Too Late for Love: A Life Sacrificed in Coldness

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Since I was a child, I was constantly instructed to yield to my younger sister, Cecilia. The reason was that Cecilia and I were twins.

I was born healthy, white-skinned and plump. In contrast, Cecilia was rushed to the emergency room and placed in an incubator right after birth. An elderly and experienced patient in the next bed took one look at us and remarked, "This eldest daughter stole the life of her younger sister. She's heartless from birth and even tries to harm her own kin."

My mother froze for a moment, and the smile on her face vanished.

As Cecilia and I grew up and started kindergarten together, during a parents' meeting, the kindergarten teacher informed my mother, "Mary has a good appetite, but Cecilia is very frail. She can only manage two or three bites of food at a time."

Upon hearing this, my mother knocked over my lunch. "How dare you eat so much? Can't you see your sister is not well? Are you deliberately eating more to upset her?"

I held the spoon in my hand, staring at my mother's enraged face, completely at a loss.

It was pouring heavily outside the kindergarten. My mother picked up Cecilia, draped her coat over Cecilia's head, and walked briskly away. I stumbled after them, timidly calling out, "Mom, it's raining hard. Can you walk a little slower?"

The moment I said those words, I knew I had made a mistake. My mother's eyes turned colder than I had ever seen. "You're aware of how heavy the rain is? Your sister is so delicate that getting rained on could be life-threatening for her. Mary, do you want to harm your sister?"

I wanted to deny it, but she had already rushed into the rain.

That night, I overheard her in the kitchen, speaking in a low voice and shaking her head as she talked to my father, "When she was born, I didn't believe what others said. But now I feel she's cold-hearted, selfish, like a vampire."

At the age of four, I had no comprehension of what "cold-hearted", "selfish", and "vampire" meant. However, these three words would haunt me all the way to the operating table.

Suddenly, the shrill ringtone of the cell phone pierced the air again. I rolled my eyes and, with great difficulty, pressed the answer button. The doctor held the phone close to my ear.

It was my mother over the phone. "Mary, where are you? Your sister is still waiting for you to save her life. Do you have any idea how much your sister is suffering from dialysis?" Her voice was a mix of urgency and anger.

I could hear my father beside her. She seemed to be venting her anger to him, "We've raised her for so many years. What's wrong with her helping her sister out?"

My father's voice followed. "We know her character."

My mother continued, seething, "It's just a kidney. Why is she hiding? She won't come home and she doesn't answer the phone. It's as if we're forcing her. If she and Cecilia weren't a perfect match for a kidney transplant, would I have to plead with her like this? Ultimately, it's all my fault. Why did I give birth to her in the first place?"

I thought, "Yes, it was just a kidney. There were numerous people who donated kidneys. Why couldn't I?"

My brother sneered and likely snatched the phone. "I know why. Mary, are you still bitter about getting lost that year?"

Indeed, when I was five years old, I went missing for four long months. It all happened on Cecilia's birthday. Our family had gone to the amusement park to celebrate.

Cecilia was dressed in a charming pink-and-blue princess dress, cradled in my father's arms. My mother held an elegant parasol over her head and clasped my brother's hand with her other hand. I trailed behind them at a distance, watching as Cecilia, brimming with energy, pointed at the white birds and rabbits with her tiny hand, eliciting soft laughter from our parents.

My younger brother even ran over and picked a bunch of bright sunflowers for her. Their faces were suffused with warm, genuine happiness.

I struggled to keep up with them, but the gap between us gradually widened. Suddenly, a large throng of people surged forward. Finally, at a corner ice-cream shop, they disappeared from my sight, and I was left alone.

It's not uncommon for children to get lost in amusement parks. The park manager assured me, "Don't be scared. Your parents will come looking for you. We've already made an announcement."

I nodded bravely and said, "I'm not afraid. They're just busy celebrating my sister's birthday, so they'll be a bit late to pick me up." After a pause, I added, "It's my birthday, too."

The administrator looked taken aback for a moment, then gently stuffed a candy into my hand.

I carefully peeled off the candy wrapper and sat there, waiting patiently from morning until dusk. As the day wore on, all the amusement park equipment fell silent, and the lights were gradually turned off. Finally, a glimmer of pity emerged in the administrator's eyes.

I was then sent to the Public Security Bureau. Seven days later, I was transferred to the neighboring welfare home.

Four months later, my father showed up at the orphanage door. The moment he saw me, he slapped me hard and snapped, "We told you not to run around! Do you know how hard we've been looking for you?"

My mother stood there, looking at me with a sullen expression. It seemed as if she had something to say but held back. She rarely scolded me, though. She furrowed and stopped my father, sounding a bit impatient, "Okay, okay. The important thing is we've found her. Aren't you embarrassed? Why are you causing a scene out here?"

