Chapter 1I had given up

I was being brought back to the family home, and the girl who had taken my place was dying.

My parents never left her side. My brother blamed me for coming back and upsetting her. My husband was her doctor, and even in the middle of our cold, mechanical lovemaking, he would leave at the sound of her voice.

I had tolerated her, made excuses for her, given way to her every whim. But this time was different. She had pushed me down the stairs on our wedding anniversary, on purpose.

As they loaded me into the ambulance, my husband was still defending her.

"She’s just a kid, Nora. Don't be mad at her. She'll feel so guilty." He wiped a tear from my cheek. "Don't cry. I'll save you. You're going to be fine." Then his voice hardened slightly. "But after this, you need to think about your own actions. You're so healthy. You shouldn't be flaunting it in front of her, upsetting her like that."

He was my surgeon. He put in a few sloppy stitches, then rushed off to comfort the crying imposter my family had called him to see.

And in that moment, something inside me finally broke.

"I'm in so much pain," I told the System. "I don't want to play this game anymore. I want to go home."

In seven days, I would die from a massive hemorrhage caused by his shoddy surgical work. And they would have to live with the regret for the rest of their lives.

*

* * *

No one came to pick me up from the hospital.

After waiting for hours, I finally sent a message to the family group chat, letting them know I was being discharged.

A long time passed. Half a day. Finally, a notification. It was my brother, Leo.

Leo: K.

That was it. Silence.

Ten agonizing minutes later, my phone buzzed again. It was my mother.

Mom: Nora, sweetie… can you find your own way home? We're a little tied up right now.

Then, a message from *her*. From Ivy.

Ivy: Oh, Nora, don't bother them! They just got back from taking me on vacation. They're exhausted from the flight, and we have to go to the hospital for my check-up.

And then, a message from my husband, Dr. Julian Vance.

Julian: Nora, I'm Ivy's doctor. I'm responsible for her follow-up. I can't take the day off. Just grab a cab. Call me if you need anything.

I had typed out a message: *Can just one of you please come get me?*

I stared at the words on the screen, then deleted them, one by one.

I knew the truth. When it came to me versus Ivy, I would always be the second choice.

For years, Ivy had treated her own life like a game, threatening to stop her medication one day, claiming she wanted to die the next. And Julian, my brilliant, dedicated husband, would chase after her, tirelessly pulling her back from the brink. It had become their routine.

"Ivy," he would tell her, his voice a low, intense murmur. "You're not allowed to die on my watch. I don't care how much you try to self-destruct. I have a thousand ways to keep you alive."