly, "Stella, what would you like to hear today?"

"I want to hear The Little Mermaid," Stella said.

So Mom would begin reading, her voice like a stream at night, flowing slowly.

I squatted outside the door, hugging my knees, listening to those beautiful sentences, my heart feeling squeezed by something.

Why couldn't she read to me too?

The summer I turned seven, Mom roasted a chicken. Two golden, glistening drumsticks sat on top.

At dinner, Mom carefully placed both drumsticks in Stella's bowl.

"Stella, eat more. Build up your strength."

I looked at the few green vegetables in my own bowl. Tears suddenly fell.

"Why does Stella get both drumsticks!"

"I want to eat them too! I want chicken drumsticks too!"

Dad's chopsticks slammed heavily on the table.

"Ivy! How can you be so inconsiderate!"

He stood up, his face dark with anger. "Don't you know Stella's health is poor? Don't you know that Stella..."

He couldn't continue.

I didn't know.

I only knew that Stella's complexion was always very pale, that she sometimes coughed, that Mom and Dad always looked at her with that sad expression.

But I didn't know what that meant.

"Why, why does everything belong to Stella!"

I cried out, jumping down from my chair and pointing at Stella sitting across from me. "Why don't you just die! Give my things back to me!"

Stella's tears instantly fell, big drops splashing into her bowl.

She opened her mouth but couldn't make a sound.

Mom shot up and slapped me across the face.

That was the first time I'd been hit so hard.

Stella lunged forward to protect me, but Mom held her back tightly.

"Let her learn her lesson! Let her know what she can and can't say!"

The next day, I overheard Mom and Dad talking in the kitchen.

"Nine more years left." Mom's voice was crying.

"I know." Dad's voice was hoarse.

"Nine years... just nine years..."

That's when I learned that Stella really would die.

That the numbers above her head that no one else could see were her life countdown.

In the living room, Mom and Dad, eyes red, carefully sent Stella back to her room.

I watched, my heart suddenly aching.

"Should we... let Ivy out?" Dad's voice was soft.

Mom was silent for a long time.

"Let her endure it a bit longer."

Mom finally spoke, her voice so exhausted it seemed to take all her strength.

"At least... let Stella spend this birthday peacefully. Just this one day. The last day."

I saw Mom raise her hand to wipe her eyes.

"Ivy will understand."

She seemed to be convincing herself. "After Stella's gone, we'll... we'll definitely make it up to her."

Dad said nothing more, just walked to the kitchen, took a small piece of bread from the cupboard, and walked toward me.

"Ivy."

He said softly to the door. "Dad brought you some bread. Eat something, don't go hungry."

I floated in front of him and crouched down to look at him.

His eyes were very red, the wrinkles at the corners deeper than last year, white hair already showing at his temples.

He was only forty this year, but looked like he was fifty.

"Dad, I'm right here. I died. Won't you come in and look at me?"

"Ivy?" He called again.

I reached out to touch his face. My fingers passed through his body.

"Sigh." Dad sighed and stood up disappointedly. "This child... still sulking."

He pushed the bread further through the door crack.

"Just stay in there and behave. Don't make trouble. After your sister is gone... Dad will definitely make it up to you."

I didn't wait for him to discover me.

I looked at his retreating back and said softly:

"You don't need to, Dad. You don't need to make it up to me."

You'll never have the chance.

After Dad left, the hallway fell silent again.

Soft sounds came from the living room.

Mom came out of Stella's room, gently closed the door, and stood in the hallway in a daze.

She looked at the storage room door, her lips pressed tightly together, as if struggling with something.

Finally she walked over and crouched where Dad had just crouched.

"Ivy."

Her voice was soft. "Don't blame Mom, okay?"

"Mom knows you feel wronged."

She continued, her fingers unconsciously picking at splinters on the door panel. "But Stella only has one day left. Just let her have this, let her leave happy, okay?"

I floated in front of her, seeing moisture at the corners of her eyes.

She raised her hand and wiped quickly, as if afraid someone would see.

"After Stella's gone, Mom will make your favorite burgers, a whole plate, all for you."

Her voice grew smaller and smaller, finally becoming almost a murmur. "I'll buy you a new dress, the kind with bowsyou've always wanted one, haven't you? Mom will take you to the amusement park, ride the carousel, ride the roller coaster... didn't you say all your classmates have been there except you?"

Her tears finally fell, hitting the old hallway tiles and spreading into small dark spots.

"I'll give you everything, everything... so just today, just today, don't make trouble, okay?"

I reached out, wanting to wipe away her tears.

She waited for a while. The storage room remained silent.

The sadness on Mom's face slowly faded, replaced by a kind of anger.

She suddenly stood up, stumbling because the movement was too abrupt.

"This child... so inconsiderate!"

She muttered quietly, her voice thick with tears. "Doesn't think about her parents at all. Raised you all these years for nothing!"

She turned and walked away quickly, her back stiff.