She then glanced at her watch and said, "I only took half a day off. You take her back. I still have to go to work."

When I got home, I discovered that all my belongings had been moved to the utility room. Our house had only two bedrooms: one for my parents and the other, which was originally shared by Cecilia and me.

The room Cecilia and I used to share had undergone a complete transformation. The bunk beds were gone, replaced by a lovely bunny-themed princess bed. The walls had been repainted in a soft pink and white.

My father said coldly, "Cecilia was hospitalized three months ago. The hospital said she needed a clean and quiet space. You often help your mother in the vegetable fields, so don't bring any dirt into Cecilia's room."

So, Cecilia had been sick. That's why I was left out there for so long. I nervously pinched my fingers and said timidly, "Dad, can I..."

My father interrupted me irritably and scolded, "Can't you understand what I'm saying? Don't even think about moving back. Your sister needs peace and quiet. Can't you be more understanding?" He walked away, and I could faintly hear him mutter, "I shouldn't have brought her back. She's nothing but trouble."

I was too terrified to say another word. In truth, I just wanted to ask if I could use the leftover wall paint to spruce up the walls of my utility room, which were so brittle that they would crumble into dust at the slightest touch.

But who was I to make such requests? They couldn't even spare a little time to search for me properly. Just like now, they knew exactly which city I was in, yet no one was willing to come.

The attending physician entered the room. "Ms. Hart, we need to confirm with you one last time. Are you certain you want to donate your organ tomorrow? Is this truly your own initiative and willingness, without any coercion or threats from anyone?"

I blinked and nodded in affirmation.

"Should we notify your family to come?"

I shook my head firmly.

Sympathy flickered in the doctor's eyes.

At night, the nurse came to change my intravenous drip and informed me about the precautions for tomorrow's operation. Just then, my cell phone rang again.

The nurse looked a bit annoyed but still asked me, "Do you want to answer it?"

I strained to check the caller ID. It was Vance.

Vance had once been my boyfriend. But now, he belonged to Cecilia.

Vance's deep voice reverberated through the phone, "Mary, Cecilia's condition is critical. She can't hold on much longer."

"I'm aware that you might resent me. But I was the one who made the first move on Cecilia. She's innocent in all this. If you're angry, direct it at me, but please, don't take it out on her." He paused briefly, then added, "Do you still have feelings for me?"

Lying on the hospital bed, I fixed my gaze on the stark white ceiling. My silence, it seemed, only served to confirm his suspicions. Vance's breathing grew ragged, and he took a deep, shuddering breath. "Mary, you were the one who ended things between us. And I even asked if it was okay for me to be with Cecilia. You nodded in consent at that time. Now you're having second thoughts. What exactly are you trying to do?! I've known you for ten years. Given our long-standing relation, can't you just let us be this time? I'm begging you."

At his words, my eyes finally blinked. Ten years. It was hard to believe that so much time had slipped by.

Indeed, we were deskmates in junior high school. Just like in every typical young-adult campus tale, the teacher paired the academically-challenged student who had no interest in studying with a top-performing female classmate, hoping for a positive influence.

Of course, it wasn't easy to change a struggling student. He pulled my braids, ripped up my papers, and even stuck chewed-up gum in my notebooks. But my indifference must have piqued his interest. He began to pursue me, and his pursuit lasted from junior high school all the way through to college.

His astonishing college entrance exam results left his parents in awe. They bought gifts and visited my home to express their gratitude. They even treated me and my family to a meal.

But then, I couldn't quite recall how our relationship fell apart. Our universities were in different locations. At first, he called my dormitory every day and bought train tickets to visit me every weekend. I didn't have much money, so I'd buy a standing-room-only ticket and squeeze in with a crowd of migrant workers. As the train carriage swayed, my hands and feet would go numb from standing for so long.

Gradually, his calls became less frequent, dropping to once a week. And then, he stopped showing up altogether. When I tried to call him, he replied coldly, "Mary, I'm at a top-tier university. I'm swamped with my studies. You need to learn to be independent and stop relying on me to be by your side all the time."

Then, one day, I returned home unannounced. I saw Vance, my parents, Cecilia, and my brother sitting together, having dinner. None of them noticed me standing in the yard, dragging my suitcase.

My parents served Vance some food, and he, in turn, passed it to Cecilia. Then, he gently stroked Cecilia's hair. Cecilia blushed and smiled shyly. My brother quickly joined in the light-hearted chatter, and the whole family was engaged in friendly banter.

After Vance finished eating, my brother pulled him to a corner of the yard. "You've noticed, haven't you? Cecilia is so much better than Mary. You're right. Cecilia is cute, innocent, and delicate. She's the complete opposite of Mary, who can be so difficult."

"If you want to be with Cecilia, we won't object."

Vance nodded, seemingly hesitant.