As evening came, the sky gradually darkened.

Mom came out of the kitchen carrying a small basket with a red cloth inside, along with some colored paper and scissors

Birthday decorations prepared for Stella.

She'd just reached the living room when the doorbell rang.

It was Grandma.

Grandma held a cloth bag, bulging and full. Seeing Mom, she forced a smile.

"Mom, why are you here?" Mom was a bit surprised and quickly stepped aside to let Grandma in.

"I came to see Stella."

Grandma's voice was somewhat hoarse. She put the cloth bag on the table and took out several apples and some pastries. "Tomorrow is the child's birthday. I... I came to see her."

"Stella's resting in her room."

Mom said, taking the things from Grandma's hands. "Please sit. I'll call her."

"No, no need. Let her rest properly."

Grandma sat down on the sofa, her gaze sweeping around the living room, her brow furrowing slightly.

"Where's Ivy? Why don't I see Ivy?"

Mom's expression changed instantly.

"She... she's in her room doing homework." Mom avoided Grandma's gaze, lowering her head to arrange the red cloth in the basket.

Grandma said nothing, just looked at her.

"Homework?"

"I'll go check on her."

"Mom!"

Mom quickly stood up. "Ivy is... throwing a tantrum. I have her reflecting in the storage room."

Grandma's movements stopped.

"What did you say?" She asked, one word at a time. "You locked Ivy in the storage room?"

"Knowing tomorrow is Stella's..." Mom's voice grew smaller and smaller, finally almost inaudible.

Grandma's face slowly darkened.

She stood up, swaying because the movement was too sudden.

Mom tried to help her but was pushed away.

"Susan!" Grandma's voice trembled. "Ivy is your daughter too!"

Mom opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but Grandma cut her off.

"Yes, I know Stella had a hard fate, born with that cursed countdown. I know you love her, want to give her the best of everything, let her leave happy!"

Grandma's voice grew louder and louder, tears pooling in her eyes.

"But what about Ivy? Isn't Ivy suffering too? From childhood until now, what has she ever gotten? Stella's old hand-me-down clothes, Stella's leftover food, even your loveshe has to share half with her sister!"

"Mom, I didn't..." Mom tried to defend herself, but her voice was weak and unconvincing.

"Both children are good children, both are good children... but what about you two? As parents, don't you owe Ivy? Doesn't she deserve even a little love?"

Mom collapsed into a chair, covering her face, her shoulders shaking violently.

"And now you won't even let the sisters see each other one last time?"

Grandma's voice was hoarse. "Stella is going to... going to leave tomorrow. Ivy is her only sister, the sister she's protected since childhood! How can you let Stella leave? Let her leave with regrets?"

"I... I didn't..."

Mom's voice leaked through her fingers, broken and fragmented. "I just wanted Stella's last day to be happy. I didn't want Ivy to disturb her..."

Night deepened.

Stella's bedroom door remained tightly shut.

"Go to sleep." Grandma finally spoke, her voice hoarse. "Tomorrow... we still need to get up early."

Mom shifted, as if wanting to say something, but finally just shook her head.

"I can't sleep."

Dad didn't move either.

Grandma sighed and didn't press further.

She stood up, walked to the storage room door, crouched down, and said softly through the crack:

"Ivy, Grandma's here with you. Don't be afraid."

My tears fell again.

Time passed second by second. The candles burned out and the living room fell into darkness.

The sky outside the window gradually brightened, changing from deep blue to gray-blue, then to the pale color of fish bellies.

The first rays of morning light passed through the glass window, falling on the old floorboards, illuminating the floating dust in the air.

Grandma stood up, walked to Stella's bedroom door, raised her hand to knock, but stopped in mid-air.

She hesitated for a long time, finally only saying softly:

"Stella, time to get up."

Slight sounds came from inside the room.

The door opened.

"Grandma, Mom, Dad." She said softly, showing a faint smile.

Mom suddenly stood up and rushed over to embrace her, holding so tightly as if trying to meld her into flesh and bone.

Dad also walked over, his hand trembling as he gently touched Stella's head.

"Stella..." Mom's voice was completely broken.

"I'm fine, Mom."

Stella said softly, her hand gently patting Mom's back. "I'm really fine."

Grandma stood to the side, quietly watching.

She watched for a long time, then suddenly remembered something and whipped around to look at the storage room.

"Ivy!"

Her voice was especially clear in the quiet morning. "Quickly, let Ivy out!"

Only then did Mom and Dad remember me locked in the storage room. They broke into smiles through their tears, saying repeatedly:

"Yes, yes, yes, let Ivy out. Ivy's still in the storage room!"

"Her sister is fine. This is wonderful news!"

Mom pulled Stella along while Dad walked ahead. The family of three ran toward the storage room, faces full of joy.

But when they reached the storage room door and Dad's hand just pushed it open, his expression suddenly changed drastically. He jerked his hand back, murmuring:

"Wrong, it's all wrong!"