After I got back to school, I broke up with Vance. He was silent for a moment and then asked, "Can I pursue Cecilia? I really want to, and I hope you can understand."

I clenched my phone tightly and said, "I don't understand." I truly couldn't fathom it. How could someone's feelings change so rapidly? Was it because I wasn't good enough?

Rumors were truly terrifying. One simple statement could shatter a seven-year relationship. I became willful and obstinate. I repeated, "I can't understand. Vance, don't go after her."

In response, Vance erupted in anger. "Mary, you were the one who dumped me! And now you're trying to stop me from moving on? You're just as selfish as your family said. She's your sister, for God's sake. I must have been blind to have ever been with you!"

I stared blankly out of the dormitory window, my face expressionless. But I knew that the boy with a backpack, who used to smile up at me from beneath the window, was gone forever. So, I finally said, "Go ahead."

Perhaps I truly wasn't good enough. Maybe it was because I had been stubborn and willful just once.

Vance got into a top-tier university, and I was determined that I could too. During the SAT period, the school's homeroom teacher made one-on-one home visits.

My homeroom teacher came to my house, wearing a warm smile. "Mary is an extremely obedient student. I've selected several suitable schools. Mr. and Mrs. Hart, you can offer your child some advice."

My father showed no interest in what the teacher had to say. My mother took the piece of paper from the teacher. The moment she laid eyes on it, her expression soured.

The homeroom teacher, looking a bit puzzled, left the house hesitantly.

I went to the fields obediently to pick vegetables, fed the chickens, and then wiped my hands clean. My mother was busy at the stove, cooking chicken soup for Cecilia. The chicken soup was simmered with precious medicinal herbs.

I squatted down to fan the fire and said tentatively, "Mom, what major should I choose?" I pinched the corner of my clothes nervously and added, "I'm interested in Novara University. Professor Gibbs said that if I perform as usual, I might have a chance..."

Suddenly, there was a loud "clang". It was the sound of the iron pot lid hitting the ground hard. My mother had already turned around and was staring at me, her voice icy. "Where else are you interested in? Do you want to fly to the sky? Has this family mistreated you, or do you just not care about it? Are you that eager to run away?"

I raised my head, my hands shaking. For the first time, I defended myself. "Mom, I didn't want to run away. Everyone takes the examination. I'm just like everyone else."

My mother cut me off mercilessly. "Why can't you choose a school closer to home? Who's going to feed the pigs at home? Who's going to pick up the eggs laid by the chickens and ducks? Who's going to go up the mountain to gather grass for the pigs? Are you relying on your brother, who's in the third year of junior high school? He's at a crucial stage. Do you want him to end up with just a junior high school diploma? Or are you counting on your sister, who's still on leave and lying at home?"

My mother glared at me, squatting on the ground, and said through gritted teeth.

Tears welled up in my eyes, and I couldn't help but shout, "Other parents hope their children will succeed. Why do you wish I won't do well in the exam?"

I heard my mother say without even looking up, "I don't think you'll do poorly. No matter what score you get, you have to stay in town."

My father walked in, frowned, and said impatiently, "Why are you talking about all this useless stuff? Anyway, it was decided a long time ago. Why are you always bringing it up? Do you still want to eat?"

I closed my eyes. It was midsummer, but my heart felt a chill.

I had known since I was young that my family didn't favor me. As I grew older, I also learned from relatives about the incident that happened when Cecilia and I were born.

I worked hard at doing the housework and never made any extra demands. I ate the food Cecilia didn't like, wore the clothes she didn't want, used notebooks by writing on both sides and erasing the drafts to continue. I thought I had done everything I could to make up for whatever I was supposed to.

However, in their eyes, all of this was still not enough. But I was also a person with my own dreams and hopes.

I still secretly filled out the application for Novara University. But after the SAT, I received a notification letter from a vocational high school in the same city.

The homeroom teacher looked at me with regret and was hesitant to speak. "In fact, our school did a lot of ideological work with your parents. But in the end, your mother insisted on changing your application. They came to the school and made a huge scene. Finally, the school leaders, afraid of trouble, agreed not to visit your home again. I was worried that it would affect your examination performance, so I didn't dare to tell you."

I nodded calmly and bowed deeply to my homeroom teacher. "Thank you."

I lingered at school for a long time and didn't go home until it was dark. My family was huddled in the living room, watching TV. My father was picking his teeth with his bare chest, and my mother was fanning my younger brother with a palm-leaf fan. The kitchen was empty.

I asked softly, "Mom, why is this?" She didn't take her eyes off the TV for even a second. "Why?" Then she noticed the notice in my hand and said, "Oh," before replying, "The notice? I told you about it a long time ago."

Maybe she saw the tears in my eyes. Finally, she added coldly, "Just consider this your fate. You have to pay back what you owe Cecilia."